Page 174 of Lethal Torture
Luke’s explosion of laughter almost makes him lose his mouthful of beer. “Let me guess,” he says as he recovers, wiping his eyes, “they think it’s something to do with a superhero, right?”
I bite my lip, shaking my head warningly at him.
“So not a superhero reference, then.” Tommo lowers himself down beside his wife and draws her legs across his lap. Tall and burly, with a staunch belly and perpetual smile, Tommo is themost genial, easygoing person I think I’ve ever met. It’s easy to see why he and Luke are as close as brothers. They seem to always be working on some DIY project with a beer in hand, music playing, and almost no conversation. He grins at me from beneath a battered old peak cap bearing some kind of fishing logo. “Now youhaveto spill the beans. What is it?”
I shoot Luke a wary glance, and he puts his arm around me, pulling me in close in a way that makes every muscle in my body go limp. “The Green Whisper,” he explains, grinning, “is described as a cocktail for ‘seduction and surrender.’ The legend—for customers, at least—is that the Green Whisper was first poured ‘in the mirrored boudoir of a courtesan who could make kings confess their sins and was served only to those who dared to dream—and to sin beautifully.’” He raises his beer to Tommo.
“Yeah, right,” he says, looking unimpressed.
“Oh,” says Liana dreamily. “How divine.”
Tommo cocks an eyebrow at Luke. “And the truth?”
Luke nudges me. “Tell them.”
I give Liana an apologetic shrug. “The truth is that we ran out of alcohol after our first Winter Ball and found ourselves on Christmas Day with no suppliers and a bar that was virtually empty except for random ingredients like vintage green absinthe, vanilla liqueur, and a fridge full of truly terrible prosecco we’d been meaning to return. Charlie and Rocco got to work—et voilà,the now-legendary Green Whisper, which was the only drink we served until Anatoly managed to bribe a local supplier away from his Christmas dinner to restock the bar.”
“By which time,” Luke adds, grinning, “everyone was so high that they thought the Christmas fairy was floating around. Not to mention the orgy going on in the back rooms of the Quartier—”
“Shh!” I jab him in the ribs as Tommo and Liana explode into laughter, casting a warning look toward the galley, where the boys are still occupied. “I saidvintageabsinthe,” I explainto Liana and Tommo. “I found cases of the stuff hidden beneath the Quartier when we renovated the theater. The original Green Fairy, as it was known, contained a powerful hallucinogen called thujone. Unfortunately,” I say as they start laughing again, “none of us actually knew about thujone on the night we mixed the first Green Whisper. But as you can probably imagine, chaos ensued. And a legend was born.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Liana wipes her eyes. “Honestly, it all soundssofabulous. I can’t wait to visit.”
“You’ll love Pigalle Mayfair,” I say, smiling at her. “It’s an absolute haven for women.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it.” She gives me a wicked smile. “But it’s the Quartier I want to see.”
“Oh!” Rather taken aback, I glance at Luke. “I’m not sure—”
“Not a fucking chance.” Raising his beer, Tommo gives me a huge grin. “VIP booth, champagne on ice, and the full burlesque experience. Oh,” he adds, pointing his beer at Luke, “and one of those back rooms as well, thanks very much. We’re going the full bloody monty.”
Luke grimaces. “That’s mysisteryou’re talking about, you reprobate.”
“So take the night off.” Tommo spreads out over the boat, his arm lying behind his wife’s shoulders, other hand possessively on her leg. “Haven’t seen that Irish prick Paddy in a while. He can look after us.”
“Oh, Christ.” Luke shakes his head. “I think I might leave the country.”
The boys choose that moment to emerge, Ollie balancing two margarita glasses on a round tray. “Becareful,” Max hisses from behind him.
“Auntie Zin.” Ollie carefully presents me with the tray. “Did we get it right this time?”
“Hmm.” Picking up my margarita glass, I inspect it, warily noting the faint greenish tinge. “Let’s see.” I touch a finger to the salt mix on the rim. “I’m tasting sea salt, cayenne, paprika, and—” Pausing, I frown, looking up at the boys. “What’s that you’ve added?”
“Chili lime seasoning,” Ollie says proudly. “I found it in Dad’s fish spice cabinet. You said that if we want to create a signature cocktail, we need to get inventive.”
“Wow!” I give them an admiring glance. “Definite points for creativity, boys. Now for the taste test. Liana?”
Clinking glasses, we both take a sip.
And then we both almost choke.
“Is that”—Liana stares at her glass in horror—“greencordial?”
“Yes!” The boys high-five each other. “We made a cross between the Green Whisper and a spicy marg,” Ollie announces proudly. “We’re gonna call it Spicy Whisper. What?” he says, frowning as all four of us spit out our drinks at the same time. “I don’t get it.”
“Nope.” Tommo stands up, still laughing. “And you bloody won’t, either, for at least the next decade, hopefully. Right, you terrors. Enough cocktails for today. Let’s go throw a line in and teach Uncle Luke how to actually catch a fish.” Pulling the boys up with him, he leads them down to the cockpit, Luke following behind, all four of them bantering happily as they take up seats and start casting lines.
Liana stretches out on the cushions laid across the prow, looking unhappily at her glass. “This doesn’t solve our lack of alcohol problem,” she grumbles.
