“Won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” I step into the elevator. “If you’re not cleared out by the time Burgess gets back down here, you can forget about working in this town again. A toilet cleaning job will be out of reach by the time I’m finished with you.”
Spence takes a moment to catch his bearings because his world is spinning rapidly.
“Do you hear me, Spence?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come on, Burge.”
Burge gets in the elevator, and we quietly ride to the top floor. There’s a ding when we arrive, then the door opens. Burge’s eyes bulge. The woman is posing naked on the couch. She’s put together nicely.
I don’t recall her name, and that’s probably because I didn’t pay any attention when she gave it to me.
She quickly covers herself when she notices Burge.
I don’t hesitate. “Put your clothes on, please. Time to leave.”
“Well, I thought . . .”
Oh my God! Here we go again with the “I thought.”
“Just leave,” I tell her, and say to Burge, “Take care of this for me, would you?”
“Yes, sir.”
I walk over to the custom bar and pour a glass of thirty-year-old Laphroaig single malt Scotch. Not the most expensive brand in my cabinet, but it’s the one I prefer when I’m cranky. And at the moment, I am cranky.
With a drink in my hand, I ease over to the window and stare out over the New York skyline. Burge and the woman are yakking back and forth behind me.
I’ve nearly finished my drink when the woman rips into Burge.
“You’re a fucking dick prick!”
Huh?
I assume she’s talking to me until Burge replies, “Thank you, ma’am. Now get in the goddam elevator… And quit fucking biting me!”
I snicker. That’s the first time I’ve heard him curse.
The elevator door closes. I swallow the last of my scotch, look at the glass. For a man who has everything, why doesn’t it feel that way?
I’ll have to delve into that, won’t I?