“Got a dealer who can deliver this hour of the night?”
“I’ll say I have.”
“All right,” I said, “call him. Tell him to send up half a case of Scotch.”
“Listen, you aren’t kidding me?”
I shook my head, opened my wallet, pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, and casually tossed it over to the table. “That’s what my boss would call squandering money.”
She ordered the Scotch, hung up the phone, and said, “May as well drink up mine while we’re waiting for that to come.”
She poured out stiff drinks. There was soda in the icebox. She said, “Don’t let me get drunk, John.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll get on a crying jag. It’s been a long time since anyone gave me a fair break... What makes me sore is that you didn’t give it to me because I’m me, but because you’re you. You’re just made goofy. There’s something about you that can’t— Kiss me.”
I kissed her.