"Thank you, Mr. Lasker," he said, equally courteous. End of interview.
I looked at Charley. He looked at me. Then he handed me his bottle. Trust Charley. "Have a slug, pal," he said cheerfully. "Stop working."
"I will, pal," I said. "Thanks."
It felt good going down and for the first time I realized I had a hangover from the night before. And the night before that. And then I saw that Deborah's green eyes were wide open and fixed on me.
I took another slug, over and above Charley's little pained exclamation. I didn't like the look in those green eyes.
"Hey, Steve," Debby called in that indecent voice of hers. "I want to talk to you."
"You see, my friend," I said to the owner of the bottle, "she wants to talk to me."
"That makes you lucky," Charley said. He was very carefully putting the top back on the bottle.
"So, talk," I said to her.