Part 12 (2/2)

I dropped my papers -- I wanted to throw them, but I dropped them, _flump_, and I turned on my heel and walked out, not bothering to close the door behind me.

Dan showed up at the hotel ten minutes after I did and rapped on my door. I was all-over numb as I opened the door. He had a bottle of tequila -- _my_ tequila, brought over from the house that I'd shared with Lil.

He sat down on the bed and stared at the logo-marked wallpaper. I took the bottle from him, got a couple gla.s.ses from the bathroom and poured.

”It's my fault,” he said.

”I'm sure it is,” I said.

”We got to drinking a couple nights ago. She was really upset. Hadn't seen you in days, and when she _did_ see you, you freaked her out.

Snapping at her. Arguing. Insulting her.”

”So you made her,” I said.

He shook his head, then nodded, took a drink. ”I did. It's been a long time since I. . .”

”You had s.e.x with my girlfriend, in my house, while I was away, working.”

”Jules, I'm sorry. I did it, and I kept on doing it. I'm not much of a friend to either of you.

”She's pretty broken up. She wanted me to come out here and tell you it was all a mistake, that you were just being paranoid.”

We sat in silence for a long time. I refilled his gla.s.s, then my own.

”I couldn't do that,” he said. ”I'm worried about you. You haven't been right, not for months. I don't know what it is, but you should get to a doctor.”

”I don't need a doctor,” I snapped. The liquor had melted the numbness and left burning anger and bile, my constant companions. ”I need a friend who doesn't f.u.c.k my girlfriend when my back is turned.”

I threw my gla.s.s at the wall. It bounced off, leaving tequila-stains on the wallpaper, and rolled under the bed. Dan started, but stayed seated.

If he'd stood up, I would've hit him. Dan's good at crises.

”If it's any consolation, I expect to be dead pretty soon,” he said. He gave me a wry grin. ”My Whuffie's doing good. This rehab should take it up over the top. I'll be ready to go.”

That stopped me. I'd somehow managed to forget that Dan, my good friend Dan, was going to kill himself.

”You're going to do it,” I said, sitting down next to him. It hurt to think about it. I really liked the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He might've been my best friend.

There was a knock at the door. I opened it without checking the peephole. It was Lil.

She looked younger than ever. Young and small and miserable. A snide remark died in my throat. I wanted to hold her.

She brushed past me and went to Dan, who squirmed out of her embrace.

”No,” he said, and stood up and sat on the windowsill, staring down at the Seven Seas Lagoon.

”Dan's just been explaining to me that he plans on being dead in a couple months,” I said. ”Puts a damper on the long-term plans, doesn't it, Lil?”

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