Part 15 (2/2)

Oh, no.

He was walking towards her.

”Good evening,” the man said as he approached. He had a French-Canadian accent. She noted his rough skin, and the smell of cheap cologne. His eyes were friendly as they regarded her, but she returned his salutation with polite reserve. She didn't want to be bothered if she could avoid it.

”Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

Makedde delivered a smile. ”Yes, I am, thank you.” She offered a polite and dismissive smile, and pretended to be absorbed in her paper.

She felt his eyes on her for what seemed like far too long, and then he said, ”Well, good evening.”

”Yup. You too. Bye.” She didn't look up for fear that it might encourage him.

When he was a safe distance away, she glanced around the lobby. Still empty. Well, if Andy wasn't answering his phone, where was he? She felt stupid sitting there-really, really stupid. Suddenly she couldn't wait to get out. Makedde stood and crossed the room, and just as she turned to pa.s.s the reception desk and make her way out, she spotted a familiar face.

Oh dear.

”Dr Harris. h.e.l.lo...”

This looks bad.

”Makedde,” he said. He seemed suitably surprised to see her in the hotel lobby. ”Well. Good evening.”

Dr Harris was smartly dressed in a pressed s.h.i.+rt and slacks. She took in his appearance more thoroughly on this occasion than she had when they first met, distracted as she was by Andy and then Roy. Bob Harris was in his fifties and appeared to take pretty good care of himself, but his face told a thousand tales. He had a ma.s.s of crow's-feet, and two deep worry lines between his hazel eyes. His eyelids were hooded and drooped. Makedde thought that he had a kind face, but a weary one.

She smiled at him, hoping she didn't look too red-faced.

”Are you looking for Andy?” Dr Harris asked her.

”Andy? Yeah. Kind of...”

”I just left him at the Sports Bar around the corner.” He paused, and seemed to take a quick mental snapshot of her face, her body language, her words. Perhaps the intense scrutiny was only in her imagination. ”Is he expecting you?” he asked. ”Because I can't imagine him standing you up to hang out at a bar.”

”No, no. It was a surprise visit actually. I was just in the area and I thought I'd drop by...”

Oh, what an absolutely moronic thing to say, Mak.

But at least she knew where Andy was. He was less than a block away, slugging back beers with his mates. What mates? She wondered who else he might know in Vancouver.

”Would you like me to go and get him for you?” Dr Harris offered.

”Oh no. No, that's okay. Thanks anyway. I might swing by, but I really ought to be getting home soon. It's late.”

He nodded. He looked like he needed a good night's sleep as much as she did.

”I enjoyed your presentation, by the way. It was fascinating.”

”Thank you.”

”Have a good evening,” she said, finis.h.i.+ng with a polite smile. She walked away, leaving the newspaper on a chair as she pa.s.sed.

Makedde had seen the Sports Bar when she drove past-the neon beer signs and mirrors bearing nostalgic Coca-Cola advertis.e.m.e.nts through the large panes of gla.s.s. It was the kind of distinctly North American establishment where you were asked if you wanted curly fries or coleslaw with your slab of steak. There were several enormous television screens broadcasting a football game, and the place was full of boisterous men, high on sports and alcohol.

She couldn't see Andy, but went inside anyway and took a seat in a quiet corner.

A waitress came over. ”What can I getcha?”

”Just mineral water, thanks.”

The waitress frowned, then followed it up with an artificial service-smile when she remembered her occupational requirements.

Don't be so uptight, Makedde. You're here to sneak up on an ex-lover, after all... ”Actually, uh, make it a Slippery Nipple.”

The waitress smiled. ”Now you're talking.”

Okay, the plan: Slug back drink. Feel relaxed. Find Andy. Talk. Go home. Sleep.

Fine.

She tried watching the television, but she still couldn't calm the churning in her guts. She needed that drink.

She tried to put herself in Andy's shoes. He did call her, right? So what was she nervous about? Perhaps her arriving unannounced was a bit strange but that only mattered if she actually decided to make contact. She could still walk away.

By the time she'd finished her second Slippery Nipple, Mak had well and truly graduated from the initial, mellow bliss, and sunk deep into a tipsy melancholy.

Where is he anyway? The men's room?

The waitress drifted past and suggested a Screaming o.r.g.a.s.m.

”Love those,” Mak blurted. When she realised her faux pas, she giggled and covered her mouth, then it occurred to her that she might look silly in that position, and she promptly placed her hands in her lap. She nodded and smiled and the waitress disappeared.

Oh, my G.o.d, I've lost it.

Mak stared at the TV screen closest to her. Big men in small pants. Everyone grunting and slapping each other's b.u.t.ts. Curious men's business.

The waitress returned and placed two small gla.s.ses on the table.

Two?

Mak didn't really know what she was looking at. It must have showed, because the waitress began instructing her on how to drink the c.o.c.ktail with the wildly pleasurable name. ”Take the lime cordial into your mouth but don't swallow it. Pour the Baileys in next. Let it sit in there, then shake your head vigorously from side to side. Then swallow.”

She must be having me on.

Mak tried to pay her.

”This one's on the house. Enjoy.”

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