Chapter 132 - The Slippery Slope (1/2)
Even in his whisky-addled vision, Miguel sees an ”angel.” He could see more or less clearly what a vision of beauty Claire is, with that sėxy little black dress, wearing what his other friends would describe as fück me pumps. The trouble is, he doesn't have a solid control of his own body; he's trapped in the back corner of his brain, watching this all unfold, like a backseat driver. Excitedly, he greets her with the most gracious greeting he could muster, but somehow he has a sense that that went down rather poorly, he's just not sure how. He couldn't read the emotion on Claire's face, but who could blame her? He tried to grab her in the dark, for pete's sakes! So whatever Claire's expression is, he will ignore it; he'll understand. ”Please, sit here, and thank you,” Miguel says.
Claire glances at the men who came with her. Mike nods, as if saying, ”It's alright. We're managing this.” Then he turns around, touching his earpiece, speaking to someone. She sighs; there are people here, and Miguel seems fine, only drunk. But she highly doubts if a real conversation is capable of happening, given the situation.
Gingerly, she takes the seat proffered to her, while Miguel seems all smiles. He takes the seat opposite hers and puts his hands on the table, as though waiting for something. He fidgets; he couldn't even look straight at her. Like he's looking at someone behind her. ”How are you?” he says after a while.
”I'm good. And you?”
”I'm superfine.” Miguel laughs. ”You know, with all things considered.”
”So what is this about?”
He scratches his chin. ”Remember our talk earlier? You said you wanted to speak to me.”
”But you hung up on me before we could agree on a time and place.”
”That's the thing, Claire. I don't want you to set up the time and place. I want to set it on my own terms.”
Claire tries hard not to scoff at him. ”And your terms include barging in here at this hour?”
”Oh, I didn't 'barge' in here,” Miguel makes an exaggerated shrug. ”I came with an escort. An escort. See that guy over there? Big muscular arms, twice my size, but I'm pretty sure very, very little dɨċk.” He laughs at his own joke for a long awkward moment, then he settles with a giggle. ”It appears my brother has sent his army here. All for you, Claire. All for you. Is he that afraid of me?”
She shakes her head. ”He's not afraid of you, Miguel. He's afraid FOR you. He's afraid of the damage you can do to yourself.”
”Oh, really?” Miguel's laughter is hard, desperate, drunken. ”Did he say that? Or did you just make that up?”
”It is the truth,” she says, and wonders why Gabriel has not appeared yet. What's the game here? Is she meant to shake Miguel up, compel him to say what he really wants to say? But Miguel's intention is plain as day; what this man needs is to be straightened out. ”But let's get down to business, Miguel. Are you capable of that?”
”Sure,” he says, but he's still giggling.