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She broke off, biting her lip slightly.
"Go on," I said.
"Well ... Simply put, I think you're developing a drinking problem."
That one caught me off guard. I had been half expecting her to make some comment about how little I was helping on the kingdom's finances, or even the parade of women I seemed to be suddenly confronted with. It had never occurred to me that she might be taking affront at my personal habits.
"I ...I don't know what to say, Bu
"A little?"
She came off the windowsill in one easy motion and came to perch on the edge of my bed.
"Skeeve, every time I see you lately you've got a goblet of wine in your hand. It's gotten so that your idea of saying 'Hello' to someone is to offer them a drink."
I was really confused now. When she first mentioned my drinking, my immediate reaction was that she was being an alarmist. The more she talked, however, the more I found myself wondering if she might have a point.
"That's just being hospitable," I said, stalling for time to think.
"Not when you're making the offer first thing in the morning," she snapped. "Definitely not when you go ahead and have a drink yourself, whether they join you or not."
"Aahz drinks," I countered, starting to feel defensive. "He says the water on most dimensions isn't to be trusted."
"This is your home dimension, Skeeve. You should be used to the water here. Besides, Aahz is a Pervect. His whole metabolism is different from yours. He can handle drinking."
"And I can't. Is that what you're trying to say?"
The misery I had been feeling since I awoke was now taking the form of anger and a
"Check me on this," she said. "From what I've heard, during your recent trip to Perv, you got into a fight didn't you? After you'd been drinking?"
"Well ... Yes. But I've been in fights before."
"From what I hear, if Kalvin, the Dji
She had a point there. The situation had been a bit hairy. I had to admit that my odds of surviving the brawl would have gone way down if I hadn't been jerked back to sobriety by Kalvin's spell.
I nodded my agreement.
"Then there's last night," she continued. "You really wanted to make a good impression on someone. You dressed up in one of your spiffiest outfits, probably dropped a fair hunk of change, and then what? From the sounds of it, you got carried away with the drinking until you can't even remember what happened. You don't even know what went on, much less whether or not your date had a good time. That doesn't sound like you ... at least, the you that you'd like people to remember."
I was starting to feel really low, and not just from the aftereffects of the night before. I had always thought my drinking was a harmless diversion ... or, more lately, a way to ease the pressures of the problems confronting me. It had never occurred to me how it might look to others. Now that I was thinking about it, the picture wasn't very pleasant.
Unfortunately, I was still a little reluctant to admit that to Bu
"One of the things I do remember about last night is that people kept buying me drinks," I said defensively. "It kind of caught me by surprise, and I thought it would be rude to refuse."
"Even if you have to accept drinks to be social, there's nothing that says what you drink has to be alcoholic," Bu
Suddenly, I was very tired. Between my hangover and the new thoughts that had been thrust upon me, what little energy I had when I awoke was now depleted.
"Bu
To her credit, Bu
"I'm sorry, Skeeve," she said, laying a hand on my arm. "I didn't mean to jump you like that while you were still drying out. Is there anything I can get you? A cold washrag, maybe?"
Actually, that sounded like a wonderful idea.
"If you would, please. I'd really appreciate it."
She hopped off the bed and made for the washstand while I tried to find a more comfortable position.
After rearranging the pillows, I glanced over to see what was keeping her, only to find her standing stock still, staring at the wall.
"Bu
"I guess I was wrong," she said in a strange tone, still staring at the wall.
"How's that?"
"When I said you probably left a bad impression on your date ... I think I should have kept my mouth shut."
"What makes you say that?"
"I take it you haven't seen this."
She gestured at the wall over the washstand. I squinted slightly and focused my still-bleary eyes on the spot she was indicating.
Written on the wall, in bright red lipstick, was a note.
Skeeve,
Sorry to go, but I didn't want to wake you. Last night was magic. You're as good as your rep. Let me know when you want to play some more.
Cassandra
I found myself smirking as I read the note.
"Well, I guess she wasn't too upset with my drinking. Eh, Bu
There was no answer.
"Bu
I tore my eyes away from the message and glanced around the room. The tray was still there, but Bu
Suddenly, I didn't feel so smug anymore.
Chapter Eleven:
"If labor and management communicated better, there would be fewer terminations."
J. HOFFA
"Hi, BUTTERCUP, How's it going, fellah?"
The war unicorn raised his head and stared at me for a moment, then went back to eating from his feed bin.
"Com'on, fellah. You know me," I urged.
The unicorn continued eating, ignoring me completely.
"Don't worry, Boss" came a squeaky voice from behind me. "Unicorns are like that."
I didn't have to look to see who the voice belonged to, but turned to face my bodyguard anyway.
"Hi, Nunzio," I said. "What was that about unicorns?"
"They're temperamental," he explained with a shrug. "War unicorns like Buttercup are no exception. He's just giving you a rough time because you haven't been visiting him much."
One of the assorted things I had learned about Nunzio's past was that at one time he had been an animal trainer, so I tended to believe him. I was a little disappointed, however. I had been hoping that Buttercup's reaction to me would provide a confirmation as to what did or didn't happen between Cassandra and me the night before, but it seemed there were other, more rational, possible reasons for his standoffishness.
Of course, fast on the heels of my disappointment came a surge of guilt. I had been neglecting my pets badly ... along with a lot of other things.
"That reminds me, Nunzio," I said, eager to shift the guilt, "how are you doing with Gleep?"
My bodyguard frowned and wiped a massive hand across his mouth and chin in thought.
"I du
Strangely enough, that made sense. In fact, Nunzio had managed to put into words my own nebulous concerns about my pet ... he didn't feel right.
"Maybe we're going about this wrong," I said. "Maybe instead of trying to pin down what's wrong with him now, we should try to backtrack a bit."