Four Blondes

“Winnie,” the clerk says. He puts down the phone. “You can go up. It’s Suite A. Top floor.”

“Thank you,” Winnie says.

She takes the elevator. Gets out in a narrow, gray-carpeted hallway. She presses the buzzer for Suite A.

“Just a minute . . . coming,” Tanner says. “Coming . . . uh . . . uh . . . ohmigod . . . co-o-o-o-ming.” He flings open the door.

“Hello,” Winnie says.

“This is an unexpected surprise.”

“I hope I’m not . . . interrupting anything.”

“If you were, I would throw her out.”

The bedroom is on the first floor. Winnie passes the open door. The sheets are rumpled. The suite is a duplex, two floors with terraces. She goes up the steps. Tanner follows her. He’s freshly showered. She can smell his cologne. (Cologne! The last time she was with a man who wore cologne was probably fifteen years ago. She can still remember it. Paco Rabanne. It was that one-night stand, and she probably wouldn’t have had sex with him if it hadn’t been for the cologne.)

“I’m just having tea,” Tanner says. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Winnie says. She sits down in front of a glass coffee table containing a tray with two teacups, a pot of tea, and lemon slices. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No. Someone just left. Unexpectedly,” Tanner says.

They both laugh.

“Evie?” Winnie says.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he says. He pours the tea.

“I’ve got something of yours,” she says.

“I like your shoes.”

“James gave them to me for my birthday.”

“Old Jimmy’s got better taste than I expected.” He pauses. Takes a sip of tea. Looks at her over his teacup. “How is old Jimmy, anyway? He wasn’t in very good shape when he left here last night.”

“I think he’s going to live. Unfortunately,” Winnie says.

“Have you come here to force me to make amends?”

“You could say that,” Winnie says.

“I think I know what you’ve come here for, Winnie.”

“I think you do,” Winnie says. (She isn’t sure what to say next. She’s never been good at flirting. Even with James, at the beginning, she flirted by being interested in his work. Her loss of interest in him sexually has decreased at the same rate as her loss of interest in his work.)

“I think this belongs to you,” she says. She opens her purse and hands him the small vial of cocaine.

“Aha,” he says. “What would I do without this?”

“I thought you might need it,” Winnie says.

“Thank you very much,” he says.

He stands up. He comes around behind her.

Winnie doesn’t breathe.