8.6
“Hey Roger – this is what I call a room!”
Even through the alcoholic glaze, Julia could see it was in fact two or perhaps even three rooms –
“Oh my God – it’s a suite of rooms!”
That bastard Marlon had only booked her a single.
“Would you like another drink?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure?”
Buck didn’t look so sure.
“What do you mean?”
“Of course, we could have them bring up more daiquiris but…”
“But what?”
“How about a change of pace.”
He slipped a small bag of white powder from the pocket of his jacket and threw it casually onto the table.
Julia stared at it.
“What is it?”
“Cocaine.”
Impulsively she tried to stand up, but couldn’t.
“What do you take me for?”
“I just thought…”
“What did you think?”
“I thought you might like it.”
Why?
“Do I look to you like a drug addict?”
“Not at all!”
Buck laughed it off –
“I just thought you might like an occasional toot, that’s all. I mean, most people seem to…”
“I’m not most people,” she said, glaring at him. “And if you’d seen the havoc that drug has reaped around me I doubt whether you would have anything to do with it either.”
Again she tried to get up but her body was heavy, reluctant.