“I’ve never tasted a better drink.” The words come out of my mouth half-slurred, but they still sound fine to me. Totally fine. Absolutely fine. I’m at the top of my game. I’ve never been so happy in my fucking life.

“What are you muttering about now, Wes?” Gideon cocks his head and narrows his eyes at me. “The first three weren’t enough to convince you?”

I give him what I’m certain is a rakish grin and he bursts out laughing. “No. They were not.”

“You’re in bad shape, man.”

The music in the club is blaring, the vibrations thrumming through my entire body in a way that makes me feel decidedly ill. 

“I’m in great shape.”

“You never drink this much.”

“How would you know? You’re always in the Virgin Islands or some other shit tropical destination.”

He reaches over and claps me on the shoulder. “I’m here now, buddy.”

“Why are you here?” The reason seems hazy.

Gideon raises his eyebrows. “You wanted to go out. You called me, remember?”

“Yes. Absolutely I do.” The lights from the DJ station pierce my eyes. I cannot possibly be the one who decided to come to this hellhole. That must have been all Gideon. “But we should pick a different club. Or a bar. A quiet bar. A bar where I can get some peace and quiet.”

Now Gideon looks at me like I’ve landed from another planet. “I knew something was up with you when you suggested this place.”

“No.” I point at him with one finger, some of the drink—I don’t know what the fuck it is, some kind of cocktail that tastes like pure sugar, lousy with alcohol—sloshing out onto the table. “This was you. This was all your fault.”

“I plead not guilty.”

“You can’t.”

Gideon gets up from his chair and hoists me to my feet, his hand firm on my arm. “I think it’s time for you to go home.”

“To my empty fucking penthouse apartment? Not a chance.” Gideon is steering me through the crowd. Everyone in it divides into mirror images of themselves, slamming back together in a multicolored haze. “I want to go where there are women.” 

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

We’re moving past coat check, and I know there aren’t going to be any women outside. Not that I want to take home with me. None that I’ll even settle for taking home with me. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But there’s some reflex that has me staring at everything that moves. 

Stop looking for her everywhere you go.

“I’m not,” I say.

“You’re not what?” Gideon pushes open the door in front of me and ushers me into the waiting town car with Dave in the front seat. I tip over onto my side while I’m getting in and am overtaken by a fit of laughter. Gideon has to lift me upright to get in behind me and shut the door. 

“His place, Dave.”

“Not a chance.” I slump back against the seat. “That was by far the worst club I’ve ever been to. Let’s go to that shithole you took us to before the bachelor party.”

“She put you through the ringer, didn’t she?” Gideon says.

“Who are you talking about? The waitress?”

“Your girl. The one you whisked off to Maui.”

“Oh. Her? She’s nothing.” The words fly out into the air on the wings of the alcohol, but the lie sends a stab of pain through my heart. It doesn’t matter. I’m better off without her. I could have chased her. I could have stayed in that room in that fucking nursing home and insisted on having it out. But I didn’t. I left, and she doesn’t give a shit. Which is best for both of us.

“I want to know what happened, but I don’t think I could get a straight answer out of you.”

“I left, is what happened. She didn’t want to leave with me, and I left, and ever since then she’s disappeared.”

Gideon’s face is a swirling mass of features, swimming before me, but I can see that his forehead is wrinkled. “Disappeared, like—is she okay?”

I wave my hands in the air. “She’s fine. She just won’t return my calls.”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” I slur.

“Jesus.” Gideon shakes his head. “The penthouse, Dave. Let’s go.”

“Do not take me to my penthouse, Dave.” I’m shouting, my voice way too loud for the interior of the car, but I don’t care. I take Gideon by the front of his jacket. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go to the club of your choice—see how generous I’m being?—and we’re going to find a woman there. I want a woman who’s a million times better than Juliet. No. I don’t care about that.” I shake my head, willing him to get the point. “Here’s the thing, Gideon. I’m free. I should never have gotten so damn involved with any woman. I want a one-night stand. I want something hot.”

The words are poison, and even in this state I can tell that Gideon’s not buying a single bit of it. I’m not, either, and it’s coming out of my own mouth.

“Let’s go inside, buddy.”

“What the fuck?” I whip my head around. We’re parked in front of my building, but I don’t remember the drive. I don’t even remember Dave pulling away from the curb at the club.

“I haven’t seen you like this since that Melody girl in college. You are in no state to go out looking for a piece of ass.” Gideon’s tone is no-nonsense, and I scowl at him as he pulls me out of the car and toward the building.

“I did the right thing,” I protest, resisting him.

“I don’t think so, man.”

“I did. It’s better this way. If I’m never with a woman like that she can’t fuck me over and smash my heart into a thousand tiny pieces. Why would I do that? Why would I ever do that again?”

Gideon shares a look with the doorman and hustles me to the private elevator, pulling my phone out of my pocket for me.

“I feel like shit.” 

The doors slide shut in front of us, and I slump against the wall of the elevator. Gideon pats my arm. “I’m sure you do, Wes. I’m sure you do.”