Rogue

“Yes, he is kind of like your father,” Blake replied. “They're both doctors.” He was starting to feel pleasantly drunk too, and he didn't mind it a bit. If he was ever going to get drunk, tonight was it.

“I'm a doctor too,” she informed him with a loud hiccup. “A shrink. I do trauma. Didn't I meet you recently in Morocco?” She laughed uproariously at her own question, and he did too.

“You look different in combat boots. I think I like you better in heels.” She held up a shapely leg and looked at her delicate gold sandals and nodded agreement.

“Me too. The boots gave me blisters.”

“Wear heels next time,” he advised her, sipping his vodka.

“I will. I promise. You know,” she said, sipping the champagne, “we have really nice children. I love them very much.”

“I do too.”

“I don't think Charles likes them,” she said, frowning.

“They don't like him either,” Blake said, and they both laughed hard at that too. And then Maxine squinted at him as though from a great distance.

“Why did we get divorced anyway? Do you remember? I don't. Did you do something bad to me?” She was definitely drunk by then, and so was Blake.

“I forgot to come home.” He smiled sadly.

“Oh, that was it. Now I remember. That's too bad. I really like you … actually, I love you,” she said, smiling benignly at him, and hiccuped again.

“I love you too,” Blake said gently, and then his conscience got the better of him. “Maybe you should go to bed, Max. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow at your wedding.” Champagne was always a killer the next day.

“Are you asking me to go to bed with you?” she asked, looking a little startled.

“No, I'm not. If I did, Charles would be really pissed tomorrow, and you'd feel really guilty. But I think you should go to bed.” She finished the last of her champagne as she said it, and by then he could see she was really drunk. The final glass had made the difference, and he was feeling very drunk too. The vodka did him in after a long night of drinking, or maybe it was seeing her that way, in her gold dress. She was intoxicating. She always had been for him. He suddenly remembered, and wondered how he could have forgotten.

“Why do I have to go to bed so early?” she pouted at him.

“Because, Cinderella,” he said gently, scooping her up in his arms, and lifting her off the couch, “you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you don't. And you're going to marry the handsome prince tomorrow.” He started walking her to her bedroom.

“No, I'm not. I'm marrying Charles. I remember that. He's not the handsome prince. You are. Why am I marrying him?” She looked suddenly annoyed, and Blake laughed as he staggered and nearly dropped her, and then got a better grip. She was light as a feather.

“I think you're marrying him because you love him,” he said as he walked into her bedroom, and put her gently on the bed, and then stood looking at her, weaving slightly. They were both as drunk as skunks.

“Oh, that's nice,” Maxine said pleasantly. “I love him. And I really should marry him. He's a doctor.” And then she looked at Blake. “I think you're too drunk to go home. And I'm too drunk to drive you.” It was a fairly accurate assessment of the situation. “You'd better stay here.” As she said it, the room was reeling around him.

“I'll just lie down for a minute and sober up, if that's okay with you. And then I'll drive home. You don't mind, do you?” he asked, as he lay down next to her in his dinner jacket and his shoes.

“I don't mind at all,” she said, as she turned toward him, and put her head on his shoulder. She was still wearing the gold dress and the gold shoes. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“That's the name of our boat,” Blake said, with his eyes closed, and passed out cold.

Chapter 24

The phone rang interminably in Maxine's house the next morning. It was ten o'clock, and it rang and rang and no one answered. Everyone was still sleeping. Sam finally heard it, and got out of bed to go answer it. There wasn't a sound in the house.

“Hello?” Sam said, still wearing his pajamas, as he yawned. They had all been up late, and he was tired. He didn't know where anyone else was, except he knew Daphne had had too much champagne the night before, but he had promised not to tell when she threw up when they got home.

“Hi, Sam.” It was Charles. He sounded wide awake. “Can I talk to your mom, please? I just want to say hello. I know she must be very busy before the wedding.” She had told him that she had someone coming to do her hair and makeup. And he was sure the house was a zoo. “Can you go get her? I'll only take a minute.” Sam put down the phone, and padded in his bare feet to her bedroom. He looked through the open door, and saw both his parents sound asleep with their clothes on. His father was snoring. He didn't want to wake them up, so he went back to the phone and picked up the receiver.

“They're still sleeping,” he announced firmly.