In the Eye

Michael sat in a hotel bar in Cincinnati wondering how he could miss home already. Usually, it took a full day before he felt displaced, but a remarkably boring conference left him wishing for his pipe and Morgan's awful harpsichord. The ennui was hitting a point where he'd look forward to guessing what might cause his daughter to vomit green. The distance was more sharply felt after they both said they missed him. He tried telling them a bedtime story over the phone but the hotel phone thought otherwise. So, a scotch and soda was about the only comfort he could simulate here. In his usual manner, he mumbled to himself, “I would have brought my mistress if I didn't think she'd be bored to tears.”

A sharp “What!?” from his left made him roll his eyes in that direction. What he presumed was a woman sat on the stool next to his looking plenty indignant. She was wearing a nametag that said “Julie.” He looked at it and said, “You may want to remove your nametag unless you want a lot of men referring to you by your first name.”

He continued looking into his glass. She huffed a few times. He sat up straight and turned his body to face her. “Well, Julie, since you seem to have made the decision to be angry at me, may I buy you a drink?”

“Is this your idea of an apology?”

“No, this is my idea of not being bored. Do you want me to apologize for getting my ear blown out when you shouted into it or not staring at your chest with dirty thoughts running through my mind?”

She made another wordless noise, so Michael merely shrugged to himself, left a fifty sitting on the bar and walked away with his drink. She followed after him, “Hey! Where do you think you're going?”

“That is not your business to mind,” Michael responded without making eye contact.

“I wasn't done talking to you!”

“You weren't talking at all. You shouted one syllable and then proceeded to make a lot of noises, but no words. And then you wanted an apology, then more noises.”

“I ought to tell your wife on you.”

Michael's snapped out of his doldrums. He laughed. “What wife? Do you know who I am?”

She looked insulted again. “No!”

“Good answer. The right answer, actually. Good night.” Michael pressed the elevator button. He emptied the glass and left it on a table. He reached into his jacket for a key.

“So, who are you?”

Michael looked at her. “No one important enough for you to know. Trust me on that.”

“If you're no one important, then are you married?”

Michael shook his head. She seemed puzzled by the noise he made. As he stepped into the elevator, she squeezed in behind him. He crossed his arms and stared at her. “Going somewhere?”

She turned with all the pomp of someone who thought she had every idea what she was doing towards the elevator buttons only to realise that it only went to the top five floors, all of which required key access. She turned and smiled insincerely. “Mind if I go up with you?”

Michael pressed the door open button and watched her walk out. He stated flatly, “You would be attractive if it weren't for your attitude.”

She turned around in surprise as the doors quietly closed.