Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 08

Six drinks - one tomato juice - should have made Peter suspicious. Jennifer had been drinking tomato juice that first night.

Like a pet poodle on a leash, Peter followed mindlessly to the furthest table in the lounge.

"Where have you been?" Ruth seemed politely interested.

"You're as pale as ghost," Karen shrieked in that affected, little girlish voice she often assumed. "Have you been locked up in a cave?"

Then she turned to Bob to commandeer his attention.

Jennifer said nothing. She stared through Peter as if he didn't exist.

It hurt. Holding her in his arms waltzing to Strauss had been heaven. This was hell.

"Hello," Jennifer's voice was cold and emotionless.

There was nothing to keep Peter here in the group. His eyes moistened and he realized he was on the point of breaking. It would take all his self-control to remain, self-control he did not have.

"Thanks for the beer, Ted. I owe you one." Peter threw the beer down his throat, turned on his heels and made his way towards the exit, well aware of the puzzled looks from both Bob and Ted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bob caught Peter at the door and grabbing his shoulder, wheeled him around to stand face-to-face. "We've drunk together for years and you've never done that with a beer before."

Hands on hips he cornered Peter against the doorway. "What the hell's got into you?" Bob was furious.

"You! That's bloody what." This time Bob would not misconstrue Peter's bitterness. "You and your bloody great mouth."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bob really did not know.

"You had to scream to the world about our bet." Peter's hatred made Bob wince. "I ought to..." Peter closed his fist but customers bursting through the door separated them.

Bob bounced back.

"I'm sorry I opened my mouth to Jennifer but let's not fight over her. We've been friends too long."

Pausing he waited but Peter said nothing. "I'm sorry for stepping out of line. I only asked her if the pair of you had a date. She seemed reluctant to discuss you although she had pictures of you spread all over her desk. Strange that."

His eyes wandered to the ceiling as if seeking an answer there. "She didn't want to talk at all so I merely said 'Good, then Peter's lost his bet' and left.

"Ted told me she rang him, must have got his number from Ruth. Before he knew it, she had the facts from him. Sorry. Neither of us meant to hurt you."

Peter crumpled, all the fire gone. Just an empty shell remained.

"Come on back." With a kindly gesture, Bob took his friend's arm and led Peter back to the bar. "A stiff whiskey's what you need."

Patiently, he talked quietly as Peter downed not one, not two but three whiskeys in quick succession.

Peter's knees knocked. Those drinks raced to his brain.

The walk back to Jennifer seemed endless and Peter wanted it to last so that his fuddled brain could clear. He would need all his faculties if he were to get through the next few minutes.

"You've brought him back. Goody." Karen clapped her hands like the silly little school girl she was. "Bob, you scattered so many chairs racing after Peter the barman thought there was a brawl."

She began to laugh, "I thought Peter was a great grizzly bear but you bounced out like a fighting koala."

Even Peter laughed but he knew his laugh didn't sound right.

"What did you do to him, Bob? You've only been gone five minutes but by Peter's look he's had his head in a brewer's vat." Ted looked concerned.

Peter knew that he had difficulty focusing but he didn't realize the others knew. Ruth's stare told him those whiskeys had been just what he didn't need. Slumped over the table, his chin propped in his hands, Peter was beyond caring how Jennifer saw all this.

Through a haze, Peter could hear Ted's voice coming from the far end of a tunnel.

"What did you do, Bob? He's almost out cold."

"I gave him a couple of whiskeys but he insisted on having a third." Bob was defensive. "He needed them. He's been working so much and he seemed so down..."

"You fool. You bloody great fool!" Ted's retort cut into Peter's brain.

"You know he can't drink. Two beers and he's drunk, three and he's sick. Come on, girls, we'd better get him out of here. Christ - sorry girls - he's had a bad time that he, of all people, really doesn't deserve."

Ted was worried. "Come on, Bob. Help. Don't just stand there like a bloody great, useless, shag on a rock."

They dragged Peter to his feet. That much he knew. He was almost sober enough to hear the girls organizing vehicles and to feel hands searching his pocket for keys.

"At least we'll find his car. He always parks it in the same place." Ted was quietly confident.

"You can drive Peter's car, Jennifer. I'll take Peter. Bob, take the girls and follow me."

"No!" That voice cut through Peter's alcoholic fumes. "Put Peter with me."

"You'll never manage him." Only Bob knew how difficult Peter had been.

"Oh, I'll manage." Jennifer's voice had a tone that brooked no argument. "You others go on as you'd planned."

She laughed. "I was having an early night so this drunkard hasn't caused me to change my plans."

Peter closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift. The oncoming headlights were far too bright. The movement of the car and the engine's hum lulled him to sleep.

"Can you move?" Jennifer was tugging at his sleeve.

A groan was all the answer Peter could muster. He felt two security guards manhandling him to the lift.

"We've never seen Mr. O'Brien in such a state in all the years we've been here. What happened to him, Miss? Do you need any further help?"

Jennifer's comment as she stood Peter in the lift cut into Peter's brain.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't need help and he'll rue the day he got like this." Peter's mind raced. She sounded just as his wife should sound.

"Come on. I'll make a coffee for you."

He felt an arm drag him onto the sofa and heard sliding sounds as she opened the windows allowing the fresh breeze to help clear the fog.

"Jennifer..."

"Ssh! Coffee is what you need."

Hot sweet coffee scalded his tongue. Slowly his brain began to clear - almost. More and more coffee followed until he almost drowned in the chocolaty liquid.

"Feeling better?" Jennifer leant across the table, her face concerned. She was no heartless, unfeeling Ice Maiden.

"I'll be better in a moment. Sorry I was so much trouble. I must've spoiled your date," Peter could not stop torturing himself.

"Stop being silly. Just this once, stop being silly."

"I'll be gone in a moment or two. Just let me rest for a while."

"You're going nowhere. You're so drunk you can't even recognize your own apartment." For such a delicate young woman, half Peter's size, Jennifer knew how to be bossy. "Stand up, you drunk."

The laughter in her words told Peter she was teasing. "What a pitiful sight you are. Lean on me. You'll be more comfortable in here."

Jennifer pushed and pulled him until he sank into the incredible softness of his bed. There he lay motionless. She tugged his shoes free and a cool hand swept his hair back from his eyes. Delicate fingers traced a path across his cheek. The sound of drawers opening, the rustle of clothing and the spatter of a shower didn't disturb him. He was just too drunk to care.

Her warm voice asked, "Are you all right?"

"My head's still on." His speech was slurred. "But the bed is rocking. If only the bed would remain still I'd be perfectly all right."

"You can't drink, can you?" There was a delicious tinkle to her laugh.

"I don't know what came over me. Usually I'm so careful." It was difficult getting to his feet and standing until Jennifer put her arms around him. Automatically, Peter put his lips to her hair. "Jennifer, I..."

"Stop that," she giggled. "You're in no fit state." Her push was enough to topple Peter back onto the bed but he dragged her down with him. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?" She was worried, "I didn't bring you home so you could get..."

"Up to funny business?" Peter smiled through those last words. With his arms around her, his lips on her neck and breathing in her female essence, he passed out.