Death In The Family

Chapter 10

Anders should not have ordered so many gin and tonics at the hotel bar, but by the time they had arrived at Chicago for the layover to the flight to Copenhagen, he had begun to sober up dangerously.

"Vidar," he sneered down at his brother lounging in the waiting area by their gate. "Let's go find something to drink."

"Go by yourself," Vidar sneered back.

"No! We gotta talk," he tried not to slur, sober enough to know he was failing in that task. "And I gotta drink. Right now. Come on."

"Ohhh no. No, no, no way are we going to talk in public when you're drunk. Fuck all the way off with that idea," Vidar said firmly, slinking down further into his chair. "Take Simone with you if you want to talk."

"She's not old enough."

"Fuck, don't you start on that bullshit too," Vidar grumbled as he pressed his fingers to his forehead in aggravation. "She's not a child, for Christ's sake!"

Anders teetered on his feet, confusion hurting his head. "What? No, she's not a... I mean she's not legally old enough to drink in this country. Wait... you don't think he was lying about that, do you? Shit... Shit, she looks younger than twenty, doesn't she?"

"Remember the whole talking thing I'm not doing with you?" Vidar frowned. "Fuck off."

Anders glowered at him before pivoting on his heels and walking out into the busy terminal. His brother was usually right, but he was always a tremendous jerk about it. Except for last night. There was nothing right about that. He needed a drink before he started thinking again.

"Gin," he said as soon as he caught the bartender's eye. He decidedly hated airport bars. They were too sterile and controlled, the atmosphere already too oppressive from the heavy police presence and constant urgency of flight times. He suspected they watered down their booze and made up his mind to drink twice as much based on that assumption.

"Gin and tonic? Coke? Soda?" the young bartender asked.

"Gin."

Two hours was plenty of time to work up a decent drunk and twenty hours was plenty of time to sober up. He leaned against the bar counter as he drank the first gin and something, the taste ghosting over his tongue unnoticed as he tried to become interested in the baseball game playing next to the screens running cable news stations. It was dreary work.

"Is this seat taken?"

Anders blinked out of his daze when he realized the question was directed at him. He glanced at the woman, then at the several other unoccupied chairs at the bar. He wondered briefly if she was either rude or an idiot before it occurred to him that he was about to be hit on.

"Oh..." he frowned. "My English... not so good. Sorry."

"I don't mind," the woman smiled, wriggling onto the stool next to him. "Wow, you get into a fight or something? You're all banged up, buddy."

"Yes," he answered stiffly. He waved to the bartender, calling out, "Gin!"

"Make that two!" she added.

Anders glanced at her again. She was attractive, maybe just a little older than him or his age, friendly and forward. There was no reason for him not to be flattered at the attention, at the very least. He was used to these types. Easy, hearty women who knew what they wanted. Uncomplicated, predictable, fun, comfortable if only for an evening. Two hours was plenty of time to waste getting acquainted with the American breed of this type.