Golden Lies - Barbara Freethy [21]
"Looking for a friend," she replied.
"Aren't we all? Just how good a friend are you looking for?" he asked with a wicked grin. "Because I can be pretty damn good, you know what I mean?"
"A monkey would know what you mean. Does that line work on intelligent women?"
"Did I say intelligence was a requirement?" He gave her an exaggerated wink.
"My mistake," she said with a laugh.
"What do you want, the usual chardonnay in a pretty glass?"
"I'd like a vodka gimlet."
"You don't drink vodka."
"I do tonight. In fact, forget the gimlet part and just get me the vodka."
"Oh, my God!" He clapped a dramatic hand to his forehead. "You went to see your mother. Why on earth would you do that?"
"It was a last resort, believe me."
"Paige, Paige, when will you learn?"
"Shut up, Jerry. I didn't come here for a lecture. I came here to get drunk."
"You don't get drunk." Jerry Scanlon pulled out a bottle of mineral water, poured it into an ice-filled glass, and handed it to her. "Try this."
"There better be some vodka in there."
"Then I'd have to hold your hair while you threw up. I'm not going to do that again."
She tried to frown, but ended up smiling instead. Jerry was the closest thing she had to a brother. The son of one of their housekeepers, Ruth Scanlon, Jerry and his mother had moved into the apartment over the garage when Paige was eleven years old. At thirteen, Jerry had been a tormenting pest, an irritating big brother, and a best friend. He'd saved her from lonely isolation, and their friendship had nourished for five years, until his mother had gotten fired during one of Victoria Hathaway's annual servant purgings.
Paige could still remember the sixteen-year-old angst she'd felt when Jerry and his mom had moved away to San Diego. Seven years later, Jerry had come back to San Francisco, and they'd found each other again. They'd kept in touch over the years, an odd but close friendship between a red-haired, freckle-faced pro athlete wannabe turned bartender and a sophisticated, blond debutante. She hated to think of herself in those terms, but she knew most of Jerry's friends thought of her in exactly that way. Not that they mingled with friends much. They moved in different circles except when they were together, which wasn't as often as she would have liked. Paige felt guilty about that, but Jerry understood how often she was torn between what she was supposed to do and what she wanted to do.
"My mother wants me to marry Martin," Paige said, reminded of what she was supposed to do now. "If I make a pro and con list, I will see that he's perfect for me."
"Martin Bennett? You can do better." Jerry wiped down the bar with a damp towel. "Is that all that's bugging you?"
She shook her head. "My father is nowhere to be found."
"What else is new?"
"It's different this time. He took a valuable artifact from the store. The owners are very upset. I managed to stall them until tomorrow, but I haven't been able to find my dad. He doesn't answer his cell phone. He's not at the store. He's not at home. I'm worried."
"He'll show up. He always does. You know what you need?"
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
"A game of pool. Or, as you Hathaways call it -- billiards," he said in a mocking British accent.
"I don't think so," she replied with a shake of her head.
"Come on. When was the last time you played?"
"Probably the last time you talked me into it."
"I've got a break coming up." He set his towel down on the bar. "Let's rack 'em up."
"Why do I let you talk me into these things?"
Jerry grinned. "Because you love me."
* * *
Paige Hathaway got off the bar stool and followed the bartender through a door leading into a back room. Riley frowned, wondering what the hell she was up to. He hadn't been surprised when she'd gone to the gym or even to her mother's house, but this latest stop didn't make sense at all. This wasn't the kind of upscale bar she would frequent. These people weren't her crowd. And who was the