“The spoiled Shareholder brat, you mean.” Fitz grinned.
“Oh, you were never as bad as some of them, sir.”
“Damned with faint praise,” said Fitz, laughing now, flopping down into a chair. “Anyway, do you know what happened to Cartup? And has Bobby got any drink left in this place?”
Meilin gave him a wink. “I hide it. Otherwise. that useless bunch of Shareholder friends of his drink it up. And Talbot Cartup recovered three days after you disappeared.”
“So I’m in the clear after all! Well, well.” He stood up again. “Hold the drinks, Meilin. I’m going to pop in on my old girlfriend. Clear the air. Tell her I wish her well. Y’know, there’s nothing like six weeks of boot camp to give you a new perspective on life.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” asked Meilin worriedly. “She did try and have you arrested, Fitz. Why not wait until Van Klomp gets home?”
Fitz shook his head. “When he gets home I’ll be back with a few decent bottles. I’m going to see Candy, see my Old Man. Get things off my chest.”
He went out onto the streets of George Bernard Shaw City, whistling. Took a cab across town. He really must get the Aston Martin out of hock. The fines on it must be astronomical by now. He walked up the stairs to Candy’s rather pretentious penthouse apartment door. He felt in his pocket. He still had the key in his wallet. Then he paused. He must remember to give it back to her. After all, he had no rights to it anymore. He knocked politely on the imitation oak-paneled door.
She opened it, and stared as blankly at him as Meilin had.
“Afternoon, Candy.”
She gave a little squeak of pure, unrefined terror. “Conrad! Don’t. Please. I promise . . .” she panted, backing away.
He shook his head at her. “I haven’t come to hurt you. I just came to say good-bye, good luck and I hope you’re happy. I’m off to NCO training and then probably the front. There’s a chance I’ll get killed, so I’m clearing things up. I just came to say good-bye. And no hard feelings. Anyone could make a mistake. I suppose it was natural you should think that I’d done it.”
“You—you’re not—” she whispered, hands still ready to thrust him off.
He shook his head, walking calmly into the familiar apartment, a bubble of unholy amusement at her reaction making him grin. “No. I’m not even mad that you accused me. I suppose it was a natural thought.”
“Oh, I know it wasn’t you, now. It must have been one of Talbot’s enemies, who did it to shame him. It was half-dark and I made an awful mistake. Look, Conrad, I . . . I’m most terribly sorry. I’m just a weak woman. Talbot organized it all . . . He made me break up with you. I promise. Of course I’m really still in love with you, darling.” She stepped up to him and embraced him, plastering herself onto him.
As she rubbed her breasts and thighs against him, and lifted her beautiful face to be kissed, Fitz had to admit that maybe Van Klomp had called the shots remarkably closely. What a damn fool he must have been. All the same, it was distracting to have her body this close, after six weeks of sweaty male company. He pushed her away, but gently.
“It’s all right, Candy.” He rather enjoyed calling her that, now. “You don’t have to fake it. Look, it’s over. I just came to say . . . well, I’ve gotten over it. I wish you happy. I guess you got what you really wanted. I’ll be going now.”
She looked consideringly at him. “Must you? Yes, I suppose you’d better. Look, sit down for a minute. There are a few things you gave me that I want to return. They’re in my bedroom . . . unless you want to fetch them with me?” she asked, licking her short upper lip.
Was that an invitation? Now? After all this? Suddenly, Fitz knew he’d rather bed a viper. “I’ll wait.”
He sat down.