It was her last plea for him to see things from where she stood, but Corrigan threw it back at her. “Well, at least they add a bit of fun to life for a change. Is that supposed to be bad or something? It might do you a bit of good to get out of that stuffy lab and away from your notes, and find out what life is all about for once.”
Evelyn rounded on him like a goaded cat. “Yes, of course, there are plenty of more glamorous women out there, aren’t there—with more tits than IQ points,” she spat. “And pricey dresses bought on someone else’s expense account. Is that the attraction in all these new playpens that you’ve been discovering?”
“Damn right!” Corrigan yelled.
Her eyes blazed at him for several seconds, inviting him to take it back. He glowered back defiantly. The hell he would. She turned away, tight-mouthed, and went over to the phone. “Well, enjoy,” she told him. “And when you come to your senses, or your `friends’ decide to ditch you the same way they did Eric, don’t bother looking. Have a nice life.”
“What are you doing?”
Evelyn didn’t answer him. “Hello? Yes, I’d like a cab, please. It’s two twenty-three Elm, Fox Chapel. . . . Right away. I’ll be waiting outside.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Corrigan demanded.
“It’s none of your business. Probably back to Boston.” She disappeared along the hall leading to the bedroom, then came back a few moments later, clutching her purse and pulling on her coat.
“What about your things?” Corrigan said. “I hope you’re not expecting me to send them.”
“I wouldn’t want anything that reminds me of this place. I’d rather start from scratch again.”
“Well, isn’t that typical,” Corrigan sneered. “Have you ever seen anything through in your life? The project goes live in three weeks, and you won’t even stick around to see the end of what you’ve been working for.”
“I’m not interested in the stupid project. It’s changed you and it’s ruined us. You stay and watch your precious project. I wouldn’t want any part of a world that your kind of friends created.”
Anger surged up inside him suddenly then. His pride would not permit the affront of letting her walk out first to leave him standing there with the choice of either submitting passively or climbing down. He swept his jacket up from the chair where he had draped it and opened the door before she could reach it. “Suit yourself,” he threw back over his shoulder. “It won’t bother me. I’m going to get very, very drunk.”
“Isn’t that just—”
He slammed the door before she finished, and went out the front of the house. His car screeched out of the driveway moments later.
But he did not get all that drunk. After he’d had a couple in one of the bars downtown and calmed down a little, he went to the phone and called the Vista Hotel. A minute later he was through to Amanda Ramussienne.
“Why, Joe, how nice to hear from you,” she purred. “I enjoyed talking to you at lunch so much. Where are you?”
“Just a few blocks away. It occurred to me that it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to let you go back tomorrow without so much as a goodbye. Have you eaten?”
“Not yet, after this afternoon.”
“I haven’t yet either. I thought you might like to join me. What do you think?”
“What a nice idea.”
“How are you fixed?”
“Sure, I can make it. Give me forty minutes to spruce up.”
“I’ll be there at eight,” Corrigan said.
“I look forward to it,” she murmured. There was just the right hint of a double entendre in the way she said it.
* * *
Nothing had changed when Corrigan got back to the house in the early hours. Evelyn had gone. It gave him a feeling of unencumbrance and freedom, of decks cleared for what had become the only important thing in life. Oz was his. He had wrested it out of what had seemed a lost cause, when every sign had pointed to Tyron taking control via COSMOS. He felt like a grimly confident general on the eve of battle. Even if his closest ally had deserted him in the final hour, nothing could take away victory now.