“That’s her major concern,” I said. “Your behavior.”
“What are you talking about?” Defensive, she wanted to argue, I could see and hear it in her demeanor, her sharp tone.
“The eye roll, the dismissiveness in your voice. You need to start taking things seriously.”
“Do you think I’m a fuck-up?”
“How much cocaine did you do last night?”
She twitched, squirming in her seat. She combed her fingers through the hair and looked out over the sun-kissed backyard. “None. I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She whirled around, her eyes darting around the area, glassware rattling under her jittery hand. She looked up to me, her eyes pinpricks of anger; she shook her head. “I didn’t do any drugs last night.”
“How long have you been doing drugs?”