Red pushed Rhett’s hair out of his eyes. “Do you feel all out of focus, honey? Confused? Sick to your stomach? What’s the last thing you remember?”
He closed his one good eye since the room had started to swim. “A funeral. Then waking up out in the alley.”
Red swore softly in her gravelly voice. Rhett opened his eye and saw she was a lot older than he first thought.
“Hey, Gloria. Here’s the whiskey.” The tattooed man leaned around and set the glass on the desk. “I’ll be in the bar if you need me.”
“Thanks, Lenny.” Gloria looked at him. “Drink it. I know it sounds like the last thing you might want, but you’ll need it, honey.”
Rhett picked up the glass and swallowed the amber liquid in one gulp, his nose wrinkling as the whiskey slid down his throat and hit his empty stomach.
“I suppose you don’t want the police involved, huh? You’ve been pretty busy lately, breaking up with your fiancée and fighting with Zak Mercury and dropping out of show business.”
Rhett grimaced. “She wasn’t my fiancée. She wanted to be.” He looked at Gloria. “And no police. You’re right. They say any publicity is good but I’m the poster boy to shoot down that theory.”
“Is she worth it?”
“Who? Randi? She never was. Biggest mistake I ever made.”
Gloria shook her head. “No, honey. Ponytail Girl. The one you beat up Zak Mercury over.”
Rhett closed his eye again and saw Cassie’s image floating there. “She’s worth it. Scrappy as they come. Would give you the shirt off her back.” He looked at Gloria. “And as beautiful and un-Hollywood as they come.”
The redhead smiled and, for a moment, Rhett saw the beauty she’d once been. “Your dream girl, huh?”
He grinned. “One who’s probably worried sick about me right now.”
“Then let’s give her a call, honey.”
Rhett snorted. “I can’t. I don’t have my cell.”
Gloria picked up the receiver on her desk. “Go ahead and use this, Mr. Hunk.”
Rhett looked at her miserably. “I can’t. I don’t know the number. I don’t know any numbers. I don’t even know my own number. I have to change it so frequently. I put all the ones I really need on speed dial. The others are in the address book. Cassie’s number two.”
“You’re telling me you don’t even know your own mama’s number?”
Rhett blinked. “She’s number three on speed dial. It’s . . . it used to be . . .” He slammed his hand down on the desk in frustration. “That’s one I know. Or I used to. I can’t think straight.”
Gloria patted his hand again in a motherly fashion. “It’s the roofie. They can totally wipe things out. They really mess you up for a while.”
“That’s the date-rape drug? I saw something on 20/20 about it.”
“Yes, it is. I’m sure you’ll remember all the numbers you need in time.”
“God, I need Cassie.” His eyes searched Gloria’s. “I know I’m asking a lot but could you give me a ride home? I can pay you when we get there. I swear I’m good for it.”
Gloria blushed. “Me? Drive Rhett Corrigan home to his mansion?” She stood. “You wait right there, honey. I’ve got to throw on some clothes and a little makeup.” She glanced down at her striped zebra bikini underwear set and sheer robe draped over it. “Don’t think your Cassie would want to meet me in these.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell you what, honey. Maybe we should put you in a shower before we take you home to your girl. You smell like a sewer and your face is a bloody mess. Maybe if you can soak that eye, we can get it to open.”
Gloria helped Rhett to stand. “Lenny’ll have a T-shirt and some sweat pants you can borrow. I’d suggest just throwing your clothes away. You can’t fix tears and stains like those.”
He couldn’t think well enough to form any words so he nodded and shuffled with Gloria down the hall.
“This is my little suite here. I manage the Pussycat now. Danced here for years and years. Slept with the owner and eventually started making the decisions and paying the bills when he got too feeble. In return for caring for him, he gave me the place outright in his will.”
Rhett managed a lopsided grin. “I guess you take care of a lot of people, Gloria. The girls here. Your customers. And people like me.”