#afanofdeduction

She went to one of the quieter bars at the side of the hotel, free of wedding guests except for Regina and Emma, who were far too engrossed in one another to notice her.  Good thing; she was in no mood to be sociable.  She just needed to down enough booze to send her into a dreamless sleep so she could deal with the steaming pile of crap that was her life in the morning.

She slid onto a bar stool next to a man in a suit, pulling the arrangement of white feathers and silk flowers from her dark curls and tossing it on the bar.

“Gin and tonic, please,” she said, in a subdued tone.

“Woman after my own heart,” said the bartender, a slender woman with a white-blonde bob and bright red lipstick.  “Single or double?”

“You got a triple?” asked Belle dryly, and the woman chuckled.

“Coming right up.”

“Sounds as though your evening went as well as mine.”

The man to her right had spoken, and she glanced across at him.  Middle-aged and thin, clad in a perfectly-tailored suit with a red silk shirt.  His hair was longer than usual, hanging around his face, his eyes dark.  His voice was softly Scottish, and she wondered what brought him all the way to Boston.

“Depends,” she said.  “Were you ever stupid enough to fall in love with your best friend and never tell them and then have to watch as they married your other best friend?”

The man grinned, his eyes twinkling, and leaned forward a little, lacing long fingers together.

“Well, one benefit of being heartless is that one never has to suffer such indignities.”

“You have no heart?” said Belle, in a wry tone.  “Sounds great, where do I sign up for that?”

His grin became mischievous.

“I’m saying that’s what I’m told,” he said.  “Usually by feckless tenants every rent day.  I would say that it hurt my feelings, but then I remember that I don’t have any of those, either.”

She couldn’t help smiling at that, a brief twitch of her lips, and the bartender set her drink in front of her, the glass frosted with condensation, ice cubes clinking.  She took a swallow, savouring the flavour of strong gin.

“God, thank you!” she said fervently, and the woman winked at her and walked off to serve someone else.

Belle took another slurp of her drink, licking her lips as she set down her glass.  Glancing to the side, she could see the man watching her, his fingers curled around a glass of whisky.

“So, I take it the wedding that has caused this intense desire for oblivion was held in this hotel?” he said.  “I have to confess the noise was a little much.  Hence my decision to hide in here.”

“Mine too,” she said.  “Too many happy couples dancing and - and being happy.”

“The bastards,” he said gravely, and she giggled.

“So,” she said.  “If you’re not with the wedding party, what are you doing here?”

“Business meeting.”

“I thought you were a landlord.”

His mouth pulled up at one corner.

“I like to keep busy.”

“So how come you’re drinking away your sorrows?” she said.  “Couldn’t make a deal?”

His grin widened.

“Oh, I always get what I want,” he said softly.  “Sometimes it takes a little longer than planned, that’s all.”

His eyes held hers as he said it, an intensity in them that made her breath catch in her throat.  She took another drink to hide it, feeling her heart thumping, and set down her glass, holding out her hand.

“Well, if we’re going to be drinking buddies, I guess we should introduce ourselves,” she said.  “I’m Belle.  Belle French.”

The man glanced down at her hand, then reached for it, his fingers folding around hers, his palm smooth and cool.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss French,” he said.  “I’m Reuben Gold.”