Sam disappeared into the right restroom, leaving Nina to focus on her single malt and the merry men and women about her. For all their boisterous shouting and pushing, it was a peaceful crowd visiting the Balmoral tonight. In the commotion of spilling beer and stumbling drinkers, the movement of darts opponents and dancing ladies, Nina quickly noticed the one anomaly — a figure sitting alone, practically motionless, and quietly by himself. It was rather intriguing how out of place the man looked, but Nina figured that he was probably not there to celebrate. Not all drinking was to celebrate. This, she knew all too well. Every time she lost someone close to her, or mourned some regrets of the past, she took drink. This stranger seemed to be here for the other reason to be drinking.
He appeared to be waiting for something. That was enough reason to keep the sexy historian’s eye on him. She surveilled him in the mirror behind the bar while she sipped at her whiskey. It was almost sinister, how he did not move, save for the occasional lift of his arm to drink. Suddenly he rose from his chair and Nina perked up. She watched him moving remarkably swiftly, to which she discovered that he had not been drinking alcohol, but ice coffee in an Irish coffee guise.
‘Oh, a sober wraith, I see,’ she thought to herself, following him with her eyes. From her leather purse, she pulled a pack of Marlboro and slipped a fag from the carton lid. The man looked her way, but Nina maintained her ignorance while lighting her cigarette. Through her deliberate smoke billows, she could watch him. She was silently grateful that this establishment did not adhere to the smoking law, since it was on land owned by David Purdue, the rebel billionaire she used to date.
Little did she know that the latter was the very reason this individual chose to patronize the Balmoral Arms tonight. Not a drinker, and evidently not a smoker, the stranger had no reason to have picked this pub, Nina reckoned. It made her suspicious, but she was aware that she had been a bit too protective, even paranoid, before, so she let it go for now and returned to the task at hand.
“Another one, please, Rowan!” she winked at one of the bartenders, who promptly obliged.
“Where is that haggis who was here with you?” he joked.
“In the bog,” she chuckled, “doing God knows what.”
He laughed as he poured her another amber soother. Nina leaned forward to speak as discreetly as possible in such a loud environment. She pulled Rowan’s head to her mouth and plugged his ear with her finger to make sure he could hear her words. “Have you noticed a man sitting in that corner over there?” she asked, motioning with her head toward the empty table with half an abandoned ice coffee. “I mean, do you know who he is?”
Rowan knew of whom she was speaking. Such docile characters were easily discernible at the Balmoral, but he had no idea who the patron was. He shook his head and returned the conversation in the same manner. “The virgin?” he shouted.
Nina frowned at the epithet. “Been ordering virgin drinks all night. No alcohol. He has been here for three hours already when you and Sam showed up, but he only ordered ice coffee and a sandwich. Never said anything ‘bout anything, you know?”
“Oh, alright,” she accepted Rowan’s information and lifted her tumbler with a smile to dismiss him. “Ta.”
It had been some time that Sam had been in the toilet and she started to feel an inkling of concern by now. More so, since the stranger had tailed Sam into the men’s room and he too, was still absent from the main room. Something did not sit well with her. She could not help it, but she was simply one of those people who could not let something go once it bothered her.
“Where are you heading, Dr. Gould? You know what you will find in there cannae be good, eh?” Seamus bellowed. His group roared in laughter and suggestive yelps that only provoked a smile from the historian. “I did nae know you were that kind of doctor!” In their howls of merriment, Nina knocked on the door of the men’s room and leaned with her head on the door to better hear any response.
“Sam?” she cried. “Sam, are you okay in there?”
Inside, she could hear male voices in heated conversation, but it was impossible to distinguish if either belonged to Sam. “Sam?” she kept hounding the occupants, knocking. The argument became a loud crash on the other side of the door, but she dared not enter.
“Fuck,” she sneered. “That could be anyone, Nina, so do not go in and make a fool of yourself!” Impatiently, her high heeled boots tapped on the floor as she waited, but still nobody emerged form the ‘Cocks’ door. At once, another massive racket ensued inside the restroom, sounding quite serious. It was so loud that even the wild crowd took notice of it, somewhat subduing their conversations.
Porcelain smashed and something large and heavy thumped against the inside of the door, knocking hard against Nina’s petite skull.
“Good God! What the hell is going on in there?” she shrieked angrily, yet she was simultaneously afraid for Sam. Not a moment later, he jerked open the door and bolted right into Nina. The force knocked her over, but Sam caught her in time.
“Come, Nina! Quick! Let’s get the fuck out of here! Now, Nina! Now!” he thundered, pulling her by her wrist through the crowded pub. Before anyone could ask, the birthday boy and his friend vanished into the cold Scottish night.
3
Watercress and Pain
When Purdue pried his eyes open, he felt like an undead lump of roadkill.
“Well, good morning, Mr. Purdue,” he heard, but he could not trace the location of the friendly female voice. “How are you feeling, sir?”
“I feel a bit queasy, thank you. Can I have some water, please?” he meant to say, but what Purdue was mortified to hear from his own lips was a request better left behind the doors of a brothel. The nurse desperately tried not to laugh, but she too, surprised herself with a cackle that instantly shattered her professional conduct, and she sank to her haunches, holding her mouth with both hands.
“My God, Mr. Purdue, I do apologize!” she mumbled from behind her hands, but her patient looked decidedly more ashamed of his behavior than she could ever. His pale blue eyes gazed at her in horror. “No, please,” he surveyed the accuracy of the sound to his intended words, “excuse me. I assure you it was a scrambled broadcast.” Finally, Purdue dared to smile, although it was more of a wince.
“I know, Mr. Purdue,” the kindly green-eyed blond acknowledged as she helped him sit up just enough to take a sip of water. “Will it help to tell you to know that I have heard far, far worse and much more jumbled than that?”
Purdue wet his throat with the clear coolness of the water and answered, “Would you believe it would bring me no solace to know that? I still said what I said, regardless of others making fools of themselves as well.” He burst out laughing. “It was rather lewd, was it not?”
Nurse Madison, as her name tag read, giggled heartily. It was a genuine cackle of delight, not something she staged to make him feel better. “Aye, Mr. Purdue, it was superbly well aimed.”
The door to Purdue’s private room opened and Dr. Patel peeked around it.
“Sounds like you are doing well, Mr. Purdue,” he smiled with one eyebrow raised. “When did you wake up?”