His was much the same, but he crossed out the daily fee and inserted the words “his usual hourly or daily rate.” That should keep Lance from calling on him too often.
He called Holly, and she came downstairs. “Lance has been busy,” he said, handing her the contract. “This seems all right to me. If you want to sign it, I’ll messenger it back to Lance.”
She read it and signed it. “By the way,” she said, “could you please stop being jealous of Lance?”
Stone looked shocked. “Me, jealous? Of Lance?”
“There were a couple of times last night when I thought you were going to slug him.”
Stone blushed a little. “I’m sorry if I seemed that way. I’ll work on it.”
“I should think that, after last night, you wouldn’t have anything to feel jealous about.”
Stone got up and closed the door.
“What, on the desk?” Holly asked. “There’s a bed upstairs, as I recall.”
“I just don’t want Joan to overhear this. She’s giving me a hard enough time already.”
“Oh, I was looking forward to doing it on the desk.”
“I’m already a shell of my former self,” Stone said, sitting down.
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “You’ve got a lot more mileage left in you.”
“If I have a month to rest.”
She got up and opened the door. “You’ve got until after dinner,” she said, then she went back upstairs.
Stone hoped he could recover in time. He gave the signed contracts to Joan and told her to copy and return them to Lance.
17
STONE TOOK HOLLY to the Four Seasons, because it was the most elegant New York restaurant he could think of, and because it was within walking distance.
Holly had spent the afternoon shopping and had come home with bags from Armani and Ralph Lauren, the result of which was a black Armani dress that made Stone forget he had had too much sex the night before. They settled into a good table in the Pool Room.
“What would you like to drink?” Stone asked.
“A vodka gimlet, three-to-one, straight up, shaken so cold the bartender’s fingers stick to the shaker.”
“Two,” Stone said to the waiter.
“Would you like a particular kind of vodka?” the waiter asked.
“Anything will do,” she replied. When the waiter had gone she said, “Vodka is nothing but grain alcohol that has been cut in half with water. I don’t know what the big deal is about brands. It’s not as if it’s eighteen-year-old Scotch.”
“I agree,” Stone said. “Do you always give such explicit directions when you order a drink?”
“Just with vodka gimlets,” she replied. “Bartenders never measure, and they always put too much vodka in them.”
“You’re a control freak, aren’t you?”
“Just with vodka gimlets.”
“The dress is. . . You make that dress look gorgeous.”
“Well put, and just in time. I thought you were going to tell me the dress makes me look gorgeous.”