He laughed then. ‘It is OK. You can bring me a fruit basket tomorrow night.’
‘I’m beginning to think you have a fruit habit and might, at any moment, go into withdrawal.’
He held out his hand towards her, making it shake a little. ‘I fear it has already started.’
This earned him another laugh and then a phone erupted. Hers, not his. He’d actually never met anyone whose phone went off as much as his – when he had notifications switched on. And she was already picking the phone up from the table.
He swallowed. ‘Boyfriend?’
‘Ha! No.’
‘Husband?’
‘It’s not him but he is still alive.’ She whispered. ‘Could never get him to take the poison.’ Then she answered the call, standing up and moving away from him, closer to the sea.
Spoken like someone who definitely wasn’t still involved. He shrugged his shoulders. Why did he care? He had been here a moment, hadn’t even opened Tinder in this new location, too busy and focussed for anything else right now. Those feelings were always fleeting, paper-thin, a desire rather than anything with substance, not like building an empire… God, he needed a drink. He looked behind him to the bar, closed for the night but nothing was inaccessible to him. He stood up.
He was halfway down his measure of brandy when Faye joined him.
‘How is your husband?’ he asked, taking a sip of the amber-coloured liquid.
‘Still breathing.’ She picked up the bottle he had got down from the shelf. ‘Unlike this almost expired Metaxa. I hope you donated to the honesty box.’
‘The what?’
‘When the bar isn’t open we have a policy for our guests to take drinks and leave money for them in the honesty box.’
‘Are you crazy?’ he asked, laughing.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Honesty? It is like something from Byzantine times.’
‘There is no honesty where you are from?’
‘I am from the same world as you. You tell me.’ He paused and then continued. ‘Do not tell me people here still do not lock their doors at night.’
‘Perhaps people here do not have much to lose compared to a VIP like you.’
‘Perhaps those with not as much would actually lose more.’ He slugged his drink down. ‘People just do not care about people.’
God, what was he saying? The answer was too much and he needed to stop drinking.
‘Maybe,’ Faye said, ‘you are hanging out with the wrong kind of people.’ She pushed the bottle towards him, the tiniest amount of liquor left in the bottom. ‘Kalinixta, Mr Petsas.’
‘Kalinixta, Mrs Lawson. Enjoy hanging out with all the good people.’
He poured the remainder of the brandy into his glass.
‘Please stop calling me Mrs Lawson. It makes me feel older than my not thirty-seven-year-old skin. My name is?—’
‘Faye,’ Kostas said, turning a little on his chair. ‘Your bearer of thegyrosbasket told me. And you know my name is Kostas so…’
‘OK,’ Faye said. ‘Good.’ She nodded. ‘Well, goodnight, Kosta.’
‘Goodnight, Faye. And do not forget to lock your door.’
She smiled. ‘And do not forget what I said about the honesty box.’
