"Be right there."
I flush the toilet and run the water, drying off my hands on the cleanest-looking towel there is and then take in a deep breath. I go back to the seating area and sit back down beside Reynolds. When I look up, Julien has a joint out and is lighting it. He offers it to Reynolds, who shakes his head.
"No thanks," he says. "Makes me throw up."
"You must be sensitive to THC," Julien says, taking a hit. "What's your poison?"
"Do you have any scotch?"
Julien blows out the smoke and turns to the sound system where Vasily stands.
"Vasily, my dear man. Do we have any scotch?"
Vasily bends down and opens a cabinet on the dry bar. He holds up a bottle of Glenfiddich. Reynolds nods.
"Good man," Reynolds says when Vasily brings over a glass and the bottle.
Julien sucks on the joint, inhaling deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs, and then blows it out slowly. He takes another hit and then holds the joint out to me. "Here, have some."
I shake my head, avoiding his eyes.
"That wasn't an offer."
"I don't do drugs," I say.
He shakes the joint in front of me.
"That wasn't a request. It was an order, Eve."
"Do you have any vodka? I'd prefer a drink."
"Smoke this."
"You can't force me."
"Oh, I can." He extends his hand to me again. "Would you like to see me? There are ways."
I relent, not wanting to see him try, for I suspect he could easily do it and I don't want the evening to devolve into some kind of strange drug assault. I take in a weak puff of smoke and inhale it briefly before coughing it out. I try to hand it back to him.
"No, you finish it," he says. "I've got another one all ready for myself." He lights another joint and pulls hard on it as if he's desperate to get stoned. He blows out a lungful of smoke and leans back. "Vasily, what are you having? Don't tell me it's vodka or I'll throw something at you."
"I'm Russian. Drinking vodka is like breathing." Vasily sits on the third couch, bringing his bottle of vodka and an icy shot glass with him. He pours a shot and then holds the glass up to the group. "VasheZdorovie–your health."
Julien and Reynolds hold up their respective poisons and I follow suit, holding my joint up.
"Your health," Julien says.
Vasily then downs the shot and smacks his lips.
"OhKhorosho– it feels so good." He winks at me. At least he still likes me.
"Eve," Julien says, pointing at me with his joint. "You're letting it burn out. Smoke it. It's some really good stuff."
I take another puff but try not to hold the smoke in too long. I don't want to lose control for fear I say something really stupid.
"Come on," he says, waving his hand. "Finish it off. I don't want it wasted. Besides, you look all uptight like you don't enjoy our company." He turns to Reynolds. "Do you think she looks a bit uptight tonight?"
Reynolds takes a sip of scotch and leans back, his arm on the back of the couch behind me.