The Ups and Downs of Being Dead Read Online Free PDF

was. He’d swiveled around to get another look at her through the
back window of the cab.
    He pounded the driver’s headrest and told him to stop, but
as soon as the cab drove away, Robert had second thoughts. Surely, Amanda was
meeting someone – a boyfriend? Other models? What if they all ridiculed him? He
tortured himself with worst-case scenarios, including a drink tossed in his
face, before he finally yanked the door open and walked in.
    The bar wasn’t at all what he’d expected, no glitzy lights
or loud disco music. It’s only purpose was catering to drinkers, with a long
bar along one side and booths down the other. There wasn’t even a jukebox, just
a radio playing quietly beside the cash register.
    That late at night, most of the barflies were slumped over
their drinks. A boozer near the front door slid off his stool and shuffled
toward Amanda, who was perched on her own stool midway down the bar. The guy
slowed when he got closer, but before he could even open his mouth, she
snapped, “Get the fuck away from me.”
    She hadn’t even turned to see who it was. And she hadn’t
glanced hopefully toward the door when Robert walked in.
    So maybe she wasn’t meeting anyone. More confused than
confident, Robert took a stool three seats away from her, noting the shot glass
clutched in her fingers. She tossed back the amber liquid like she was in a
drinking contest. Before the booze had time to hit her belly, she was signaling
for another.
    Once the bartender refilled her glass, he sauntered down to
where Robert sat staring. Without taking his eyes off the woman, Robert ordered
a Dewar’s on the rocks. The smirk on the bartender’s face challenged Robert to
get farther than a “fuck you” from the bitch.
    He downed half his drink for courage, then braced an elbow
on the bar and turned.
    “You know,” he said, “this might not be the best place for a
lady to be seen drinking like that. Someone might get the wrong idea.”
    Why had he thought she might find him gallant, or charming?
    She stared straight ahead, checking him out in the filmy
mirror behind the booze bottles. When she spoke, it was a loud, bust-your-balls
brashness that everyone in the bar could hear.
    “Why do men think they can start up a conversation with a
woman they’ve never met just because they’re in a bar?”
    Robert kept his voice low and calm. “Actually, we have met.
Amanda Litrell – right?” He swirled his scotch across the ice cubes before
taking another sip. “I was at Sherry McClintock’s after-show party.”
    The party certainly hadn’t been the social event of the
season. With her short-lived career as fashion designer in the toilet, Sherry
McClintock had scuttled off to Europe to fade into oblivion. But fade, she did
not. Instead, she fell in with a jet-setting crowd on the Riviera, met the emir
of some Middle Eastern country, and became the wife of one of the richest men
in the world. They were undoubtedly the most sought-after guests at the most
upscale events worldwide. And suddenly, people who boasted that they had
attended her one and only show were semi-celebrities.
    With a slow turn of her head, Amanda looked down the bar at
Robert, her eyes in a lazy half-mast. One eyebrow cocked up. Did she think he
was lying?
    Her voice dropped to conversational level. “And who are
you?”
    “Robert Malone.” He gripped his glass, preparing for a
second humiliation. “I own the Audrey’s chain.”
    As expected, she snorted, rather unladylike, and shot her
next Cuervo. “The king of cheap knock-offs. And what are you doing in New
York?” The tequila caught up with her and she wobbled on her stool. “Trolling
for more fashion ideas to rip off?”
    Robert stood, stretching his chest up and out. Do or die
time. “Why don’t we move to a table where you’ll be more comfortable while you
insult me?”
    Would she call him a gnome again? Was that when he’d get the
drink in the face? Actually, she didn’t have a drink