A/N: Inspired by the novel 'Whirlpool' by Elizabeth Lowell.

Charade

One

August 2002

The blast of cool air feels wonderful on his face as he enters the three star hotel. He strides through the lobby at an easy pace, he is tall and attractive but no one seems to notice this man of mystery. He holds his head high and keeps his focus straight ahead never glancing at the many people he passes on his way to the lounge. If anyone ever inquired about him, no one would be able to recall seeing him.

She sits at the end of the bar, her dark hair drapes on her shoulders and her dark eyes hide many a secret. She is tanner than usual though even in the dead of winter her skin has an olive tone to it. He finds himself staring. He has known her now for close to 20 years. She is sipping a clear colored beverage. Vodka, he smiles. Some things never change, he occupies a bar stool, not next to her but with one empty stool between.

The tall, tan and blond haired bartender notices him immediately. "What can I get for you Sir?" He asks as he wipes off the bar, with a damp towel.

Keeping his head down, never look in their eyes, "Glenlivet, one ice cube."

"Coming right up," the young man steps away to fulfill his task.

She turns her chair in his direction, "My ex-husband use to drink that," she takes a sip of her beverage, "Wonder if he still does."

He turns to face her, pointing at her glass, her empty glass, "Ready for another?"

She delicately removes her body from the seat and positions herself next to him, "Thank you." He takes her hand and helps her up onto the barstool, directly to his right. Smiling as she places the glass on top of the counter, "Thanks again, a gentlemen, I thought you all were a lost breed."

The bartender returns with his drink, he places a napkin down then the glass. "The lady needs a refill," he says keeping his focus on her and her alone.

"Sure," he answers immediately and removes her glass.

They keep their focus straight ahead, remaining silent. The bartender returns placing her vodka over ice before her. She nods her head as she says, "Thank you."

He picks up the glass before him, raising it to his lips, "We have a problem," he takes a sip. He lowers his head as he rubs his eyes, "He has a big shake down planned for this weekend," he lifts the red straw from the glass, "He is getting paranoid and he wants to clean house," he taps the straw on the side of the glass. "He is determined to have only a loyal few in on the big score, the final score."

"Final? Why?"

"Getting old, getting too old is all he keeps telling me." He replaces the straw in the glass.

"He trusts you that much?" she asks.

He nods his head slowly, "For the last few weeks he wants me by his side," he leans to his right, "And I mean by his side."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because aside from that I had nothing to tell you, till now," he exhales. "He trusts me but....he doesn't trust her and it seems that everyone has him doubting their loyalty. She along with a few others are going to be done away with."

"Was her cover blown?"

"No," he states flatly, "Victor is slowly losing his mind," he takes a long sip this time. "He could turn on anyone." He sits erect in the seat, moving his head to scan the room, "I can take care of him, if you agree."

"No!" she exclaims with an angry tone, then scans the lounge. The four other patrons didn't seem to hear or care. "Keep your head."

He raises the glass to his lips, "Don't I always?"

"Yes," her anger slowly fades, "We need him to get to the one at the top, when will that be?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know, Victor has something brewing," he taps his temple with his index finger. "In his head but he has kept quiet about where and when." He sets the glass on the bar, "I have to get her out of there."

"Seven months," she leans closer to him. "Seven months Bobby," she whispers. "You've been in on this, you make a move like that and they…."

"I can't just stand by and do nothing. I won't let her die," he grabs her arm. "I won't Angela." She exhales at his emotional display. He releases his hold immediately, this time they both scan the room, no one is interested in their conversation.

"Victor wants you to do it?" She asks surprisingly.

Shaking his head, "No, not me. I don't know who." He picks up the glass raising it to his lips, "Maybe I should volunteer, he already knows I've been sleeping with her." He takes a short sip.

"Not a good idea, you haven't shown him a side of you like that, he won't buy it." His last few words sink in, this time she grabs his arm, "You've been sleeping with her? Is that true or just a story for Victor?" His silence gives her the answer, "You're," her voice squeaks; she clears her throat speaking softly. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"I don't know, what is love?" he nervously taps his fingers on the bar. "I've never been in love before."

She frowns as she places her hand atop of his to quiet the tapping,"What about your daughters' mother?"

The conversation has turned personal and they can look at one another, "We were never in love, don't get me wrong she is a wonderful woman and we lived together for five years but love?" He shakes his head, "No. We never got married." He flashes a smile that causes Angela to smile, "Best thing we ever," he pauses. "Didn't do….we would have ended up hating each other."

She removes herself from the stool, "Room 82," she speaks softly so only he can hear, she leaves.

He doesn't follow her, he doesn't watch her, he remains. Picking up the glass that holds his beverage, he downs the remaining alcohol and orders another one. Love, now I know what it is, it sucks.

Never shown much love as a child it took the birth of his daughter to realize that you could care so much for another human being that it could make your heart ache from not seeing her. He sips his drink calculating the last time he saw his ten-year-old little girl, eight months, how is he any better than his absentee father. He missed her tenth birthday party, he sent a gift and called that day to make sure it arrived, she was thrilled at the gift and she was happy that he remembered. She tried not to make him feel bad that he wasn't there. He smiles as he removes her photo from his wallet. She has his eyes and coloring, her mother's smile and she is blessed with her mother's grace and beauty. He stares at the photo oblivious that someone has taken the stool next to him.

"She's beautiful," a familiar female voice, says, "Is she one for the taking?"

His first thought, pick up his glass and smash it against her head, "No…." he says sternly as he shakes his head. "She's my daughter."

Frowning, she replies, "No shit, I never knew that," she notices his sad expression, "Sorry, lover."

"Ginny," He turns his body to look at her, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Me?" she answers coyly. "What about you?" She calls to the bartender, "Hey handsome, I'm thirsty."

The young man can't help but smile, "Yes Ma'am."

He chuckles as he replaces the photo into his wallet, Ma'am, that's debatable.

"Gin and tonic." The bartender offers a smile then turns away to fulfill his task. "What were we?" she pauses. "Oh yeah, I have a meeting with a client," she pats his arm. "I have forty five minutes to kill," she says harmoniously as she places her arm around his shoulder. "You know the ole saying if you got the money honey…" the bartender returns with her drink. "Thanks honey." She takes a quick sip, "It's been a long time." She states plainly.

Nodding his head, "Yes it has." Less than two years ago he would have taken her to the darkened part of this bar and without hesitation she would give him a blow job while he finished his drink, now the thought of it makes him feel ill.

"You look tense; I can ease some of that tension."

The offer is considered, then denied. "No thanks, I have some work to do." He picks up the glass, downing the rest of the liquid inside; he slaps a twenty on the bar. Removing himself from the stool, "Take care of yourself Ginny," he touches her shoulder, "Be careful."

She smiles, "I will lover," she pauses. "Take your own advice." She calls out to him. He raises his arm and offers a slight wave, never turning to face her.

He walks through the lounge and into the lobby at a slow, steady pace, always careful, not to draw attention to himself.

That is all for now.