Chapter 4

Justin sat at the hotel bar staring down into the amber colored liquid of his whiskey sour. It wasn't exactly a "man's drink," but the sour mix masked the taste of the alcohol enough to allow him a decent buzz. He wanted to numb his mind a little, just enough to forget Alex. Of course with her in the same hotel that proved to be a difficult task. The bartender wasn't helping matters.

"I know that look," he said as he placed Justin's third drink in front of him, "trouble with a woman."

Justin scoffed and lifted the glass to his lips, "it doesn't make any sense," he mumbled into the drink, "it's messed up is what it is."

"Women always complicate things," the bartender replied as he tossed a red dish cloth over the shoulder of his white button down shirt.

"Not like this one," Justin insisted as he drank deeply. The quicker he got the alcohol in, the faster it took hold of his senses. It wasn't long before he was feeling the previous drinks effect. Not being what one might call a "party guy" in college he was kind of a lightweight when it came to drinking. The drinks kept coming and as the liquor began dancing through his body Justin found himself opening up to anyone who would listen.

"… and to make matters worse," he exclaimed as he gestured with his glass, liquid sloshed over the side, "she's my sister!" His voice was slightly slurred, but his cheeks were pinked and his eyes glassy. His black tie was loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt were opened showing just the faint hint of dark chest hair. His suit coat was tossed haphazardly across the chair next to him.

"You mean it feels like she's your sister," the bartender corrected with a laugh. He was obviously assuming that this was some tortured love affair between close friends that felt like they were related. If he only knew.

"No," Justin began, saw the bartender's raised his eyebrow, and quickly backtracked, "I mean, yeah, it feels like… whatever, it's weird," he finally settled on before finishing his drink. He'd lost count as to how many he'd had.

"I'll have another," he ordered as he slammed the glass down on the bar top.

"I think that's enough, cowboy," the bartender said as he gestured to someone over Justin's head, "I think you should go to bed, you'll think clearer in the morning."

"Wha- oh, yeah, you're right. I'll go to morning and think clearer in the bed." Justin grabbed his suit jacket, put it over his arm and stood up, "whoa," he muttered as the room gave a quick spin before righting itself. The man the bartender gestured at was now beside Justin, reaching out to steady him. Justin headed out of the bar and bumped into the doorframe on his way out.

"Who put that there?" He grumbled as he staggered out with the man at his side.

"The architect, sir."

"Well he should be fired."

"Yes, sir. I'll help you to your floor." The two men stepped into the elevator, Justin leaned against the wall for support.

"What floor, sir?" His handler asked with his finger poised over the elevator's buttons.

Justin's room was on one of the lower levels, but in the instant before his brain could send the proper signal to his mouth he whispered, "top floor."

"Very good, sir."