15. Deep Throat

"Everyone … allow me to introduce … the light of my life, Maxwell Sheffield!"

CC's announcement fell into a dead silence. While she had been waiting, tossing down one glass of punch after another, dancing to the hackneyed salsa music on the speakers and slowly losing her grip on what remained of her self-respect, the other reunion guests had gone – every single one of them. The only human being to witness Maxwell's arrival was an elderly janitor sweeping up the fallen streamers and dirty napkins. Drunkenly, CC wondered why he didn't sweep her up as well.

"I think we'd better go," said Maxwell, gently detaching her arm from around his shoulders.

"I think … you're right."

He kept her arm linked through his as she made her stumbling way to the taxi outside. Even now, she appreciated the warmth of him; even her black cashmere wrapper was not enough to keep off the chill of a spring night. She waited to speak until they were inside the taxi, with the plastic barrier solidly in place between them and the driver. What she had to say should not be overheard.

"How could you do this to me, Maxwell?" she burst out, with a sob that shook her entire body.

"I'm srry, CC," he retorted, not sounding sorry at all. "But what did you expect me to do, leave Miss Fine on her own?"

"On her own? Ha!" Beyond dignity, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose with the expensive wrapper. "She had Niles and the children right there with her. I was the one left on my own! I was counting on you to be there, and you … you threw me to the wolves!"

"Don't be dramatic, CC. It's only a reunion."

"Easy for you to say!" She closed her eyes and leaned back into her seat, then opened them again. The taxi smelled disgustingly of cigarettes and alcohol; even though the latter was probably her own fault, it did not agree with her long-suffering digestion.

"You have no idea … what these women are like, Maxwell," she sobbed. "They're … they're vicious. I'd almost rather have my tonsils out again than go to another of these parties. I told them you were coming. I made a complete fool of myself. They probably think I made you up or something, and they're all giggling at me behind their backs. If I have to hear one more fake-pitying 'Awww!' because I'm single and have no children … "

"Then why in Heaven's name do you keep spending time with them?"

"Because … because they're the only friends I have."

"I'm your friend, CC," said Maxwell. "I thought you knew that."

"I know."

CC heard herself say this almost from a distance, and for a moment, she felt a strange, distant sort of pity. Who was the woman saying these things? Why was she here, pathetically drunk, rattling along in a filthy taxi with a man who didn't love her?

"Oh God, Niles is right," she slurred. "At least when he offers something … even if it's just a, a clean toilet or a piece of cake or something … people take it. Who in this world wants anything from me?"

"Come on, partner." Maxwell awkwardly reached out to pat her hand, the way she had seen him do with his daughters when they were upset. "I'd be lost without your head for business. Even Niles respects you in his way."

"Hmph!"

"No, really, he does. I've known him since we were boys. He wouldn't spend half so much time sparring with you if he didn't consider you worth his time."

Sober CC would have made him a withering retort to prove just how little she cared about the opinions of a butler. Intoxicated CC was absurdly gratified by the idea that Niles respected her.

"Don't you dare tell him about tonight," were the last coherent words she managed to say.

"Not a word," said Maxwell. "Scout's honor."