Rox asked, “Is he all right? Were you in a car accident or something?” Though she didn’t see any bruises on him.
“He’s just dead drunk,” Maxence said.
“It’s nine in the morning,” she said, stating the obvious like an idiot.
“And I finally dragged him out of the nightclub an hour ago. Even with my phone, I got lost twice getting back here. I’m not used to driving in cities anymore.”
Cash said, “I thought you guys must have gotten back late, but I thought you were here. Should we take him directly to bed?”
“Let’s pour some water down him first,” Maxence said.
“Yes,” Arthur mumbled. “Water.”
“You’re too kind, Maxence,” Cash said. “I think we should teach him a lesson.”
So Rox led the way, opening doors for them, while Arthur stumbled between Maxence and Cash, and they dumped him in a chair at the kitchen table. Rox poured a glass of water with ice and found a straw leftover from one on their many takeout suppers. “I think we’ve got some sports drinks around here somewhere, too.”
“Water first. Then salts.” Arthur laid his head on the table, his cheek pressed against the wood. “Someone kill me, please.”
“He said please,” Maxence smirked, falling into a chair beside him. “It would be impolite not to kill him now.”
Rox sat beside him and held the straw for him to drink. “Poor baby.”
Arthur sipped water from the straw she pointed at him and muttered, “Thank you. Will you marry me?”
Rox chuckled at him and held the straw for him to suck some more.
“I have a castle in England,” he told her, drunkenly, between sucks of water. “You can live in my castle with me. You’ll love it. It has a moat. And dungeons.”
On the other side of Arthur, Cash was watching her taking care of him. While he wasn’t exactly frowning, his blank expression reminded her of the time an opposing counsel had tried to convince Cash that he should sign a contract for his client without reading it. They had picked up the sheaf of paper and thumb drives and walked out without another word. This blankness was a rage too blinding to be spoken aloud.
She smiled at Cash, and his mouth curved up a little, slightly mollified.
“How much did you drink last night?” Cash whispered to Arthur, bending to talk to his face mashed against the table.
He groaned, “God only knows. Ask Maxence.”
“An impressive amount. His tolerance has increased,” Maxence said.
Cash grimaced. “And how much did you spend?”
From where his face was mashed against the table, Arthur mumbled, “Thirty, I think. Maxence, did you keep track?”
“At least thirty. Perhaps thirty-five.” Maxence’s disdain for this number flattened his voice.
“That’s not so bad,” Rox said, poking the straw between Arthur’s lips again. “What, did the pretty boy get the girls to buy his drinks?”
“No,” Arthur muttered from the table, his lips around the straw.
“I’m afraid not,” Cash said, shaking his head.
“Then how did he spend only thirty-five dollars?” Rox asked.
“Thousand,” Maxence said. “He spent at least thirty, perhaps thirty-five, thousand last night.”
“Thousand?” Rox asked, her voice rising in horror. “You spent thirty-five thousand dollars in one night?”
“Euros,” Arthur muttered, straining to push himself up from the table. “I think in Euros.”
“That’s more like forty thousand dollars,” Maxence supplied. “And we stayed in town.”
“My ever-loving God, Arthur! That could have funded the animal shelter for six months! What did you do?”
“Not even his usual bender,” Maxence told her. “I talked him out of powering up his jet and flying a bunch of women to Las Vegas for the night. You should have seen him in London last year, flying women all over the continent.”
Arthur growled at him.
Rox asked him, “You were hanging out with the women, too? Aren’t you supposed to be a priest someday?”
“Oh, I didn’t partake,” Maxence said, his hands in the air, innocent palms out. “I had a few drinks, just enough to be social, and then I dragged his sorry carcass home so that he wouldn’t be lost in a foreign city. I didn’t indulge in even a fraction of the debauchery that he financed.”
Cash patted Arthur’s shoulder gently. “You know that this only gives your brother fuel for the fire.”
“I know,” Arthur moaned.
“Were there pictures?” Cash asked.
“Of course, there were,” Maxence said, grimacing. “I tried to keep him in private rooms, but the Earl of Givesnofucks insisted on buying rounds and drinking with the common people, usually while dancing with a couple of young women on the bar.”