CHAPTER 8
A light pressure on Jeff’s arm stopped the argument he’d never won before he even brought the attack to Phillip.
Mandy was shaking her head slowly.
Right.
It was just Phillip, the master of no tact.
He’d always been that way and aging hadn’t added a softer voice to his blunt blade.
Phillip, seeing the bait unbitten, moved back to his exploration of the apartment, kitchen to living room.
Jeff practiced some deep breathing exercises which must have helped a little, he managed to get Mandy a glass of a nice Merlot without too much fumbling about. Behaving was a possibility, perhaps limiting himself to water or a V8, tomorrow was show day after all.
He poured a triple Glenlivet into a highball glass, without an ice cube. Single malt scotch was still the only anodyne to his
