“I’m sorry.” The woman’s hand covered her mouth.
“No problem,” said Carl, “I’d almost finished it.”
She looked at the beer soaking into the dust of the hotel garden, bearing witness to Carl’s white lie. “At least let me get you another.”
“No, no,” Carl couldn’t help his gaze flicking to the hint of cleavage visible through the gap of her blouse. Damn, he thought, why don’t I just announce my lack of charm thirty seconds after I meet her? He remembered the laptop screen and slammed it shut so hard he was afraid he had damaged it.
“Please.” The woman didn’t seem to notice his over-reaction. “If you don’t tell me what I spilled, I’m going to get you a two litre coke and watch you so you feel you have to drink it.”
Carl couldn’t help but laugh. He should be trying to get rid of her but no excuse came to mind. “Belgian white. Thank you.”
“Okay.” She looked around, but no waiter was in sight. Everyone else was inside, which was hardly surprising as the sprinklers had been dry for months and the desert reclaiming Phoenix had long since stifled the garden.
As the woman headed for the bar, Carl wondered how she’d managed to spill his drink when she had the whole garden to avoid it.
Spookmoth was published in Wicked Words Quarterly #1, which is no longer available. It is now available as a standalone Kindle edition.