“Please take a seat, Laura,” Williamson said.
Laura sat down on one of the leather sofas.
“Thank you.”
“Would you like a drink?”
Though she felt extremely thirsty, she politely declined.
“Oh come now, Laura. Let’s live it up a little. This is a night club, after all. You are the first person in my ten years of ownership who has refused a drink.”
“Oh well. OK. A glass of water would be nice.”
Williamson walked over to the bar.
“Pellegrino or Perrier?”
“Umm, either. You decide.”
“I like that. Owner’s choice. OK.”
Williamson poured their drinks in heavy crystal glassware and handed one to Laura by the stem. He sat down a few feet away from her on the couch.
“Cheers, Laura,” he said, taking a drink.
“Thank you, Mr. Williamson.”
She sipped her sparkling water.
“Call me Phillipe.”
