“I’m telling you now because I just remembered, and also because I wouldn’t put it past him to bring it up in the worst, most insinuating way right when you’re in the middle of talking about whatever it is you’re going to talk about just so he could get the upper hand. The perceived upper hand, because he doesn’t have any upper hand at all, he’s just very good at throwing monkey wrenches into things in order to turn them to his advantage. So . . . that’s it.”
Naz looks at the ice bucket with champagne on the small table between us. He takes the other crystal flute from its small silver holder, pours himself a glass of champagne, drinks it, then sets the glass back on the table and calmly says, “I really, really, really hate that guy’s guts.”
“I thought it was important that you know.”
“
