"Any trouble he has is his own fault," Zearsdale said. "You're the injured party, not him, and I'm going to make it up to you…"
He explained how he was going to do it. Mitch choked on an incredulous laugh, and a faint frown puckered the oil man's brow.
"I say something funny?" he said. "Your sister seemed very pleased by it."
"I'm sorry," Mitch said. "We appreciate your offer, of course, but naturally we couldn't accept it."
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because we couldn't! I mean, it's impossible. It's the same as making us a gift of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars!"
Zearsdale murmured that it wasn't the same at all. He owed them something for the embarrassment he had caused them and for exposing Birdwell as a cheat. By allowing them to pick up Birdwell's stock option, at less than half its market value, he was only repaying a debt.
"You're not depriving anyone of anything, Mr. Corley. The option's there. If you don't pick it up, it will simply lapse."
"I'm sorry." Mitch shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we just couldn't."
He lighted a cigarette, taking his time about it. Very carefully, he shook out the match. A little weakly, he again repeated that he was sorry. Avoiding Red's eyes; the pained and furious question that was in them.
"You were saying," Zearsdale persisted, "that you and your sister didn't know much about business. Now, if you'd like to consult your banker…"
"No, no," Mitch smiled quickly. "It isn't that at all."
"But you won't accept the offer? I guess I don't understand that kind of pride, Mr. Corley. But if that's the way you feel…"
He put down his glass, and suddenly stood up. With a cold nod, he started toward the door. And then Red was abruptly across the room, apologetically touching his arm.
"Please, Mr. Zearsdale. My brother doesn't mean to be stuffy, but, well, our funds are pretty well tied up. Invested. We-well, it might be rather difficult to-to-"
Mitch silently cursed her, even as Zearsdale's face cleared and became friendly.
"Oh," he said. "Well, I can understand that. How long do you think it would take you to shake loose, Mr. Corley?"
"I'm not sure," Mitch said. "I'm not sure it would pay me to shake loose at all."
"For a hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Nonsense!" The oil man laughed firmly. "You just put your banker in touch with me. He'll go for it, regardless of what your set-up is."
Mitch said that he would see about it. What the hell else was there to say, after Red had booby-trapped him?
"Then it's all settled," Zearsdale said. "You call me in a couple of days, okay?"
"Okay, Mitch said, "and thanks very much."
They walked to the door together. As they shook hands, a curious expression flickered briefly across Zearsdale's face. The look of a man who has been struck by a sudden and implausible notion. Then, it was gone and he was gone, and Mitch slowly closed the door.
Red was fixing herself a drink. She tasted it, and turned around to face him.
"Well?" she said, "Well, Mitch?"
"Too bad," Mitch said easily. "I wish it had been as good as it sounded, honey."
"You mean it wasn't? Zearsdale was making all that talk just to stay in practice?"
Mitch chuckled fondly. "Now, baby. Even you ought to know that a guy isn't going to make us a present of one hundred and fifty grand."
"What do you mean, even me?" Her eyes flashed. "Just how stupid am I supposed to be, anyway?"
"Let's drop it," Mitch said. "Let's just for God's sake drop it!"
Red shook her head angrily. "I asked you a question, Mitch, and I want an answer. Why did you turn Zearsdale down? Because it would have forced your hand-given us all the money you say we have to have to get married?"
"What?" Mitch snorted. "Now, what kind of sense does that make?"
"You heard me. Yesterday we needed a quarter of a million dollars to pull out of this racket and settle down. A hundred grand plus what we have on hand. So today it falls right into our lap, and you give it the brush. No reason. You don't ask me what I think. You just-"
"I didn't think I had to ask you. You've always said that I was the boss."
"Well…" She slowed down a little. "Well, you always have been, Mitch. But…"
"But now I'm not?" He felt her weakening and pressed the point. "It has to be one way or the other, Red."
She looked at him hesitantly, then put down her glass and came swiftly to him. Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his, then stepped back, frowning slightly at the calculated coolness of his kiss.
"It shouldn't have to be that way, Mitch. Not if you really love me."
"Are you saying that I don't?"
"It's not what I'm saying that matters. Mitch. It's what you're not saying. Just because I don't demand explanations doesn't mean that you shouldn't offer them."
Her reasonableness was infuriating. Mitch said for God's sake, how many times did he have to tell her? "I don't think Zearsdale was leveling. I don't know what he's trying to pull or why, but I'm certainly not going to take practically our last dollar and hand it over to him!"
"But he told you to consult your banker," Red pointed out. "He surely wouldn't have done that if he was pulling a fast one."
"How do you know he wouldn't? What do you know about business?"
He pushed past her and went to the bar. Dumping whiskey into a glass, he brooded savagely that this was really too damned much. He was so near broke that his backbone was snapping at his belly button, and he was being crowded for dough from all sides. And now Red was throwing her weight around. Demanding an explanation for the inexplicable. Adding to the agony of losing the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity which Zearsdale had offered.
He turned back around from the bar, again found himself facing Red. "Well?" he said. "Any more nutty questions?"
"Don't you get sarcastic with me, Mitch!"
"Well, don't act like a damned fool, then! I-Ouch!" he said, for Red had suddenly slapped him. "Why the hell did you do that?"
"I'll do it again if you call me a damned fool! My mother took that guff all her life but I'm not going to!"
"What? What the hell has your mother got to do with it?"
"And you just stop cursing me, too!"
"But goddammit, I-"
Red slapped him again. Mitch grabbed her, hauled her kicking and squirming to the lounge, and turned her over his knee. Jerking up her housecoat, he gave her bare bottom a resounding whack!
"Now, let's knock it off," he said, jerking her upright again. "We forget Zearsdale, get me? It's all over, kaput!"
"Oh, no it isn't," Red said. "Don't you kid yourself it is, Mr. Mitch Corley!"
Her red hair was tumbled around her face. She tossed it back, her breasts swelling and trembling as she fought to control herself.
"I'll tell you when it'll be over, Mitch. When you answer just one question for me. Do we or don't we have more than a hundred thousand dollars put away?"