“I don’t see how that will help.” Meredith was complaining about their topic selection as she and Tory left the office building. She had just lost her husband to another woman, so Tory let her bitch for awhile. “Is the worst man alive really what we want to see? Is it supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It’ll probably make you feel worse.” Tory was always unforgivably blunt. “But that’s — well it’s not the point really, but it is necessary.”
“Why is it necessary?”
“Just because. Now let me get you a cab.” Tory stepped onto the curb, put two fingers in her mouth, and whistled.
Three cabs stopped. In Manhattan.
Tory was the only who could ever really hail a cab on the first try. It was widely accepted that cab drivers were probably just scared of her and decided that it would be best to abide by her wishes.
Of course the fact that Tory came from money and was thus never strapped for cash or stingy might have had a greater bearing.
She put Meredith in the cab and leaned in the front window. She handed the driver a trio of bills and gave him Meredith’s address.
“Go home and enjoy the weekend.”
Meredith slumped. She had forgotten about the weekend. Two days alone in an empty apartment.
She must have said the latter part out loud because Tory bared her fangs. “It had better be empty.” She held Meredith’s eyes. “I mean it. If he’s there, or if he tries to get it, you call me and I’ll pummel his ass.”