aka The Frazzled Mom
“How rude of me. I’m sorry um…” he murmured.
“Crissa.” She gave him a wink. “It’s all right.”
He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll be just one moment.”
Karl strode into his bedroom and searched through his bags until he found a sufficient amount of money. He felt the need to tip her more than just two dollars. A spritz of cologne, he paused to consider the graying man in the mirror. Didn’t a fan today say he was hot? He nodded in confirmation. He was a rather handsome man. Brushing back a few strands of hair, he felt satisfied enough to return to the other room.
When he’d returned, Crissa had a glass of champagne waiting for him. Taking the proffered drink, he paused for a moment. Was there some etiquette regarding this situation? Would it be in poor taste to ask? It’s not like she was part of the convention or a fan or anything.
“I hate drinking alone,” he said, mustering up as deep a timbre as his accent would allow. At the same time, he tried not to lay it on too thick. The thicker the Scottish accent, the more puzzled the onlooker. “Would you care to join me?”
She blushed. “Oh, I shouldn’t.”
He attempted a smoldering look and a rakish smile. “I won’t tell, if you don’t,” he said softly.
She giggled. “Yes, sir. I suppose so.”
He poured her a glass, which she snatched up before he could hand it to her. Karl smiled at the enthusiasm. Clinking his glass to hers, he toasted, “To all things good.”
“To all things…great,” she amended.
Karl downed the champagne, the liquid a much needed reprieve from a dry throat. Without a word, he found his glass filled again. He gladly drank more. But after the third cup, he began to feel a little lightheaded.
“Oh, I should sit down. I think this day has worn on me more than I realized.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you for the drink. I’ll leave you, then? Unless you’re in need of… anything else?”
There was a tone to her voice. Karl wondered if she was implying what he thought she might be implying. Attempting to figure out what she might be thinking made his head hurt. His thoughts were fuzzy and it was becoming exceedingly more difficult to concentrate. He shook his head.
“I—I appreciate the offer. I’m not feeling well at the moment. Perhaps another time?” He managed a smile, at least he hoped it came off as a smile and not like he was having a stroke. His face felt heavy and it was difficult to get the words out.
“Of course. I’ll see myself out. Enjoy,” she said with a nod and a smile. “Have a good evening, sir.”