"Okay Mom, well you take care of yourself." It was the best she could do in the panic of the moment as she hung up the receiver saying goodbye. She ran a finger under her eye to wipe away the tears and gave Sam a half smile.
"She's fine." Ginger replied nonchalantly. She stood up from the telephone seat, avoiding eye contact and made her way over to the bar to pour herself a drink, brushing past Sam.
As she poured the drink, her back was to her husband. "Her meds aren't doing their job very well, by the sound of it."
"I don't know, whatever they give you for blood pressure and palpitations, how would I know? What's it matter?"
The slight snappiness was evident in her tone as she lit a cigarette and finally turned around, giving her eyes another sweep with her fingertips before she did.
Sam had spent years reading tells and Ginger's were always as obvious as tits on a bull. She wasn't telling him the truth. For starters, there was no way she would get so upset over her Mother not coping well with her medication, if she was even taking any.
"What difference does it make?" She couldn't help herself from getting agitated when she was cross questioned. Ginger walked away from the bar and towards the bedroom in an attempt to escape the conversation entirely.
"She called me." She cast him a glance as she passed him, shrugging her shoulders to suggest it wasn't important.
"You trusting me didn't last too long did it? Fine, go ahead and check it, undo everything we're trying to rebuild here." The hollered voice came from the bedroom, but she didn't come back, not even to the door.
This was her last chance, guilt him into believing her, guilt him into not checking the phone.
Nobody spoke to Ace Rothstein like this. Not even his Wife. He knew she was up to something and he had a fair guess what it might be.
Sam went to the phone that Ginger had just been talking on. Picking up the receiver, he cast a long and definite stare into the bedroom where he knew Ginger was, although she was silent and not in sight.
It was at that point where her comment hit home. Perhaps he should just trust her? Maybe it was the fear fo finding out that his suspicions were correct, but instead of finding out who had actually called, Sam slammed down the receiver and left the apartment. Back to work, back to something he could control.
Ginger burst into floods of tears as soon as she heard the elevator doors opening. She had no idea whether he'd checked the number or not. For all she knew, Sam was organizing for someone to pay a visit to Lester right now.
She knocked back the valium pills that were already in her hand with her Jack Daniels, and then went back to the bar to refill the glass. The bottle came back to the bedroom with her, and by the time she knocked herself out, the bottle was practically empty and she'd taken a couple of sleeping pills. It was gonna be the last time, she hadn't even said she'd give him the money, and now she'd probably fucked up everything.
He gestured to Ginger with a finger and thumb to both ear and mouth, miming the question "who's on the phone?"
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"Is she ok?" Sam sipped calmly from his glass of bourbon. "Are you ok?" He stood and waited for her response.
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As she poured the drink, her back was to her husband. "Her meds aren't doing their job very well, by the sound of it."
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"What has her Doctor prescribed for her these days?" He sipped again at his drink. talking to the back of Ginger's head.
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The slight snappiness was evident in her tone as she lit a cigarette and finally turned around, giving her eyes another sweep with her fingertips before she did.
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"Did you call her or did she call you?"
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"She called me." She cast him a glance as she passed him, shrugging her shoulders to suggest it wasn't important.
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"So if I call the last number that dialled here, it would be your Mother? Is that right?"
He wasn't sure if he'd even get a response.
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This was her last chance, guilt him into believing her, guilt him into not checking the phone.
Reply
Sam went to the phone that Ginger had just been talking on. Picking up the receiver, he cast a long and definite stare into the bedroom where he knew Ginger was, although she was silent and not in sight.
It was at that point where her comment hit home. Perhaps he should just trust her? Maybe it was the fear fo finding out that his suspicions were correct, but instead of finding out who had actually called, Sam slammed down the receiver and left the apartment. Back to work, back to something he could control.
Reply
She knocked back the valium pills that were already in her hand with her Jack Daniels, and then went back to the bar to refill the glass. The bottle came back to the bedroom with her, and by the time she knocked herself out, the bottle was practically empty and she'd taken a couple of sleeping pills. It was gonna be the last time, she hadn't even said she'd give him the money, and now she'd probably fucked up everything.
Reply
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