Amaryllis

Chapter 11

"Are all prisms this stubborn?" Lucas deactivated the leer's engine with an impatient twist of his hand. He studied the lights of the casino on the other side of the street. "Or is this just the result of a small-town upbringing?"

"I don't know about other prisms," Amaryllis said. "And I won't presume to speak for all small-town residents. I insisted on coming with you tonight because you might need me. We're partners, remember? You said it yourself."

Lucas turned his head briefly. Derision gleamed in his eyes. "I'm not likely to need a prism to get Dillon out of hock. All it will require is money. I wonder how much the young fool lost to Nick Chastain."

Amaryllis chose to rise above Lucas's obvious irritation. The argument had been running since Dillon Rye's phone call had interrupted Lucas's grotto illusion twenty minutes earlier. When she had discovered what was going on, Amaryllis had insisted on accompanying Lucas on his mission to rescue Dillon.

She leaned forward in the seat to peer at the brilliantly lit entrance of Chastain's Palace. The drizzling rain blurred the colors of the jelly-ice lights, converting them into gaudy liquid jewels. The casino was not the biggest gambling club on the strip, but even Amaryllis had heard of it. She knew it had a certain cachet with the city's swank set. It also had a reputation for big-stakes play that attracted high rollers from the other city-states.

"Do you know this Nick Chastain person?" asked Amaryllis.

"Let's just say that Chastain and I have a few things in common." Lucas opened the door and got out. He seemed oblivious to the light rain.

Amaryllis opened her own door before Lucas could circle the leer to assist her. She jumped out, tugging at the hood of her raincoat. "Why did Dillon call you? Why didn't he call his father?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I suspect that Dillon doesn't want his parents to know that he got himself into this mess."

Amaryllis nodded. "They probably wouldn't approve of his gambling."

"That's one factor." Lucas took her arm and waited for a break in the clogged traffic. "The other is that they probably wouldn't approve of what he intended to do with his winnings."

"What did he plan to do with them?"

"Invest in some featherbrained scheme to locate fire crystal." Lucas tightened his grip on her arm and drew her swiftly across the busy street.

The revolving glass doors of Chastain's Palace were in constant motion. A steady stream of well-dressed people came and went. Some were laughing. Several were not. A few had the grim, glittering look of desperation in their eyes. Many appeared to be at least partially inebriated.

Two polite but hard-eyed looking individuals kept an eye on the crowd that milled around the entrance of the casino. One guard was male, the other female. Both wore formal evening clothes that did nothing to conceal their sturdy, muscled torsos.

Lucas and Amaryllis gained the sidewalk and started to make their way toward the casino doors. A gaunt, long- haired figure dressed in a long, flowing black tunic loomed in their path. He took one look at Lucas and appeared to come to the conclusion that there was no hope in that direction. He chose to thrust his sign directly in front of Amaryllis. The message was written in large, crude, hand-drawn letters. It was simple and direct.

WILL YOU BE READY WHEN THE CURTAIN RISES AGAIN?

"Excuse me." Amaryllis made to step around the long-haired man.

"The curtain will rise sooner than you think, woman." There was a feverish excitement in the man's eyes. "Will you be ready for the return to Earth? Will you be clean enough in body and mind to return to the Utopia that awaits?"

"Please let me pass, I'm in a hurry." Most people were rude and impatient whenever they were confronted by a Return cult fanatic. Force of habit made Amaryllis more polite than many, but sometimes the persistence of the cult members tried even her patience.

"The curtain will be forever closed to those who fall into the five hells of sin. Think about your future, woman. Only the pure of heart shall return to Earth."

"I appreciate your point of view," Amaryllis said, "but there is no indication that the curtain had any religious or supernatural aspects. It was a natural phenomenon of some sort. An energy construct that appeared and then disappeared."

"It was designed by the superior beings of the home planet as a test for those of us sent to St. Helens," the fanatic screamed.

"If you would simply study the subject from a synergistically scientific viewpoint--" Amaryllis broke off as Lucas drew her firmly around the grimy, black-robed man.

"There's no point talking to those people." He pushed her gently through the casino doors. "It's a waste of breath."

"I know. But sometimes I just can't help myself. Those Return cults do a lot of harm. I have a friend whose brother got caught up in one for a while. He turned his back on his family and his education to walk the streets carrying one of those ridiculous signs. Fortunately, he eventually came to his senses but it was a very near thing."

"You can't save everyone, Amaryllis."

She glanced at him. "You should talk. What, exactly, are we doing here tonight?"

"Damned if I know," Lucas muttered.

"The Ryes are the closest thing you've got to family, aren't they?"

"I can promise you that they don't see it that way."

There was no bitterness in his words, Amaryllis realized. Just a bone-deep acceptance. Jackson Rye had once been Lucas's friend and partner. In spite of all that had happened, Lucas still honored the old ties. That was why he was here tonight.

The casino appeared to have been designed by an interior decorator who had been torn between decadence and out-right garishness. Amaryllis noted a great deal of green velvet and a lot of gold tassels. The ceiling was mirrored and so were all of the walls. The effect was confusing to the eye.

"It's like walking into a fantasy," she muttered to Lucas.

"That's the whole point."

The subdued clang and clatter of various types of gambling machines created a background noise that infused the crowded room with a sense of frenetic energy. Beautifully dressed people hovered around card tables presided over by elegantly dressed croupiers. Gold-suited servers carrying trays of glasses circulated through the room.

"This way." Lucas guided Amaryllis around the perimeter of the gaming floor.

They walked past more large guards with polite smiles and cold eyes. At the end of a mirrored corridor, they found themselves in a quiet passageway. A man stepped forward.

"Mr. Trent?"

"Tell Chastain I'm here."

The guard glanced at Amaryllis. "We were told that you would come alone, sir."

"As you can see, I didn't. Miss Lark is a friend. If Chastain can't deal with that, you can tell him for me that it's time he visited a syn-shrink. He's definitely getting paranoid."

The guard hesitated. Then he nodded once. "This way, sir. Ma'am."

Lucas and Amaryllis were ushered into a chamber that was thickly suffused with crimson, gold, and black. A small group of people were clustered near a massive carved and gilded desk.

Amaryllis glanced around quickly and tried not to let her disapproval show. Taste was a personal thing, she reminded herself. But there was no getting around the fact that if the casino designer had been torn between decadence and garishness elsewhere, in this room he or she had definitely gone for full-blown tacky.

Heavy red velvet curtains covered the windows. Ornate pillars framed the walls. The furnishings were all gleaming black lacquer and crimson velvet. The red, gold, and black carpet was so thick, Amaryllis was afraid she would trip on it.

"Lucas." Dillon Rye leaped to his feet. He looked very relieved and not a little embarrassed. "I am really glad to see you. I'm sorry about this. I couldn't think of anything else to do."

"Hello, Dillon." Lucas met the eyes of the man seated in regal splendor behind the desk. "Chastain. It's been a while."

"Good evening, Trent." Nick Chastain's smile was cool. His emotionless eyes flickered toward Amaryllis. "You must be Miss Lark. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Amaryllis nodded brusquely. "Mr. Chastain."

She decided that she did not like Nick Chastain. He was a lean, cold-eyed man who looked to be about the same age as Lucas. He gave the impression that he was a good deal more dangerous than any of the hired muscle who worked for him.

"What do you think of my decor, Miss Lark?"

"It's unusual," Amaryllis said cautiously.

"Presumably that is a polite euphemism for tasteless, outrageous, and gaudy. Thank you. I supervised the interior design myself." Chastain's eyes gleamed. "You must admit that it's a step above Trent's monstrosity of a house."

"Lucas's home is virtually an historical landmark," Amaryllis retorted sharply. "It's a splendid example of the Early Explorations Period. It reflects the exuberant style and vitality of the era. There is no way it can be called tacky. It's beautiful."

Lucas raised one brow but said nothing.

Nick looked at him. "She's either in love with you or she has very bad taste."

Amaryllis blushed furiously. "You, Mr. Chastain, have exceptionally bad manners."

Nick smiled briefly. He kept his attention on Lucas. "I'm a little surprised to see you here, Trent. I expected young Dillon to call his father."

"Disappointed?" Lucas asked dryly.

"Somewhat," Nick admitted.

Amaryllis glowered at Nick. "Lucas is a friend of the family. He has every right to deal with this unpleasant situation."

Dillon's eyes flickered nervously from Lucas to Nick. "I don't get it. Why do you care who gives me the money to make good on my debt, Mr. Chastain?"

It was Lucas who answered. "Chastain prefers to take his money from people who consider themselves his social superiors. He gets a great deal of satisfaction from the fine art of putting very important people in his debt, don't you, Nick?"

Nick shrugged. "I'll admit it's a good deal more amusing than taking your money, Trent. You've never tried to pretend that you were anything but what you are, a man without family or background, just as I am. Everything you have today you earned the hard way. The Ryes, on the other hand, have always traded heavily on their family's position and connections. They prefer not to deal with our sort. Unless, of course, it's financially rewarding."

"Now wait just a damn minute here," Dillon said in heated tones. "I resent that comment. Lucas is my friend. He was my brother's partner. He's practically a member of the family."

"Whatever kinship your family felt toward Trent ended the day your brother died," Nick said flatly.

"That's not true," Dillon protested.

Nick ignored him. He looked at Lucas with a malevolent gleam in his cold eyes. "I must admit, it would have been rather pleasant to watch Calvin Rye stand in front of me and try to hold his nose while he wrote out a check."

"My money spends just as well as Rye's does," Lucas said.

"True. And I do have a great fondness for money, regardless of the source." Nick spread his hands. "I shall be happy to take yours. But tell me, why are you bothering with Dillon's small financial problem? We both know that you don't owe the Ryes a damn thing."

"Let's just say it's for old times' sake." Lucas glanced at Dillon. "How much?"

Dillon swallowed. "Uh, sixty-five thousand."

Amaryllis was aghast. She turned on Dillon. "Sixty-five thousand? You just gambled away sixty-five thousand dollars in this casino? How could you do such a foolish thing? No wonder you called Lucas. I can just imagine what your folks would say if they learned of this nonsense. Where's your sense of family honor and responsibility?"

Nick gave a crack of laughter.

Dillon turned red.

Lucas pulled his checkbook from an inside pocket of his jacket. "Amaryllis has strong opinions on some things."

"Yes, she does, doesn't she?" Nick's grin held a hint of genuine amusement. "A regular little paragon of founders' virtues. I heard you were shopping for a wife, Trent. Is Miss Lark a candidate from a marriage agency?"

"That isn't any of your business, Chastain." Lucas scrawled his name on the check. "Here's your money. Where are Dillon's vouchers?"

Nick nodded to one of the silent men who hovered nearby. "Give Trent the vouchers. The debt has been paid in full."

Without a word, the vouchers were handed to Lucas. He pocketed them without comment and turned to Dillon.

"Let's go," Lucas said.

Dillon was already heading for the door. "You bet."

"A poor choice of words," Amaryllis said in frosty tones.

Dillon winced. "Yeah, I guess so."

Lucas started to follow Amaryllis and Dillon through the door.

"Trent?" Nick called softly.

Lucas glanced back over his shoulders. "What now, Chastain?"

"Take my advice and marry Miss Lark. Something tells me she's a good match for you."

Amaryllis felt rather than saw Lucas grow very still. The dangerous tension in him flowed through the room.

"Since when did you take up marriage counseling, Chastain?" Lucas asked.

Nick gave him a smile that would have done credit to a fallen angel. "In my business you learn a great deal about synergistic psychology."

Lucas did not hang around to argue. He went through the door, caught hold of Amaryllis's arm, and escorted his small party out of the casino.

"Where on St. Helens did you meet that dreadful man?" Amaryllis demanded as they walked toward the car.

"Chastain's okay so long as you play straight with him. I met him in the islands. He set up his first casino in Port LeConner. He was there when the pirates made their move."

Dillon glanced at him with sudden interest. "Chastain was in the Western Islands Action?"

"Yes."

Dillon whistled softly. "I never heard his name mentioned on the news."

"He doesn't like publicity of that kind," Lucas said.

"He certainly has deplorable taste," Amaryllis observed. "It's almost too awful to be real. I think he actually enjoys offending people."

"I think you're right," Lucas said.

"Okay, so I panicked." Dillon slumped in the old- fashioned wire-root chair in Lucas's big kitchen. His hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his trousers. "I'm sorry, Lucas. I couldn't call Dad. You know how he feels about gambling. I didn't know what else to do except phone you."

Lucas poured coff-tea into two mugs. "You actually thought that you could win the stake you need to invest in your friend's fire crystal project?"

"After you refused to give me a loan, I figured it was the only way I could get my hands on that kind of money."

"Dillon, you know the odds are always in favor of the house."

"Chastain's place is supposed to be honest."

"It is. Why should Chastain bother running it in a dishonest manner when the odds are already on his side?"

Dillon's expression turned mutinous. "I was winning for a while."

"Everyone wins for a while. Too bad you didn't stop while you were ahead." Lucas carried the mugs to the table and put one down in front of Dillon.

It was well after midnight. Amaryllis was home, safely tucked up in her own bed. Lucas would have given a great deal to be there with her, but he had resigned himself to the task of dealing with Dillon's problems. Tonight it had become clear that Jackson's younger brother was deter- mined to get himself into trouble. Someone had to do something.

"Go ahead and lecture me," Dillon muttered. "I deserve it."

"Then I won't waste my breath." Lucas sipped coff-tea.

"It's going to take me a long time to pay you back, you know. I haven't even got a job at the moment."

"I'll wait."

Dillon shoved his fingers through his hair in a gesture that reminded Lucas of Jackson. "Damn, what a mess. If Morn and Dad ever find out about what happened tonight, they'll never let me forget it. It will reinforce their conviction that I can't handle responsibility."

Lucas said nothing.

There was a long silence while Dillon reflected on his options. "I could pay you off if I went to work for you," he finally said tentatively.

"Yes."

"But we both know Morn and Dad would never go for it."

"Probably not."

Dillon met his eyes. "Are you going to tell Dad about the sixty-five grand I owe you?"

"No."

"How long will you give me to pay you back?"

"As long as it takes."

"You really mean that, don't you? Most guys in your position would go to my father and demand that he pay my debt."

"You're old enough to handle your own debts."

"My father wouldn't agree with you. And I sure didn't do a very good job handling them tonight, did I?" Dillon's mouth tightened with determination. "I will pay you back, you know. One way or another."

"Okay." Lucas smiled faintly. "But do me a favor. Keep it legal. And stay out of casinos."

Dillon groaned. "That doesn't leave me with a lot of choices."

Amaryllis regarded Irene Dunley across the width of the restaurant table. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me for lunch. I know it isn't easy for you to get away from the department."

"I took a short lunch hour earlier this week," Irene said. "Professor Yamamoto said it would be all right for me to take a long one today. She believes the rules of office behavior should be relaxed on Fridays, anyway. Professor Landreth would never have approved, but that's the way things are now."

"I appreciate it." Amaryllis glanced at the menu in front of her, not really seeing the selections. Her attention was on the questions she intended to ask Irene.

The restaurant was crowded with downtown shoppers and businesspeople. Amaryllis had deliberately chosen it because it was located a long way from the campus.

"What did you want to see me about, Miss Lark?" Irene looked apprehensive. "Is it something to do with Professor Landreth?"

"Yes." Amaryllis impulsively reached across the table to touch Irene's hand. "Please tell me the truth. Were you the one who called me the other night to tell me I should talk to Vivien of the Veils at the SynCity Club about Professor Landreth?"

Irene's eyes widened in stunned dismay. "You knew it was me?"

"Not at the time. But during the past several days I've had a lot of time to think about it." There was no point mentioning Gifford's name. That would only further upset Irene. "You knew Professor Landreth had a standing appointment with Vivien, didn't you?"

Tears glittered in Irene's eyes. She dabbed at them with her napkin. "He went to see her once a week. I still can't imagine why. He never associated with people of her sort. I sometimes wonder if she used some form of diabolical talent to hold him in thrall. Do you think that's possible, Miss Lark?"

Irene's pain was so evident that Amaryllis could not bring herself to deny such an improbable explanation. "Maybe," she hedged.

"It's the only reason that makes sense. Professor Landreth was such a fine man in other respects. A true gentleman."

"Oddly enough, that's just what Vivien said."

Irene appeared not to have heard her. "He was such an upright, upstanding man. He personified the best in founders' values."

"We seem to be hearing a lot about founders' values these days."

"Thanks to that wonderful Senator Sheffield." Irene put down her napkin. A resolute expression replaced the tears in her eyes. "We're so fortunate to have a candidate of his stature running for office. He's a man of purpose and vision. He'll put this city-state back on the right path. I only wish that Professor Landreth could have lived to see Sheffield take the governor's office and perhaps, in time, become president of the United City-States. I know the professor would have approved."

"Irene, why did you send me to talk to Vivien?"

Irene's gaze was clear and purposeful. "Because I have begun to wonder about the circumstances surrounding the professor's death. The more I think about it, the more questions arise. I knew the police had closed the case. I knew that no one else cared if there had been foul play. I didn't know what to do until you showed up at the office a few days ago. It was as if I had been given a sign."

"You knew that I would care if there was something suspicious about his death, didn't you?"

"You were the only other person besides myself who could be counted on to pursue the matter. I'm just an aging secretary. I didn't have the vaguest idea of how to approach the situation. But you are so clever. Miss Lark. Professor Landreth often talked about how intelligent you are. How determined and persistent. I thought that if anyone could get answers, it would be you."

"So you sent me to Vivien."

"Yes." Irene sighed. "I was too much of a coward to go see her myself. I wouldn't have known how to approach a woman of that sort. But I did think she might know something. Professor Landreth's acquaintance with her was obviously of a very intimate nature, after all. There's no telling what secrets he shared with her."

"Did you know that on the day he died. Professor Landreth had made an appointment to see Gifford Osterley?"

"Osterley? Irene's thin lips parted in brief astonishment. "Highly unlikely. Professor Landreth and Gifford Osterley were not on good terms."

"Did you check the last entries in the professor's calendar when you packed up his desk?"

"No. To tell you the truth, I was crying so hard that day, I could hardly see what I was doing. I couldn't bear to look at his calendar. All those perfectly normal, routine appointments that he would never again keep. It was too much."

"Can you think of any reason why Professor Landreth would have made an appointment with Gifford?"

"No." Irene's face crumpled. "But, then, I can't think of any reason why he would patronize a cheap syn-sex stripper, either." She blew her nose and then frowned at Amaryllis. "How did you discover that the professor had an appointment with Gifford Osterley?"

"I've got a confession to make." Amaryllis flushed and looked down at the table. She must not drag Lucas's name into this. "I went into your office the night before the boxes were to be taken away. I found the carton that had Landreth's desk calendar in it. I looked at the last entries. I know it wasn't right, but I couldn't think of anything else to do."

An odd silence fell on the table. When Amaryllis looked up, she saw that Irene was gazing at her with a strange expression on her face.

"Oh dear," Irene said.

"What is it? Have I shocked you? I didn't take anything. Honest."

"You swear it?"

Amaryllis lifted her chin. "On my honor as a Lark."

"I believe you. But it only makes things more confusing."

"What do you mean?"

"I have something to confess, too," Irene said slowly. "When I discovered that the files were to be removed, I got very uneasy. I'm a limited-spectrum prism, you know. Not much power, but a bit of intuition. Do you recall how Professor Landreth always kept a special file for his current projects?"

"I remember. He called it his hot file. What about it?"

"Just before the movers showed up to take away the boxes, I did something very impulsive. I searched the cartons for that file."

"Did you find it?"

"No." Irene's gaze was stark. "The file was missing from its box. Someone else had already taken it."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lucas." Gifford Osterley beamed with unctuous enthusiasm as he took the chair in front of Lucas's desk. "I've admired you for years. Your company's performance is a tribute to your intelligence, skill, and determination. A model for corporate success."

Lucas regarded Gifford with perverse curiosity. This was the man Amaryllis had once considered as a possible candidate for marriage, yet she had never made Osterley her lover. Picky, picky, picky.

"Why did you ask to see me?" Lucas asked.

Gifford cleared his throat with an important air. He opened a black leather briefcase that contrasted nicely with his silver gray suit. "It has recently come to my attention that you occasionally have the need for the services of a full- spectrum prism. My firm. Unique Prisms, specializes in providing highly trained prisms to talents in positions such as yours."

"I use another firm."

"Yes, I know. Psynergy, Inc. But I can assure you, sir, that Unique Prisms can offer all of the services Psynergy, Inc. offers and much more."

"What more is there to offer?"

"Discretion, Mr. Trent." Gifford gave him a knowing look. "Absolute discretion."

"Psynergy, Inc. offers discretion and confidentiality."

"Ah, but their services cannot begin to compare with ours. For example, we do not even require a talent certification from our clients. No need to be tested first in order to use our services. Our prisms can all handle class-nine and even class-ten talents, so there is no danger of a mismatch."

"Psynergy, Inc. has provided me with a full-spectrum prism."

"That would be Amaryllis Lark." Gifford winked. "For- give me, Mr. Trent, but I know Miss Lark very well. And while I would be the first to admit that she is a powerful, well-trained prism, I must point out that she is inclined to be a bit, shall we say, conventional."

"Your prisms aren't so conventional?"

"Mine are creative rather than conventional." Gifford chuckled. "I can assure you that none of my prisms are burdened with Miss Lark's somewhat limited concept of what constitutes proper, ethical focusing. My people under- stand that the client is always right."

"I see."

"We respect our clients' right to determine how, when, and where to use their talents. We do not attempt to impose someone else's standards on what is essentially a private decision. Do I make myself clear, Lucas?"

"Very clear. Now you can leave. I have a lot of untalented work to do today."

A small furrow appeared in Gifford's forehead. "Perhaps you don't understand just what I'm offering. Surely you want the freedom to use your own personal talent in any way you see fit without worrying about the restrictions of some prissy little ex-academic who thinks she has the right to determine ethical guidelines for you."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Osterley. Lately I've begun to discover that virtue has its own rewards."

"Lucas, it's Amaryllis."

Lucas leaned back in his chair and grinned into the phone. "Strangely enough, I recognized your voice."

"Oh. Well, I've got some interesting news. Irene Dunley also went through those boxes containing Professor Landreth's things."

Lucas stopped grinning. "Landreth's secretary searched them?"

"Right. She also admitted that she's the one who sent me to Vivien."

"Five hells."

"Apparently she's been suspicious of the way Landreth died ever since the accident happened. But she didn't know what to do. Anyhow, when I showed up at the department and started asking questions about a case of unethical focusing, she got the idea of involving me in the questions surrounding the professor's death."

"Amaryllis, there aren't any questions."

"Then she decided to search those boxes in her office."

"Why?" Lucas demanded.

"She was looking for Landreth's special hot file."

"Hot file?"

"Yes. It was his habit to keep one, and she distinctly recalls packing it after he died. But get this. The file was missing, Lucas."

He did not like the excitement he heard in her voice. "Amaryllis--"

"Don't you think that the missing file is a strong indication that Professor Landreth might have been murdered because of something in that file?"

"No."

She ignored that in a headlong leap to her conclusions. "Maybe someone pushed him off that cliff and then searched his files to remove the evidence that could have linked the killer to his victim."

"Why would this so-called killer bother to search the boxes? The police considered Landreth's death an accident right from the start."

"Yes, but the killer may have wanted to play it safe. Maybe he took the file just to be certain that no one ever found it. It all makes sense."

Lucas groaned. "No, it doesn't. Amaryllis, think about it. You only have Irene Dunley's word that the file is missing. It could simply have been misplaced. From what you've told me, she was very upset by Landreth's death. She may not have been thinking clearly when she packed up his things."

There was a short pause while Amaryllis digested that. "She did say she was crying so hard that day that she didn't even notice Gifford's name on Landreth's desk calendar. I suppose she might not have a clear memory of where she put the hot file. But, Lucas--"

"Let's talk about it later." Lucas glanced at his watch. "I've got a few things to finish here. It's Friday and I feel like leaving the office early. I can pick you up around six. How does that sound?"

"Impossible, I'm afraid. My aunt and uncle are in town. Don't you remember? I told you that I'd be cooking dinner for them at my place tonight."

"I see." Lucas reminded himself that he had no reason to expect an invitation to a family dinner. He didn't even want one. After all, he wasn't a real matrimonial candidate, just Amaryllis's lover. Here in the city no one took much notice of an affair, but things were different in the country. A small-town farmer and his wife were hardly likely to approve of Lucas's relationship with their precious niece. Amaryllis would be well aware of that. She wouldn't want Lucas there, either. She was very keen on not embarrassing her family.

"Would you like to join us?" Amaryllis asked.

"What time?"

"Six?"

"I'll be there."

No doubt the evening was going to be a big mistake, Lucas thought as he hung up the phone. But he didn't really have much to lose. After all, the entire relationship was a mistake.