Professor Monroe laughed as if he thought Ketch was kidding. “Great. We’ll talk more Monday, about ten.”

The phone went dead, but Ketch didn’t move. He just stared at the closed bathroom door and wondered what he was doing with the barmaid in his room. He wasn’t sure what had happened. He didn’t remember a fight, but his body felt beat up. His boots and jeans were off, but his underwear was still on. She’d been sitting up when he woke and looked to be fully dressed.

Ketch had a blurry memory of falling. Once, maybe twice. No memory of having sex. If that had happened, it had been so long since he’d hooked up, no amount of alcohol could have erased that memory.

He did recall seeing Tuesday at the bar last night. He’d danced with a blonde once while he was counting down bottles of beer. He thought he remembered leaning on someone as he walked home. It had to have been the girl in the bathroom. The blood on her shirt was probably his. But she was small. She couldn’t have held him if he passed out.

She opened the door, her hair was combed and her face damp. Without looking at him, she circled the room, picking up her shoes.

“I don’t do one-night stands,” he said as his foggy brain tried to put pieces of last night together.

“Neither do I, mister.”

He’d heard rumors and doubted her story, but then he didn’t have a story to remember. He took a stab at what had happened. “You brought me home last night, right?” Looking down at all the Band-Aids on his leg, he added, “And doctored me.”

“Right, mister.” She sat on the corner of the bed and tied her tennis shoes. Her voice sounded cold, and she was acting like she wanted to get out before he yelled at her.

The “mister” was starting to bother him. Like she thought him old or maybe she didn’t know his name.

“My name’s Ketch Kincaid.” His head was pounding now.

“I know. I heard your friend call you that.” Still not interested in talking.

“I’m in my last semester of college and I work for the construction company below us. I don’t usually drink. I was just in a really bad mood. I got dumped.” Too much information, he decided.

“I don’t really care.” She stood to leave. “Look, Ketch Kincaid, nothing happened between us last night. Not that anyone will believe it. Say whatever you want. I’m beyond being hurt by rumors.”

It seemed to be storming in his brain as well as beyond the windows. She was mad for some reason, and he wanted to throw up. “If nothing happened, how come you spent the night?”