he swirls the scotch in his glass , creating a small whirlpool . before he could say anything else , if he would , i put down the phone , and it did n't ring again . the knot in his gut remained . he pulls me deeper into the crowd , which parts for us . our lives are on the line . in her low-heeled shoes she stood eye to eye with him . he was about to write off the guy , but then met his steel-gray eyes . 