"The hangover from wine coolers is brutal." "I won't she reassured, and then she slid herself close to me resting her head on my outstretched arm. "Di... you call me dad when we were at home?" I asked. She didn't say anything, and looked like she was embarrassed. "I don't mind." I said. "You've just never called me that is all. It took me by surprise." She looked at me. "I want to call you dad. You've been more of a dad to me in the last six months than anyone has my whole life." She leaned her. The doors were frosted glass with an insignia cut into them. They also opened as I approached and I found myself in a typical hotel lobby.The doors clicked closed behind me, shutting out the cold of the entrance chamber, and I took a moment to glance about me. All the usual trimmings were in place: potted plants, sofas with coffee tables, hard-wearing carpet, occasional harsh little halogen spotlights and in front of me a deeply polished reception desk of dark mahogany.The receptionist greeted. More

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