Cruz had a very hard time falling asleep that night—partly because of his afternoon naps, partly because of the upsetting news at dinner. He spent several hours on the back terrace, drinking beer and eating pretzels—there was no more Babycham.
When the beer finally made him sleepy enough to retire, Cruz staggered back to his room thinking: well, so much for my fitness and weight-loss plan.
He woke up late with a cracking hangover. He spent an hour recuperating in the mini-lounge: the fridge there was getting dangerously empty. Then he spent another hour in the bath. The booze Cruz had drunk as medicine made him flippant, and at one point he waggled his soaped dick at the not-so-well-hidden camera and said:
"Hello."
