Amuse Bouche (18 page)

It was after nine-thirty and by the noise floating into the foyer from spaces beyond it was obvious the party was in full swing. 1 spent a minute in the relative calm of the entrance eval-uating the artwork and colour of the walls.

Nice. I studied the clothesline of halogens and wondered if Betsy would ever leave the foyer long enough for me to make a break for it. I hate parties. No. That's not entirely true. I enjoy parties once I'm in the throes, drink in hand and safe in the company of someone I know. So I guess what I hate is entering parties. When I throw a party I fear no one will come. When I attend a party I fear I'll find no one to talk to.

Neither has ever happened as far as I can recall.

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I poked my nose around a wall and surveyed the crowd milling about the living room. I could hardly see beyond the well-dressed throng to the incredible view outside the wraparound windows. This won't be too bad, I thought.

Really big parties are okay. Even if you don't know anybody, who's going to notice? And, the best part, you can usually leave without causing a stir. The worst are medium-sized parties where everyone notices when you come in and when you leave. Probably because the party is so boring they have nothing else to do.

"Oh for chrissakes!" A woman's voice.

I could feel my protective jacket being yanked from my shoulders. I swirled around and saw Sereena. Although I'd been with her only a short time ago, she had given me absolutely no hint that she too would be attending this party. As far as I knew, she was staying at home to eat ice cream and watch a Bogart movie. Fat chance.

I looked at Sereena in mock anger and made an unattractive noise in protest over losing my jacket. Sereena's hair was piled luxuriantly on top of her head, stray tendrils trailing down around her face. She wore a near-transparent turquoise shift held up by invisible fishing wire straps. She was a box of dynamite. And I could see in her flashing eyes that she might explode 202

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if I insisted on keeping my coat. Without another word she turned on impressive stilettos and ferried my leather away.

"Nice ass, Quant. Is it getting bigger?"

Another woman's voice.

Again I swirled around. I was getting dizzy.

It was Errall. Tall, dark, intense, with features so sharp they could cut ice. Errall Strane is almost six feet tall with shiny, chestnut hair, flawless skin and eyes so blindingly blue it almost hurts to look at them too long. She is smart, driven, quick-witted and a workaholic. She and Kelly have been together for seven years. Kelly is my friend—Errall is someone who sleeps with my friend. At least that's how our relationship began and remained for quite some time. Errall and I see the world in different ways. This leads to quarrels and nasty looks. But now I find her interesting and often helpful to talk to. To use a weird analogy, Kelly is my comfortable pair of ten-year-old loafers that slip on with ease, Errall is the spit-and-polished, shiny, black, lace-up Oxfords that click when I walk and feel a little tight around the instep. I prefer the loafers, but sometimes nothing will do but a pair of Oxfords.

"Don't get me going on these clothes. From gatt." I grabbed the wineglass in her hand and took a healthy sip of a woodsy Merlot.

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She cocked one of her well-shaped black eyebrows and extended a fluttering palm towards my sweater. "It works, Russell. I never knew you had definition. Look at those triceps!"

"Stop it!" I brushed away her hand and sur-reptitiously glanced at my arm. "You look terrific tonight, as usual," I told her, Errall wore something silver, sleek, sleeveless and high-necked.

She leaned in close and whispered, "Makeup dyke."

I chuckled. She wasn't a particularly with-it dyke. "I think they're called lipstick lesbians."

"Yeah, whatever." She was already busy surveying the room. Looking for potential clients to schmooze no doubt.

"Where's your better half?" Actually I consider Kelly her better three-quarters but decided to keep that to myself.

"Let me take you to her," Errall said, weaving a long, thin arm through mine with the impressive triceps. "I think I saw her with Jared, hiding in some corner, pretending they hate parries."

On the way we helped ourselves to more wine off a passing tray and Errall greeted a few thousand of her closest friends and business acquaintances. I thought I recognized one of the waiters. Indeed we found Kelly and Jared laughing about something in a dim corner, six 204

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shooter glasses sitting empty nearby.

Errall shot her lover a look. "I guess we're taking a cab home tonight?"

Kelly ignored the comment and rushed over to give me a welcoming hug.

Next came Jared. I embraced him and, as always, marvelled at the existence of something so beautiful. His precise facial features appear sharp from a distance but are softened on close inspection by the sheen of his impeccable olive skin. His hair, a mass of loose and boyishly unkempt curls, has a unique copper tint that sets his golden green eyes ablaze. But despite the incredible wrapping paper and corny as it might sound, Jared's heart, deep within his muscular chest is his most attractive feature.

For years I have suspected the worst: that I am in love with him.

But I've never allowed myself to discover the truth.

At different times since I'd first met Jared, I toyed with the idea of telling Anthony If for no other reason but to alleviate the weirdness I feel when the three of us are together. Somehow I thought it might make it easier if Anthony knew and absolved me of all guilt. He is a pretty understanding guy in mat way. In my less generous moments I've wondered if Anthony might not just give mc Jared like he would a Amuse Bouche

sweater I've fawned over. I know Anthony loves Jared. But he also loves his sapphire pinky ring and beaching in Minorca.

"When did you get back?" I asked as I pulled back from our hug and we exchanged smiles.

Suddenly 1 found myself flexing and sucking in and sticking out the different parts of my body brazenly shown off by my new duds, wondering if Jared would notice. Bad, bad, bad boy!

"Just a couple of hours ago,"' he told me, his skin still aglow from whatever sun-drenched location he' d arrived from. "I'm glad to see you.

You look great."

"Oh, yeah," I said with little conviction. "What are you two up to?"

"Kelly and I were just planning a little dinner party for next month. We need an event more low-key than this where we can actually talk and visit without a million people hanging around."

"I want to catch Councillor Manning before he leaves," Errall said as she extricated herself from the group. "Don't you three hide out here all night." I saw her and Kelly exchange winks before she strode off

"That's a great idea," I said. "Count me in."

"Great," Kelly said, "because it's at your place. And you're cooking. And providing the booze. And entertainment."

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"Tell me again what you two contribute to this whole thing?"

Kelly beamed, slightly intoxicated. "Planning expertise."

"I think I want to be part of the planning committee. Jared, you around for a bit this time?"

"Unfortunately no. I'm out of here on Monday."

"Where to now?" I liked the fact that I always had to ask. Jared was not one to volun-teer details about his glamorous life without some goading.

"Actually, New York for a bit. There's a lot going on there right now. How about you? You on a case? Kelly was telling me you just got back from France. You're getting to be quite the international spy, Mr. Bond."

I aimed a light punch at his mighty biceps.

"Someone has to keep the world safe from the domination of evil in all its horrific forms!"

Kelly scrunched up her doll-like face and nudged her body into Jared's. "I think we need another drink before we hear any more of this."

Jared agreed with a grin and nod. "Anthony has been looking for you."

"We've been telling him you were in the bathroom with a waiter for the past hour,"

Kelly joked.

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I gave her a sour look. "Which one?"

"The one off the kitchen."

She and Jared broke into gales of laughter.

The kind that was heavily inspired by alcohol.

"Ha, ha. I meant which waiter, not which bathroom." I felt I needed to explain.

"All of them." More laughter.

I stepped away in mock disgust. "I think I'll go find Anthony now. I've decided I don't like this conversation."

"Come back soon!" Jared called as I rejoined the salmon run upstream.

"Send over a waiter!" Kelly shouted, holding up her empty glass. "If you can spare one!"

I spent the next few minutes circulating the room without seeing another person I knew. I ate snacks off silver trays and drank another glass of wine. I was considering making an unobserved exit when I finally caught sight of my host. Anthony saw me at the same time and we slowly headed towards one another. I covered more distance than he did because constant interruptions from party guests delayed his progress.

"I love the toggery!" Anthony said to me as he placed an arm warmly about my shoulders.

"What taste! What style! What an unerring eye 208

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for what's now and what's wow!"

I smirked. "Anthony, you picked out the clothes."

"Ohmygosh!" He feigned surprise like a pro.

"You're right! I'm so embarrassed to have gone on like that!"

"You're just pissed off more people didn't hear."

"They will before they leave," he said with a mischievous smile. "Make sure you circle the room a few times so everyone can get a good look. I'm so glad you made it. Are you having fun? Did you see Jared? Have you eaten?"

I was about to tell him what a droll party it was and that I was off to find something better to do when I caught sight of a familiar face over Anthony's shoulder. "What is she doing here?"

Anthony turned his head ever so slightly.

"Of whom are we speaking?"

"Next to the bar," I said, "wearing the red disco dress and Adrienne Barbeau hair."

Anthony considered the woman. "I believe she came in with Randy's group."

"Randy Wurz?"

"Yes. QW Technologies, as well as Randy and his wife personally, are big donors to the theatre."

I couldn't believe my luck, "is Randy Wurz here?"

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Anthony nodded and eyed me carefully. "Yes.

I suppose you'll be wanting an introduction?"

"Could I get my coat back first?"

Without another word, he directed me by the elbow across the room to a small group of four men hurriedly discussing business before their wives caught them. Randy Wurz was not quite six feet tall with an average build, light sandy hair, green eyes and a small but noticeable mole on his jaw. He looked like a man who took care of himself and was particular about his appearance. He had an expensive and precise haircut, wore a pricey, conservative suit with matching belt and shoes and glistening cuff-links. The embedded diamonds looked real.

As we shook hands I noticed he'd recently had a manicure and wore a multi-carat, diamond pinkie ring on his right hand. To match the cuff-links 1 guess. His smile was a testament to cosmetic dentistry.

Once Anthony made the introductions he skillfully managed to move tile two of us away from the group without being overly transparent and then left us. Randy Wurz seemed as surprised to see me as 1 was to see him.

"I
understand you were able to take a look around Tom's office today?" he said. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate your help."

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"Anything to help out. Still no word from Tom?"

"No. I know a party isn't the greatest place for it, but I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions about that."

He looked around as if thinking up an excuse, but finding none he said, "Sure, of course. What would you like to know?"

"I know Tom was one of the founding members of QW Technologies so I assume he was an important part of the business' day-to-day operations. Is that going to be a problem the longer he stays away?"

"Well, naturally, my first concern is for Tom, not the business. He and I are good friends as well as business partners."

"How long have you been partners?"

"We started QW as soon as we graduated from university. We began just wanting to have some fun making computer games. We had some pretty nice successes and the business took off Tom is Mr. Technical and I'm Mr.

Marketing, so we make a good team. Tom in particular spends a lot of time on research and development. While he does R&D, I'm out there peddling our existing products. Works out pretty well for both of us."

"Was Tom working on anything important before he left? Something you'd expect he'd 211

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want to get back to pretty quickly?"

Randy shook his head as he thought over his response. "Not really. He was working on a couple of small projects, but nothing major.

Nothing that was anywhere close to moving off the drawing board. You have to understand, Mr.

Quant, the computer game industry changes faster than you can toggle a joystick. A lot of what Tom works on is trying to second-guess what the consumer will want—not today or tomorrow but the next day. So, by nature, many of Tom's R&D ideas are pie in the sky kind of stuff. But hey, you never know until you try.

That's why we hit it big in the early days with Avenging Angel—up until then, no one had seen anything quite like it. And given time, we'll do it again. Tom's a genius."

I realized Randy hadn't answered my first question. "Is the company in trouble with Tom gone?"

He laughed uneasily. "You sound like one of my customers, worried if we can still meet our commitments. Like I said, Tom spends a lot of his time on R&D. I handle the real stuff—making sales, overseeing production, making sure sales orders are filled. I run the business. QW is okay for now."