"Controlling interest."
"Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?" he offered. "A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?"
"Why not just give him the money?" I wondered.
"Because he's a shrewd businessman?"
With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Gideon, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.
Once we'd moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.
Cary patted my shoulder. "You relax. I'll network."
"Go get 'em."
He moved away, intent on his agenda.
I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.
I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I'd hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.
A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to Gideon's club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.
"Hey, Eva." He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. "Are you having fun? You're not mingling much."
"I'm having a great time." At least I had been. "Thank you for inviting me."
"Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you're here. Me, too, of course." His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. "Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by."
"I'll do that."
"Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me." He winked, and then hopped up and away.
Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. She looked worldlier than her seventeen years. "Hi."
"Hello."
"Where's Gideon?"
I shrugged at the blunt question. "I'm not sure."
She nodded sagely. "He's good at being a loner."
"Has he always been that way?"
"I guess. He moved out when I was little. Do you love him?"
My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, "Yes."
"I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park." She bit her lush lower lip. "Is he fun? You know...to hang around with?"
"Oh. Well..." God. Did anyone know Gideon? "I wouldn't say he's fun, but he's never boring."
The live band began playing "I've Got You Under My Skin" and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. "Time to make me look good, Ginger."
"I'll try my best, Fred." I smiled at Ireland. "Excuse me a minute."
"Three minutes, forty seconds," she corrected, displaying some of her family's expertise in music.