The Dangerous Edge of Things - By Tina Whittle Page 0,88
but unless she was a mistress of disguise, she was nowhere to be seen. I ordered Trey a drink too, as an excuse to find him.
Then I heard a familiar voice at my elbow. “Grey Goose and lime, please.”
I sighed. “Whatever happened to Bacardi?”
“Whatever happened to Southern Comfort?” Eric turned to face me, gestured toward my fancy fake.
“I guess people change,” I said.
“Of course they do. That’s what makes us people, not rocks.”
I kept my eyes on Trey. I wasn’t about to take the bait, not now. Later Eric and I could argue about who’d changed the most, and how, and whose fault the whole mess was. Later he could tell me all the awful things about Trey that I already knew, and maybe some I didn’t.
I moved to leave, and Eric grabbed my arm. “Look, I don’t know what you’re up to now, and I don’t want to know—.”
“Good.”
“—but you’d better be careful, that’s all I have to say.”
He looked hard at me. With his hair edging to gray and his gold-rimmed glasses, he reminded me of Dad more and more—stern, authoritative, adult. He knew what was best. He was trying to make me see it. He didn’t get why this was a betrayal.
I shook free. “Really? Is that all?”
He looked conflicted for a second. But then the bartender brought his drink, and he turned away from me. “That’s all.”
I left for real then, taking Trey’s Pellegrino with me. By now, the Beaumonts had joined Senator Adams on the dais. Trey waited in the wings, unobtrusive and alert.
I handed him the glass. “Here.”
He frowned. “What’s this?”
“It’s Pellegrino.”
“It’s in a martini glass.” He held it up and examined it. “And there’s an olive in it.”
“Jeez, Trey, it’s an olive. Just go with it, won’t you?”
The music suddenly died down, and Mark Beaumont moved behind a microphone stand. His whole aspect was silvery and cool, like a black-and-white matinee idol, and like the movies, he stood larger than life. Charley waited below, at the edge of the crowd, her face glowing.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mark said, “I am proud to give you our next governor, Senator Harrison Adams!”
And then Adams moved forward, all barrel-chested goodwill, his soft elegant wife at his side. The applause thundered, and the foot-stomping too, laced with whistles and other sounds of approval.
Charley applauded more enthusiastically than anyone else. On her left, to my astonishment, I saw Jake Whitaker. At first glance, he fit right in with his broad shoulders and dark tuxedo, but his expression was brittle and his eyes ping-ponged about the crowd. He said something to Charley, and she snapped her head around and spoke sharply back. On the other side of the crowd, Landon saw the movement and headed their way.
I put a hand on Trey’s arm. “There’s something—”
“I know.”
He moved forward just as I glimpsed a familiar face at the edge of the crowd. I snatched Trey back.
“Gabriella!”
“Where?”
I pointed. She blew us a kiss. She wore a silver blouse and white pants and she had a big spangled purse gripped in both hands. Her smile was dazzling.
Landon reached the edge of the dais just as Jake grabbed Charley’s elbow. She shook him off, but he yanked her to him and pressed his mouth against her ear.
“Stay here,” Trey said.
I hiked up my skirt. “Screw that. You take Charley, I’m taking Gabriella.”
He hesitated, but only for a second. And then he sprinted toward the dais. He was within ten feet of it when Charley’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed onto the wet grass.
Chapter 46
The Phoenix team descended like a thunderstorm, and Trey disappeared into the chaos. I didn’t have time to ponder the rescue mission, however—I was shoving my way through a sea of perplexed rich people, keeping my eyes on Gabriella. She stood beside the vanishing edge pool, her hair loose and rippling, her expression curious. She didn’t attempt to flee, but by the time I reached her, my sides heaved from my sprint across the courtyard.
“Stay where you are!” I yelled.
She shrugged. “Why would I run?”
And she didn’t, she just stepped behind a cabana out of sight of the other partygoers. This wasn’t how I’d expected the encounter to go, but if she wanted to surrender, that was cool with me. Of course if she didn’t, and I had to wrestle her to the ground and throw her thieving French self into the pool, I was okay with that too.