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“Where’s Huxley?” I ask.
“In the Chess Room with Victoria.”
“Thanks.” I lead Sidnie toward the double doors on the right.
“I’m guessing you don’t play chess there,” Sidnie says.
“Some people do, but that’s not why it’s called the Chess Room. You’ll see why it’s called that in a minute.” I nod at the bouncer on the door. “Evening, Ed.”
“Good evening, Dr. Hart.” He opens the door and smiles at Sidnie.
She glances at me as the doors swing shut behind us. “Do you know everyone’s name?”
“I was brought up to believe it’s important to know the names of all the people you meet on the way up, because you never know when you might need them on the way down.”
I lead her along the corridor, past the main dining room, toward the sound of the music. A few tables are filled, but most of the club’s members will be going to the party tonight. Sidnie looks at the polished wooden tables, the leather chairs, the chandeliers, and her eyes widen.
“The club is a place to meet people,” I explain. “And to work, too. There are lots of meeting rooms and places to work. A gym. And private rooms for hire, like motel rooms, only a bit more upmarket.”
“You like it here, I can tell.”
“I do. It’s busy, and modern. I get to meet interesting people. Huxley owns the club. Victoria is his partner.”
“Are they married?”
“No, she’s his business partner. She does the day-to-day stuff. She’s very good at her job. She reads people well, and knows what they need before they ask for it.”
“You’re fond of her.”
“The three of us are old friends—we all went to school together.”
She gives me a curious look. “Were you and Victoria an item?”
I smile. “No.” I don’t elaborate and offer her my arm, and she slides her hand into the crook of my elbow.
We walk into the Chess Room. The central dance floor consists of large black and white squares, hence its nickname. The bar runs all the way along one wall, manned by three bartenders who are all busy serving drinks to the members. Tables and chairs line two of the other walls. A popular Kiwi band is performing one of its songs on the stage at the front of the room.
“It’s Paua of One,” Sidnie says, surprised. “I love them!”
She has to lean forward to say it in my ear because the music is quite loud. Her breath whispers across my skin. When I turn my head, my lips are only inches from hers. Jesus, I want to kiss this woman.
But there’s no time, because someone says, “Mack!” and I turn to see Victoria standing there, beaming at me.
“Hey.” I accept her kiss on my cheek. “Looks like it’s going well.”
“It’s fantastic,” she says. “Everyone turned up, I’m so thrilled.”
She looks amazing tonight, in an extremely sharp black three-piece pantsuit, a white blouse with a frill down the front, and black high heeled sandals that take her already tall frame up to a good six foot. Her dark hair is pinned up in a bun and studded with what are almost certainly diamond pins. Her makeup, as always, is immaculate.
“And who’s this?” she asks, turning to Sidnie.
“Vic, this is my friend, Sidnie. Sidnie, meet Victoria Brown.”
“Very pleased to meet you.” Victoria shakes her hand.
“Likewise,” Sidnie says. “Mack tells me he went to school with you and… do I call him Oliver or Huxley?”
“Oh, everyone calls him Huxley or Hux. We were all besties through some tough times at Oakland Grammar, weren’t we, Mack?”
