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True story, Sam used to work for a private investigator until I headhunted her and made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. It turns out she pretty much ran the business for him and knows all the tricks. Some of them I don’t like to think about too much because I’m almost certain they fall into a gray area. Still, it’s useful on occasions.
So when I tap her a message asking her to find out who the guys on table two are, I’m not at all surprised when she replies less than five minutes later with a full rundown of who bought the table – a law firm in Charleston – and who she thinks is at the table – mostly associates and their friends. No partners.
Basically, Moor and Rycroft LLP have sent the kids out to play.
I write myself a reminder to give Sam a week off for having to deal with my demands and put my phone away. Sophie is now standing, pointing at the stage and saying something to the guys who don’t even bother to stand up like gentlemen should.
My body relaxes as soon as she walks away. Tomorrow I’m going to have a stern talk with myself because this weird reaction isn’t normal. Maybe there was something in the soup. Or maybe I was right the first time. I’m going through some kind of existential crisis.
Maybe there’s a more obvious explanation. Weird how the voice in my head sounds like Eli.
Maybe it’s the old forbidden fruit. You want what you can’t have. And if you can’t have her, you don’t want anybody else to, either.
Am I really that shallow? I frown because maybe I am.
The waiter is walking around the table refilling wine glasses. I shake my head because I’m really not feeling it right now. I need to keep my wits about me. Maybe even come to my senses.
It’s amazing that nobody has noticed that I’m having a full blown breakdown right now. Even Myles, who is usually attuned to everybody, has no idea that I’m seriously considering violence to protect a woman who doesn’t need protecting and isn’t mine to protect anyway.
But she’s a friend. That’s kind of yours.
Okay, I like that thought. It can stay. If she’s my friend then maybe that’s why I’m feeling this way.
Does she know she’s your friend?
No, but I can remedy that. I’ll talk to her. Explain that my one night rule still stands but it shouldn’t stop us from being friends with each other. We can do what friends do. Go out and…
What do friends do?
I’ll have to think about that later because the auction is about to begin. My jaw twitches as Michael comes out on stage, not a hair out of place, his tux and shirt perfectly smooth.
“Folks, it’s that part of the night when we remember exactly why we’re here,” he says, smiling out at the crowd like he isn’t a yank away from having his limbs ripped off. “So let’s start by playing a little video about our chosen charity, Marie’s Hope. The charity was founded in nineteen ninety-nine by the amazing Charles and Melissa Landry, the sister and brother–in-law of our owner, after they sadly lost their daughter Marie to Leukemia. The aim of Marie’s Hope is to make every day a better one for children who are seriously ill, and I think you’ll agree that the kids we’ve been able to help over the years, thanks to your donations, deserve every penny we raise.”
He steps back and a video plays. A little kid comes on – a boy no more than five. He has a bald head and a tube coming out of his nose.
“I want to be an astronaut when I grow up,” he says. “Like Buzz Lightyear.”
There’s something weird in my eye. Probably some dust. I wipe it away.
“But I’m sick, so for now I just want to meet Buzz. In Disneyland. He trains kids like me to be superheroes. That’s what I want to be, too.”
Ava sniffles. Myles hands her his handkerchief. I notice his eyes are also glistening.
Benji – the kid in question – starts showing us hisToy Storycollection. Then there’s a voiceover, explaining that Benji did get to meet Buzz, along with photographs of this gorgeous, vibrant kid living his best life dressed like a Disney character.
The video stops. Michael walks forward and I don’t feel like killing him anymore. “Would anybody like to know what happened to Benji?” he asks softly.
It’s like the whole room is hypnotized. Yes, I want to know he’s been cured. I want to know the kid is going to live his dream and become an astronaut.
Hell, I’ll raise enough money to pay for him to do that.
“Please don’t let him have passed,” Ava whispers. Cold fingers of fear grab at my heart. I hadn’t even thought about that.
And now I want to hit somebody all over again.
Michael claps his hands together. “I’m pleased to say that Benji is doing well. He wanted to be here tonight, but he’s in the hospital undergoing an experimental treatment that’s been funded by the charity. He’s sent his best wishes and a promise that he’ll be here next year, dressed as Buzz on the stage.”
A sigh of relief ripples through the room. And the dust is still circulating, irritating my eyes. Ava glances at me as I wipe my eye again and I shrug at her.
