Until We Meet Again(50)
this, Fay.”
“Why not? Why have you been turning me away? Is there
someone else?”
“It’s not that,” I say. It would do no good to tell her about
Cassandra, even if I did leave out the little detail that she’s from
a hundred years in the future.
Fay’s eyes narrow. “I know you want me, Lawrence. You’ve
wanted me all summer. Stop playing noble.”
I pull my hand away. She laughs, but there’s no mirth in her
voice or on her face.
“You’re pathetic. You’re not man enough to take me.”
I shake my head. “I respect you too much.”
“You’re a bad liar,” she snarls.
She tries to kiss me again, but I pull her off. Then she
starts to fight, trying to kick me and punch me with all her
strength.
I struggle to make her look at me. “What’s gotten into you,
Fay? Why are you acting like this?”
“Let go!”
Her eyes flash toward the house. They’re focused on something. Her lips form words, but when she notices me following her gaze, she cries out.
“No!”
I see him. The muscular Italian fellow from the library. The
one who was speaking so intently with Fay. He’s standing on
the stone veranda. Watching us. I have the feeling he’s been
watching us the entire time.
And Fay knew he was there.
The stranger darts into the bushes, but it’s too late. I stare at
Fay. “Who is that?”
“You think I know?”
My grip on her upper arms tightens. “You were talking with
him in the library.”
“He’s nobody. Just some rube.”
“Why was he watching us?”
She smirks. “Maybe he thought he’d get a good show.”
“You told him to watch us, didn’t you? Why? Did you think I
was going to hurt you? Did you think you weren’t safe?”
“That would have been ridiculous, seeing as how you won’t
lay a finger on me.”
She pulls herself free from my grip. She’s struggling to look
like she doesn’t care.
“Fay. Talk to me. Tell me why you’re being this way? Is it…
lady troubles?”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re a bastard, Lawrence.”
With that, she dashes back toward the house. I stand
there for a moment, still trying to wrap my brain around
her actions. When I get back in the house, however, no one
seems ruffled. Thank goodness she didn’t make a scene. I
search the room for the fellow who had been watching us.
But he’s long gone.
Gritting my teeth, I move deeper into the library. In spite
of the upsetting events with Fay, I can’t forget my real objective in attending this party. I need information about Cooper Enterprises for Cassandra. I won’t leave the party without it.
My suspicions remain, however, as I look around the room full
of strange faces. Who can be trusted? No one, it seems.
My gaze falls on a man sitting nearby. He’s dressed in a toolarge business suit and is flipping aimlessly through the large atlas on the coffee table. He’s drunk. Perfect.
I bend down and give his arm a friendly pat, putting on an
easy smile. “Hey there, chum. Looks like your drink’s almost
gone. Want a refresher?”
He smiles. “Why sure, son. Thanks.”
I refill his brandy quickly, scanning the room as I go. Ned’s
still talking with Kip Hawkins, and most of the other men
seem distracted with their various conversations.
“You’re a real pal,” the drunk man says as I hand him a
fresh glass.
“No trouble at all.” I motion to the chair on the other side of
the coffee table. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Be my guest,” he slurs.
“Thanks.”
He holds out a hand. “Name’s Hank.”
“Lawrence,” I say. I take a casual sip of my drink. “So, you
from Cooper Enterprises?”
Hank tips his glass in the air. “That’s the one.”
“High-up fellow? Or middle man?” I grin. “You’ll pardon my
nosy questions. I’m going to law school, see, and I’m real curious about the way these big businesses run.”
Hank chuckles. “Sure, sure. No problemo.” He takes a drink.
“I suppose I’m high up, in a manner of speaking. I, uh, help
oversee the under-the-table stuff, if you know what I mean.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Bingo. I try
to appear nonchalant. “Under-the-table stuff, huh? Like what?”
“Oh you know.” He swipes his hand through the air. “Stuff.”
I manage a tight smile. “Dangerous stuff?”
He laughs. “Nah. Not dangerous for me. I run a tight ship
over there at Cape Row.”
“Cape Row?”
“The warehouse. Smith keeps us there in the shadows, by the