Tossing his napkin onto the table, he stalks to the AV booth and starts to berate Patty. We’re too far away to hear what he’s saying, but his body language is pissed. Moments later, the bass-heavy music cuts off abruptly, leaving the room silent and the dancers slowing to a stop where they stand.
With another impatient gesture at the Oakwood worker, Howard lifts his lapel and bends his head so he’s practically eating the mic that’s still attached to him after the wild goose chase. At first, we don’t hear anything, but when Patty turns a knob to the right of the board, Howard’s forced laugh booms overhead.
“Ha! A-ha ha, folks! Tonight’s entertainment’s gotten a little wild, hasn’t it? But, uh, that’s what we do at Sounder Benefits Management. We innovate.” He shoots a kiss-assy glance at the VIP table, all the while keeping his lips uncomfortably close to the mic. “But thisth is a good time to take a pause, refresh our drinks, and enjoy some dessert before the big finale.”
I can actually see when it dawns on him that he’s got the whole room’s attention and decides to milk it.
“While I’ve got you folks, I just want to say from the bottom of my heart”—he slaps his hand to his chest, his wedding ring slapping against the lav mic with an uncomfortably loud crack—“thank you all for being here to celebrate this holiday stheason with us. Tonight hasth been a dream come true and a labor of love, from me to you.”
His face is shiny under the chandeliers, the product of sweating his way through unpleasantly hot course after unpleasantly hot course, and his nose is red and runny, turning his voice even more nasal than usual. He’s also struggling to enunciate some of his words; his s’s and t’s and r’s are coming out muddy and garbled. To guests who don’t know what he’s gone through tonight, he might sound a little tipsy, but I’m guessing he’s actually dealing with a tongue that’s swollen from too much capsaicin.
Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
“As the architect of tonight’s event, I’m beyond moved that you’re here sharing it with me.” His smile’s on the manic side, but he does think to add, “Oh, and the rest of the Sounder family. Enjoy your dethert, folks.“
With another phony smile that the investors may or may not be buying, Howard walks away, leaving Patty scrambling to cut the mic. Then he turns and walks straight toward our table.
“Shit,” Darby says. “He’s onto us.”
Gabe wraps an arm around her shoulder. “It’s fine, baby.” To the rest of us, he says, “My wife wasn’t cut out for a life of crime.”
Sebastian grabs Birdy’s hand. “Is it time to pull the cord?”
“No.” Wyatt’s voice is firm. “Nobody’s putting on a parachute and bailing yet.”
“Everybody just be cool,” I add, although my heart’s rattling in my chest as Howard comes to a stop in front of us. I was invited tonight along with every other member of the Beaucoeur Chamber of Commerce, but what if he sees me and starts wondering about his run of bad luck at this cursed party? What if he figures out just how badly Wyatt’s fucked with his plans? What if?—
“You.” Howard snaps his fingers at Wyatt. “Come with me.”
Twenty
Now
Wyatt
* * *
One thing I know for sure: If Howard has any kind of evidence about what’s been happening tonight, I’m the only one involved. Not my brother or sisters, not my friends, and sure as fuck not CJ.
I’ll burn this whole place to the ground if it keeps her out of trouble.
Howard’s paunchy belly squishes against me as he crowds close and hisses, “Where the fuck is Maxine?”
Immediate mental gear shift. If he’s looking for Maxine, he’s still in problem-solving mode or he’s looking for someone to dump blame on. My alarm ratchets down by at least eighty percent.
I steer Howard toward the edge of the room for this conversation.
“I’m assuming she’s at home,” I say. “Yesterday was her last official day.”
“But she was here,” he says, looking around frantically. “I had her activate the employee phone tree.”
As fun as it would be to try to convince him that Maxine was never actually here, I’m not sure that serves the immediate goal.
“I did see her earlier, but I think she only stopped in to say goodbye to everyone, then headed home.”
“Get her back,” he snaps.
“I can’t, and neither can you. She’s not a Sounder employee anymore.” My patience for this man is gone. “We had a retirement cake for her yesterday, remember? You took the biggest piece and gave her a brass clock.”
