“Oh, yes, I saw him before, over by the bar. He was talking to a woman. She had long, blond hair and wore a bright pink dress that showed a lot of cleavage. He has a gold hoop earring in his left ear, and a gold ring on the middle finger of his right hand.”
“Jesus, do you actually have eyes in the back of your head like my mom used to say she did? How do you know when you haven’t looked?”
“I saw him, over by the bar,” Elizabeth repeated. “I noticed him because the blond woman seemed very angry with him. And I remember because I have an eidetic memory.”
“Is it fatal?”
“No, it’s not a disease or condition. Oh.” Flushing a little, Elizabeth hunched her shoulders. “You were joking. It’s commonly called a photographic memory, but that’s not accurate, as it’s more than visual.”
“Whatever. Get ready.”
But Elizabeth was more interested in Julie—the eye, which included a tipped head, slow, secretive smile and a shift of the eyes from under the lashes. This was followed by a quick shake and toss of the head that lifted Julie’s hair and had it drifting down again.
Was it innate? Was it learned behavior? Some combination of both? In any case, Elizabeth thought she could emulate it, though she no longer had hair to toss.
“Message received. Oh, he’s got such an adorable smile. Oh my God, he’s coming over. He’s like actually coming over.”
“But you wanted him to. That’s why you…sent the message.”
“Yeah, but—I bet he’s at least twenty-four. I bet. Follow my lead.”
“Excuse me?”
Elizabeth looked up as Julie did but didn’t risk the smile. She’d need to practice first.
“I wonder if you can help me with something.”
Julie executed a modified hair toss. “Maybe.”
“I’m worried my memory is failing because I never forget a beautiful woman, but I can’t recall either of you. Tell me you haven’t been here before.”
“First time.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“I guess you’re here a lot.”
“Every night. It’s my club—that is,” he said with a dazzling smile, “I have an interest in it.”
“You’re one of the Volkovs?” Elizabeth spoke without thinking, then felt the heat rise as he turned sizzling blue eyes on her.
“Alex Gurevich. A cousin.”
“Julie Masters.” Julie offered a hand, which Alex took, kissed stylishly on the knuckles. “And my friend Liz.”
“Welcome to Warehouse 12. You’re enjoying yourselves?”
“The music’s great.”
When the waitress came with the drinks, Alex plucked the tab off the tray. “Beautiful women who come to my club for the first time aren’t allowed to buy their own drinks.”
Under the table, Julie nudged Elizabeth’s foot while she beamed at Alex. “Then you’ll have to join us.”
“I’d love to.” He murmured something to the waitress. “Are you visiting Chicago?”
“Born and bred,” Julie told him, taking a long swallow of her drink. “Both of us. We’re home for the summer. We’re at Harvard.”
“Harvard?” His head cocked; his eyes dazzled. “Beautiful and smart. I’m half in love already. If you can dance, I’m lost.”
