I spin around. “Mr. Hanson.”
How could a man I’ve known most of my life become a degenerate, exploiting young girls?
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” His voice is polished and perfectly controlled. “Does your father know you’re here?”
His eyes flick to Bolt.
Assessing.
Judging.
“No, I thought it would be fun to surprise him.”
Hanson’s eyes dart back to mine, and I meet his dark gaze with calm coolness.
“How nice. I assume, then, you’ll be joining him for the presentation. This is going to be a big night for him, getting the Humanitarian Award.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. My father will finally be getting what he deserves.”
“So true, so true.” He smiles again, then moves off into the room.
When he’s gone, Bolt leans into my ear. “That was the land developer, right?”
“Very good. You’re really getting the hang of this.”
A waiter offers us a tray of champagne. I take a glass, then nod to Bolt to do the same. “Next thing I know, you’ll be joining Riviera.”
“Yeah, right.” Bolt takes a healthy swig, swallows, and his lips twist. “That tastes like shit!”
It’s all I can do to not spray my mouthful all over him, but I manage to swallow, then laugh. “I’m guessing champagne isn’t your thing.”
“Never had it before, and I hope to never have it again.” He cranes his neck around the room. “Think I could get a shot of Jack?”
“We’re not here to get our drink on,” I remind him.
“No shit, I just wanna get the taste outta my mouth.”
“Nicoletta?” Bitsy, one of my tennis partners, joins us, all eyes on Bolt, then she turns to me. “I was so sorry to hear about Brad.”
“Yes, very unfortunate.”
“And it was never quite clear who did such a terrible thing to such a wonderful man. Everyone had a theory, of course, about how it happened, but no one ever found out. Did they?”
“I guess it will be one of those unsolved mysteries.” I shrug. “Maybe someday it’ll be aDateline Special.”
“You know, you’re right.” Bitsy leans in and murmurs, “I just want you to know that I and the rest of the tennis team didn’t believe a word of all that nasty gossip.”
“What nasty gossip was that?” I can’t help egging her on.
“Well, you were living with Brad at the time, and then people said you fled to Tijuana.” Her eyes dart to Bolt, then back to me. “But I never believed any of it.”
“Thank you.” I force a fake smile, hoping she knows it’sfake. “Your support means so much, and do pass the same sentiment along to the tennis team.”
“I definitely will,” Bitsy assures. “You know the way some of those women talk, but I never indulged in any of it.”
“Friends like you don’t come along often, Bitsy.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Her eyes blatantly assess Bolt. “Although, I do understand why you’ve stayed away for so long.”
