"Dad, stop," Henley raised her head, her eyes still streaked with the remnants of last night's eyeliner. "Seriously, this is so stupid. It doesn't matter, I've seen tits before."
"Henley Caroline Cassidy Daniels!" Paige shot to her feet. "How dare you! And in front of company! You apologize to these people this minute."
Dropping her head, Henley mumbled an apology. "But it's true," she grumbled, as her mother sat down. "Anyway, you can't police their bodies that way. They're adults. They can do what they want. And I don't see how it's any different to Dad taking guests to Sip 'n' Dip. Would it have been ok if those girls last night would have worn tails?"
Neither of Henley's parents replied, but Jefferson had the decency to look somewhat sheepish. Presently Henley rose, leaving her granola almost untouched, and disappeared upstairs.
"Where's the girl you were with last night?" The caffeine was clearly starting to work its magic. Nina had woken up enough for her voice to take on an acerbic quality as she spoke to Sam.
"Checking out the swimming pool, I think," Sam replied with a level of cheerfulness carefully calculated to irritate her. "That's Julia Rose, by the way. Julia Rose Gaultier. My, er… intern."
He could see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she tried to figure out to what extent he was serious and to what extent he was winding her up. There was residual annoyance, a little judgment building, in case Sam really was taking advantage of a keen young journalist, a slight amusement, a large amount of curiosity that she was trying to contain. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him over the top of her coffee cup.
"Sam is provoking you, Nina," Purdue looked from one to the other with his usual cool, appraising gaze. "He told me about Julia Rose last night, and while it's an unusual story it does not appear to be a romantic or sexual one."
"Last night? When last night? I didn't notice you were gone."
"I had difficulty sleeping," Purdue said. "So I paid Sam a visit. I didn't want to wake you."
Sam fidgeted in his seat, battling the impulse to abandon breakfast and retreat to his room. Seeing Purdue and Nina discussing this little domestic detail was making him decidedly uncomfortable. When did this start? he wondered. That day when I went to interview Matlock, I thought… Maybe I was wrong. I could have been, I suppose. I thought that was water under the bridge. She never said anything during out last time together, which I might add, was extensive. Or maybe it was just after that, after almost getting crushed by the ocean in a small room just before being rescued? Her need to be away from it all, perhaps? Do they look like it's a new thing? I don't know. Would Nina go on a trip like this with someone she hadn't been seeing for long? She went to Antarctica on next to no notice… But that involved her work. Hunting tenure pushed her into the Tibetan trip. Maybe this does too? But how? She's a German history specialist; what would there be for her to do out here?
Fortunately he was spared any further discomfort — of that nature, at least — by Cody pausing in his greetings to address the whole room. He had noticed Henley's departure and decided to talk to everyone before they began to finish their breakfasts and scatter. In his confident, charismatic manner, he reminded them that they had a whole day to spend in Vegas before that night's welcome dinner, where most of them would connect with Sara Stromer in person for the first time. The following morning, as soon as breakfast was done, transport would be waiting to take them to Parashant to begin their Vision Quest.
"So I would encourage everyone to make the most of the dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow," he beamed at them. "Because after that we'll be following the kind of diet that the Paleo-Indian might have enjoyed — and that means no microwaves or takeout places where we'll be going! I can't wait! Can you?"
Somewhere over to his left, Sam heard Nina mutter, "I bloody can."
Chapter Seven
Sam did a quick spin around in front of Julia Rose. "Just about presentable?" he asked.
She looked appraisingly at him. "Black tie isn't really your scene, is it? Yeah, you'll be ok. You won't be the only guy in a room who clearly never wears a tux."
"What? What's wrong with my tuxedo, you cheeky thing?" Sam gave himself a quick once over in the mirror. The suit had seen better days, it was true. He had bought for his sister's wedding and only worn it a couple of times since then. It didn't have any holes in it, at least none that he was aware of, and it still fit. He had polished his shoes and had a proper shave especially for the occasion — not a hint of his usual five o'clock shadow. He had drawn the line, though, at trying to slick his hair. He had run a comb through it. That was surely good enough.
Julia Rose was looking stylish in a yellow Alexander McQueen dress that fell to her knees and was gathered by a gold belt at her waist. "Can you believe someone just left this here?" She clearly could not believe her luck. Earlier that day she had ventured down to the front desk and explained her situation to a sympathetic-looking young man, telling him how she had come to cover the Mind Meld but had never expected that a lowly intern would be invited to the black-tie welcome dinner. He had shown her a closet full of garments that had been forgotten by guests. These were the items that had been there for so long that they could reasonably be assumed to have been forgotten, but were also expensive enough that the hotel thought them worth hanging on to, just in case. As long as she was extremely careful, brought it back by morning and did not tell his boss, the young man had said, Julia Rose was welcome to borrow anything.
Sam strolled over to the mini bar. "One quick thing before we go," he said, reaching in and taking out a little bottle. He poured its clear contents into two shot glasses and passed one to Julia Rose.
"What's this?"
"Don't know," said Sam. "Booze of some kind." He necked his swiftly, and then smacked his lips. "Ah, grappa, I think. It's a little bit of an acquired taste, but I'm really sure this is the kind of event you should line your stomach for."
Julia Rose shrugged. "Ok, then." She knocked hers back and pulled a face. "Ugh. You weren't kidding. Wow! That's strong."
"Yup," Sam said. "Now let's go and see how much free champagne we can get through before they figure out we're a pair of liars and kick us out."
The entrance to the dining room had been draped with a pristine white curtain with the FireStorm logo emblazoned on it — an image of the sun with its rays bursting out to reach the far edges of the cloth. It looked disturbingly like the symbol in the boardroom where the order had congregated under Deep Sea One. In keeping with the image of the room, it had been picked out in an elegant monochrome. As Sam and Julia Rose approached, part of the curtain was swooped aside by a tall, imposing member of the security team. He nodded politely as they passed through.
Behind the curtain was a long room with a high, vaulted ceiling, lined with long tables draped in black linens, laden with huge, white covered dishes. Expressionless wait staff stood at ease behind the tables, waiting for the order to step forward and serve, while cocktail waiters wove their way through the ranks of the guests, passing out colorful, exotic-looking drinks in long-stemmed glasses. At the far end hung another set of curtains bearing the FireStorm logo.
Sam accepted one of the intriguing cocktails and looked around for Purdue and Nina. Though he would not admit it to himself, he was hoping to catch sight of them before they saw him, to see how they acted together when they did not know he was watching. He took a sip of the bright blue drink. What the hell is this? he thought, as he swallowed. Someone needs to show these people how to make a proper cocktail! I haven't tasted anything as weak as this since I was ten years old and nicking tiny nips of my dad's whisky to put in my lemonade. It's as bad as American beer. Practically water.