"Seems nice enough."
"What?"
"I said, he seems nice enough."
She nodded, waved at someone across the room who was standing under a Damien Hirsch painting of multicolored spots. The person waved back, began making his way over to us. With the crowd the way it was, I guessed he'd reach us sometime after we'd all gone home and gone to bed.
With Natalie, Corry, Dale, and Moore all present, I felt safe in putting my full attention on Lady Ainsley-Hunter for a moment, so I shouted, "I'm going to ask this again – why are we here?"
She sipped her champagne for the first time, gave the glass a look of mild surprise, then set it on the bar and leaned over to where Moore was standing.
"Robert, would you like to meet the band?"
He grinned, shook his head. "That's a bit unprofessional, my lady."
"Not at all." She smiled at him. "I need to speak with Orin anyway, Robert."
"If Your Ladyship insists."
"She does," she said, and with that, we went to meet the band.
Rorschach Test was really only three members, the two McLaughlin brothers – Orin and Judd – and a drummer who went by the name Digger. If it was a first name, a last name, or a nickname, I never found out. Orin and Judd clearly had come from the same tree, though Orin, the elder, was also taller and heavier than his brother. All hailed from Sheffield, England. All three were dressed unpretentiously, and I wondered if they'd had any trouble getting into the club that night.
We found them in one of the VIP rooms at the back of the warehouse, seated on more of that seventies furniture, lit by lamps designed by Jorge Pardo. The room was awash in a haze of smoke, both tobacco and pot. A sideboard was laden with caviar, smoked salmon, fruit, bottles of champagne, and, frighteningly, Coors. Groupies or roadies or other support staff clung to the corners of the room.
Moore and I accompanied Her Ladyship inside, leaving the others out on the dance floor, and no sooner had we entered than Orin sprang from where he'd been lounging on a sofa and gave Lady Ainsley-Hunter a hug. It seemed genuinely warm, and she returned it enthusiastically. Judd grinned. Digger ignored us and took a hit off the bong in his lap.
"Lady Antonia," Orin said. "Didn't know you'd be here."
"I could hardly miss the opportunity. This is Robert Moore, he handles my security. He's a fan."
Orin was perhaps a year or two older than Lady Ainsley-Hunter, and when he grinned, he looked even younger than she did. "Truth?"
"Truth," Moore said.
Orin stuck out a hand, shook Robert's warmly. "Always glad to meet a fan. You pick up the new album yet? We've got copies lying around here, hold on." He turned and shouted at a middle-aged woman who was pouring drinks at the sideboard. "Libby, we got a copy of the new one lying about? Could you bring it here?"
"It's not necessary," Moore said.
"It's no bother, mate. Here it is. Enjoy it, it's the best one yet. We really hit our stride on this one."
Behind him, on the sofa, Digger nodded, then let out the smoke he'd been holding. He didn't cough.
"My PA spoke with your manager this morning," Lady Ainsley-Hunter said. "He told her that Rorschach Test won't be on our album."
"Yeah, we're really sorry about that, Lady Antonia," Orin said. "Just that if you want to have the album out for Christmas, we've got to lay down the track in the next month or so, and we're on tour. We don't have time. You know how it is."
Lady Ainsley-Hunter nodded, sympathetic. "Yes, you're extremely busy. Headed straight for the top of the charts with this new one, I understand."
"That's the hope, eh?"
"You gave me your word, Orin. You said Rorschach Test would provide the lead track. You promised me an original song that would really – and I'm using your words now – make a difference."
Orin McLaughlin made a pained face, glanced back at where his brother was seated. Judd was watching the conversation. Digger looked like he was about to nod off.
"I did do that, yeah," Orin said. "Things change. We can't."
"You will."
It was how she said it; it frosted the air between them, and Orin snapped his head up as if she'd slapped him.
"This November, Together Now will release an album to raise funds for child rescue in Southeast Asia and Africa," Lady Ainsley-Hunter said. "Our fund-raising target is fifty million dollars, and I have every intention of not only reaching that mark, but surpassing it. To that end I have assembled, very carefully, bands that appeal to a certain buying demographic, a youth market. Rorschach Test is about to become enormously popular to those buyers. Despite my bodyguard's enjoyment of your music, you and I both know he's not the demographic I want.
"You gave me your word. You will keep it."
"Lady Antonia, it's not that we don't want to, it's that…"
"I didn't come here to listen to your excuses, Orin, and I didn't come here for a contact high. I'm explaining to you the way it will be. You will write me my song, it will be bloody brilliant, and you will have the track recorded and ready for the album before the end of August."
Orin shook his head, angry and hurt. "I don't care if you are a sodding peer. You don't talk to your friends like that, eh? You don't push me around like that."
"This isn't about friendship." She was furious, and her voice dropped, and she took a step forward, and for a moment I wondered if I was going to have to restrain her. Moore, standing at her other arm, still holding the CD, was motionless. "It's about work."
"You can't force us…"
"I can." She took another step closer to him, and there was no friendliness in the approach. "Now, you'll give me my song. Or else you had better start asking for proof of age from every groupie who offers you a blowjob, Orin. Because I promise you, if just one of them is underage, I'll find out about it, and I'll make sure everyone who has ever even heard of Together Now knows how much you love children."
The threat turned Orin pale. Judd had gotten to his feet, looking as shocked as his brother. Digger was snoring.
"My PA will expect a call from your manager in the morning." Lady Ainsley-Hunter turned on her heel and headed for the door so briskly I had to scurry to catch up.
Moore followed a second later, mumbling an apology and a thank you. When I caught his expression out of the corner of my eye, I knew that Lady Ainsley-Hunter had humiliated him as much as she had Orin.
"It's always about the children," he muttered as we made our way back to the dance floor.
Chapter 10
Three days later, everything went to hell in a handbasket.
It actually started the night before, with me getting in late, cranky and hungry and with a headache. I'd made a bowl of oatmeal and finished the orange juice in the pitcher, and that had taken the edge off by the time I fell asleep.
All the same, when my alarm went off at a quarter of five my head felt thick, my muscles ached, and I knew I was moving slowly. A look at myself in the mirror when I'd finished shaving confirmed the worst. The bags under my eyes looked packed for a long trip, and my tongue was coated. I was coming down with something.
In the kitchen, I popped a handful of the assorted vitamins that Bridgett kept in the cabinet with the canned goods, made a fresh quart of juice from concentrate, then used most of it to chase the pills down. I dressed in one of my nicer suits, hooked my radio and gun to my belt, and stumbled downstairs. It was still dark outside, and I nearly tripped over Midge, my downstairs neighbor, who was stretching against the doorframe in preparation for her morning run.
"You should be in bed." Midge said it in the same perky way she said everything, no matter how sad or depressing or tedious the observation might be. Everything about her was perky, from the sweats to her permed blond hair.