console. âYou have power and youâre decisive and you know what you want and you donât take anyoneâs bullshit and you expect a lot out of people and you donât suffer fools and youâreâ¦â Heâd started out sounding angry, but something in my reaction must have cooled him down because he sort of trailed off and looked down at the wires again. Wow. It may take a lot to get him going, but it was worth it. He finished packing up his things and he spoke again, quietly this time. âBecks, a lot of those things will get you called a bitch, but in my mind and in this worldââhe gestured at the console and the sound booth beyondââtheyâre what make you a hero.â I stood up. I blinked at him. âReally?â âReally.â He looked away and cleared his throat. âI wonder what youâd say if I asked you what you think about me.â Warning signs started flashing. This was all getting a little too intense. I mean, heâd just saidâ¦and I wasnât used to complimentâ¦and heâd actually spoken more than five words at a time on a subject other than the undead. It was all getting way too real. He expected an answer from me. âI thinkâ¦â I gulped. âI think for a straight guy you know an awful lot about old movie stars.â Disappointment flickered across his face, then he nodded. And I got the hell out of there.
Nine T he countdown to the wedding had begun. The night before we left for London Connieâs parents threw a simple little going-away party for all of her friends who wouldnât be able to make it to the actual event. And, of course, all of Ianâs friends who were in the same boat. And while they were at it, everyone who would be going to the wedding, too. When your living room resembles a tastefully decorated airplane hangar, why not? There was a three-piece jazz combo called Hi Neighbor, a swan carved out of ice, a plenitude of eerily similar-looking waiters passing champagne and nibbles, and a buffet that stretched on for about a mile. âHow does Connie expect us to fit into the damn bridesmaid dresses if weâre going to be fed like this at every damn party for the next two weeks?â Vida asked in dismay. âDidnât you get her instructions?â I asked. âWhat instructions?â I pulled a neatly typed 3 x 5 card out of my evening bag. âNumber One: Eat a large salad with no-cal dressing before the party. Number Two: Drink one 8-ounce glass of mineralwater between each alcoholic beverage. Number Three: Limit alcoholic beverages toââ Vida snatched the paper from my hand. âYou have so got to be kidding me!â I so wasnât. âItâs what she gives her clients before a big party. I mean, not the socialite clients, but the nervous ones who want to be told how to behave. Apparently lots of brides appreciate it.â Vida tore the card neatly in two and dropped the pieces to the floor. âI do notââshe punctuated her statement with a gulp of champagneââwant to be toldââhere she grabbed a passing waiter by the arm and exchanged her empty flute for a full oneââhow to behave.â She polished off the contents of the new glass. âLetâs hit this buffet.â Something told me the party had just gotten interesting. Max joined me as Vida went foraging. âWhatâs the green stuff?â He gestured to an unappetizing platter. âSomething expensive,â I guessed. âYou know, I always forget how loaded Connieâs parents are. I really should schmooze them more.â âPlease. Half the people here are your clients.â I looked around the room and saw evidence of Maxâs skill with the Botox needle everywhere. âThereâs always room for more. And I must drop a discreet hint to Conâs mom about a friend of mine who could take care of