Chương 7
The name on the authorization sat beneath the charge.
Daniel Mercer.
I looked back toward the loading entrance.
Through the small window in the service door, I could see Emily still standing outside with the envelope in her hand.
And judging by her face when Daniel quietly said something to her, she had no idea he had just paid the balance.
I read the name twice.
“Why would he do that?”
Priya gave me the look she reserved for questions she considered above her pay grade.
“He asked accounting whether he could cover the outstanding authorization without interrupting the event.”
“And accounting let him?”
“He presented ID, signed the authorization, and said he was a guest.”
“He isn’t.”
“He was on the original guest list.”
I looked at her.
Of course he was.
Emily had invited him before everything collapsed, back when this party was supposed to prove something.
“Did anyone tell Emily?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Priya blinked.
“Good?”
“I mean don’t tell her yet.”
“That sounded morally questionable.”
“It probably is.”
“Should I cancel it?”
I looked back through the door window.
Daniel had stepped away from Emily now.
Robert was speaking to him, one hand moving in sharp little gestures.
Diane stood apart from all three of them, rubbing her bare arms as if the night had suddenly gotten cold.
“No,” I said.
“Not yet.”
Priya studied me.
“You’re getting involved.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“That hasn’t historically prevented you from getting involved.”
“We’ve known each other too long.”
“Four years.”
“Exactly.”
She handed me the tablet.
“The bourbon guy is getting louder.”
That problem, at least, belonged to me.
When I walked back into the ballroom, I found the argument exactly where Priya had promised.
A broad man in a tuxedo stood at the bar holding a squat bottle by the neck.
He looked around forty, though his face had the flushed, shiny quality that made age hard to judge.
Noah, one of our bartenders, stood with both palms flat on the counter.
“I’m not saying the whiskey is bad,” the man said.
“I’m saying it’s sentimental.”
Noah’s expression remained professionally neutral.
“And I’m saying outside alcohol can’t be served here.”
“It’s sealed.”
“That doesn’t change the policy.”
“It’s a two-hundred-dollar bottle.”
“It could be two thousand.”
The man saw me approaching.
“You management?”
“I’m Jake Carter.”
“Great.”
He shoved the bottle toward me as if presenting evidence.
“This is a gift for Emily.”
“Nice gift.”
“I want to toast her with it.”
“We can’t serve alcohol brought in from outside.”
He squinted at me.
“Why?”
“Licensing, liability, inventory control.”
“I’ll pour it myself.”
“That would still be outside alcohol.”
“You people are really rigid.”
Noah looked down to hide a smile.
The man leaned closer.
“Emily said anything I needed, you guys would take care of.”
“I’m sure she said that.”
“So take care of it.”
“I am.”
I pointed toward the bottle.
“We can store it securely and return it to you when you leave.”
He stared at me.
“That’s your solution?”
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Possibly.”
“You own this place or something?”
Noah made a choking sound.
The man turned toward him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I held out my hand for the bottle.
“I do.”
He looked at me again.
Then he laughed.
“Sure.”
Behind him, a woman in a green dress murmured, “Oh no.”
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
“I’m the owner,” I said.
His smile vanished more slowly than Emily’s had.
Apparently the evening had developed a theme.
“Right.”
He handed me the bottle.
“Well.”
“No harm done.”
He lowered his voice.
“I was kind of being an ass.”
“A little.”
“Fair.”
I passed the bottle to Noah.
“Label it with his name.”
The man rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m Trevor.”
“Good to meet you, Trevor.”
“Not my best entrance.”
“You’re still ahead of the birthday girl.”
His eyes widened.
Then, against my better judgment, we both laughed.
It lasted maybe two seconds.
That was when Emily came through the ballroom doors.
She had composed herself again.
Anyone who had not seen her in the alley would have noticed only that her lipstick had faded slightly and one strand of hair had escaped near her left ear.
I noticed because I had spent childhood summers watching her correct every imperfection before anyone else could see it.
She walked directly toward me.
“Can we talk?”
Trevor lifted one hand.
“Happy birthday.”
Emily looked at him.
“Why are you holding a hotel claim ticket?”
He pointed toward Noah.
“Long story.”
She closed her eyes.
“Of course it is.”
Trevor wisely disappeared.
Emily looked at me.
“Did the payment go through?”
I hesitated half a second too long.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“The authorization cleared.”
Relief crossed her face.
Then suspicion replaced it.
“How?”
“Maybe we should discuss that somewhere else.”
“No.”
She pulled out her phone.
“I checked my account.”
I lowered my voice.
“Emily.”
“Who paid it?”
A couple near the bar glanced toward us.
Emily noticed and smiled automatically at them.
It was astonishing how quickly she could put the mask back on.
Then she turned to me and whispered through her teeth.
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
For a moment, I thought she had not heard me.
Then the color drained from her face.
“He what?”
“He covered the outstanding authorization.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
She turned toward the hallway.
I caught her wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop the first step.
“Don’t storm into the lobby.”
“Let go.”
I did.
“He had no right.”
“I agree.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Then reverse it.”
“That’s not as simple as pressing undo.”
“It should be.”
“It isn’t.”
“I never authorized him to pay anything.”
“He authorized his own card.”
“For my contract.”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“It’s unusual.”
“It’s manipulative.”
That word carried more weight than the others.
I looked at her.
“Why?”
She stared past me.
May you like
The band had started a quieter song while servers cleared dinner plates.
People at the nearest tables were turning back toward one another.
