'I'm flattered that you asked for my services again so soon, Mr. Stonebraker. But when you dropped me off last night you didn't mention that you had another job in mind.'
'I didn't get my new client until after I left you.' He studied her with an unwavering gaze.
There was nothing overtly rude, threatening, or intimidating about his gaze. He simply watched her.
From out of nowhere, the familiar hunted feeling came over Orchid, just as it had last night in Elvira Turlock's gallery. She glowered at him. He bunked, frowned slightly. The sensation vanished.
If not for the fact that it had left every hair on the nape of her neck standing on end, she could have blamed the incident on her imagination.
'I'm a little busy at the moment,' she said as the door of the inner office slammed open.
'No, you're not,' Clementine announced. 'I've canceled all of your other appointments. You're free to work with Mr. Stonebraker for the next month.'
'A whole month?' Orchid whirled back around to stare at her boss.
'Yep.' Clementine, built like her favorite form of transportation, an ice-cycle, bristled in her signature black leather and gleaming silver studs. Her stark white hair, styled in a short brush-cut, was set off by steel hoops in her ears. 'Stonebraker says his new case may take a little longer than the others.'
Orchid had no trouble seeing the dollar signs that glittered in Clementine's shrewd eyes.
'But I'm not free for a whole month.' Orchid felt pressured. She needed to think about this, she decided. 'I've got commitments.'
'Nothing that can't be rescheduled,' Clementine countered. 'I checked.'
'I'm talking about personal commitments, not Psynergy, Inc., commitments.' Orchid was intensely aware of Rafe listening to the exchange. 'I'm going to attend my cousin's wedding.'
'That's a week off and you said you'd only be away overnight, anyway,' Clementine said smoothly.
Orchid groped for another excuse. 'Founders' Day is coming up soon. Only five days away.'
'So?' Clementine shrugged one sturdy shoulder. 'Have a beer, get a little crazy down in Founders' Square, sing the Founders' Anthem. Big deal. There's still plenty of time to work for Stonebraker.'
'I do have another career, you know.'
'You told me just the other day that you were on schedule with your writing.'
'That's not the point.'
Clementine planted her broad fists on her hips. 'What, exactly, is the point?'
'Yes.' Rafe gave her a curious look. 'What is the point?'
There was no point and Orchid knew it. She had no excuse for turning down the focus assignment. She was not even certain that she wanted to turn it down. She was starting to enjoy the private investigation work Rafe did. But she did not like the feeling of being maneuvered into a neat little trap.
She turned back to Rafe. 'When did you want to start?'
'Tonight.'
'Impossible.' A ridiculous sense of triumph soared through her. 'I have a previous engagement.'
'Cancel it,' Clementine ordered.
'I can't do that.' Orchid gave them all a somber look. 'I'm meeting someone at the Volcano Club. We're going to hold a small wake for a friend of ours who died recently.'
'Oh, yeah, that's right.' Byron balanced another stack of notepads. 'I remember. You and Morgan Lambert are going to drink a toast to that poor ice-prism you both worked with. The one you said was weird.'
'Yes.' Orchid challenged Rafe with another cool glare. 'An acquaintance died a couple days ago. You know how it is.'
'Sure,' Rafe said. 'I know how it is. I'll go with you to the Volcano Club. We can discuss the new assignment after you hold your mini-wake.'
'Uh—' Orchid's brain shut down for an instant.
'I'll pick you up at eight.' Rafe glided back out into the hall.
He was gone before Orchid could think of any more excuses.
A hush fell over the office. It was broken only by the sound of Clementine brushing her hands together in gloating satisfaction. Nothing made her glow like a newly signed focus contract.
'He may not be one of the Stonebrakers of Stonebraker Shipping, but he's certainly a Stonebraker,' Clementine said. 'I'll settle for that.'
'What do you mean?' Orchid asked.
Clementine shrugged. 'Gracie gave me the lowdown on him. Seems our client was in line to inherit control of Stonebraker Shipping at one time.'
Orchid frowned. Gracie Proud was Clementine's permanent partner. They had been matched by a marriage agency several years ago. Sooner or later, gay or straight, almost everyone on St. Helens got married. The Malone- Proud relationship was, from all appearances, a blissful union.
On the surface the two women could not have been more different, Orchid thought. Gracie was a petite, stylish woman with a knack for high fashion and social contacts. She owned and operated Proud Prisms, one of Psynergy, Inc.'s chief competitors. She was an unfailingly accurate source of gossip and information.
'Whew.' Byron's eyes got very big behind his purple glasses. 'We're talking about those Stonebrakers, are we?'
'Yeah.' Clementine grimaced. 'But our maybe not-too-bright client quarreled with his grandfather, old Alfred G. Stonebraker, years ago. Young Rafe lit out for the Western Islands to find himself, as they say. His grandfather never forgave him. Cut him off without a cent. Actually, Gracie says it was more like Rafe cut himself off. Apparently he refused to have anything to do with the family fortune or the company.'
'But he's back in New Seattle,' Byron pointed out. 'Maybe he and his grandfather have been reconciled.'
'Not likely,' Clementine said. 'Gracie knows about these things. She tells me that everyone who moves in the same ritzy circles as the Stonebrakers is aware that Rafe has no interest in the family business. Apparently Rafe's cousin is scheduled to take over control of the company in a few months.'
'How sad,' Orchid said.
'I'll say,' Byron murmured. 'Just imagine walking away from all that money and social clout. Clementine's right. Maybe our client isn't all that bright.'
Orchid glared at him. 'I was referring to the rift in the family. It's always sad when families are torn apart by a quarrel.'
'Yeah, sure.' Byron draped himself over the half empty box of notepads. He gave Orchid a deeply fascinated look. 'So, tell me, is it true what they say about strat-talents? Can they really sense it if you lie to them?'
'That's just an old myth,' Orchid said crisply. 'Everyone knows that.'
'Well, what about the other stuff?'
'What other stuff?'
'Are they really sort of, you know, primitive?' Orchid picked up a stack of Think Exclusive notepads and sent them raining down on Byron's head.
At nine o'clock that evening the Volcano Club was only half full. Orchid, seated at a small table with Morgan Lambert and Rafe, studied the shadowed room. The place was a cross between a nightclub and a coff-tea house. It catered to a bohemian crowd of poets, artists, and assorted wannabes.
A young man on stage hunched over a microphone and growled the words of a poem he had written.
Images burn in jelly-ice. Frozen forever in jelly-ice Shimmering in jelly-ice Dreams of synergy and orgasm In jelly-ice.
It may not have been deathless prose, but it beat the heck out of meta-zen-syn philosophical poetry, Orchid thought.
Tiny jelly-ice candles flickered on the tables. The small flames revealed an assortment of expressions, most of which fell into two categories, world-weary ennui and passionate intensity. The majority of the clientele was dressed in gray, the fashionable color of the moment among the artistic set.
Morgan Lambert fit well into the ambiance of the Volcano Club. He was a thin, intense man with sharp, ascetic features and the long, sensitive fingers of an artist. He looked at Rafe.
'Did you know Theo Willis?'
'No.'
