The message on Bel's phone is from LINE, from someone called KitKat--which can mean only one person that Bel knows of.
Why is Kam's brother sending me a LINE?
Bel reads the contents of the message. It's only two words, and it makes even less sense the second time. Then another message pops up:
KITKAT: Trust me. This information came from Tinkerbell. I'm hoping you know what the hell that means.
Bel's hands clench around his phone. If this information came from Nina, then it's correct, even if it makes no sense. But facial recognition might not be enough. So maybe...
Bel's fingers are already tapping on the phone before he finishes that thought.
BEL: What's your email address?
"Trying to reach your boyfriend?"
KITKAT: ...Why?
BEL: If you're with Tinkerbell, tell her Peter Pan wants your email address NOW.
"Bel. I asked you something."
"Huh?" Bel shoves his phone back in his pocket and turns to face Gulf, who is standing at his elbow dressed in a white tux with a purple carnation in his buttonhole. Purple? Where in hell did he get that? "Did you say something?"
"You kept looking at the corner where Kam usually sits, and now you're on your phone."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Bel wasn't aware that looking at the same table so many times could be distracting. "Kam said he'd meet me here later, but he hasn't shown up."
"Maybe that's a good thing." Gulf says. "This is a really important event."
This VIP event is black tie, and was organized by some of the most powerful people in the city, so Bel has made the extra effort to be on his best behavior. He hates the stupid black bowtie he has to wear to these things, but he also supposes it could be worse. He could be dressed like Em, with that short black skirt and even shorter dickie vest with the plunging neckline, and high heels with ribbons in her hair. Bel didn't understand why Gulf wanted Em to show that much skin at a black tie event, or why she needed hair ribbons, but then, Bel was not the boss.
"Do you think Kam would cause trouble?"
Gulf shrugs. "He might, if he knew who some of these people were."
The hell is that supposed to mean? A couple of people have ordered more drinks, so Bel prepares them before turning back to Gulf. "Can I help you with something?"
"I want to talk to you. You don't have to stop what you're doing. It won't take very long." Gulf moves behind the bar. "You never told me your dad was an American Intelligence Officer."
Bel's brain starts to turn somersaults. Open bottles, pour, shake, fill glasses, repeat.
"Your sister's Intelligence too, isn't she?" Gulf presses. "But not you."
Open bottles.
Pour.
"I wasn't really into that kind of thing." Bel forces his hands to continue to move.
Shake.
Fill glasses.
Repeat.
"'Wasn't', or 'aren't'?" Gulf asks.
He's watching Bel.
Watching him in a way that he's never watched him before.
Like he wants to reach inside Bel's head and pull out every secret he has.
