If At First

Part 8 - Chapter 7

7

Doug arrived with a handful more of the same flowers, and the air of a misbehaving child getting his way. It irritated me probably more than it should, but I decided instead to concentrate on being thankful for getting away from my grandmother's sharp eye. The last thing I needed was an inquisition.

"Nice house...or is this your summer house?" Doug asked, more out of an effort to start a conversation than any actual interest in the answer.

"Neither." We took off on foot, away from the main street in town. "This is nice of you, Doug. As much as I wasn't expecting to go out tonight, I suppose it'll be good to know someone in town who can introduce me to people who aren't the pharmacist."

"Yup." He didn't seem to be listening.

"Where are we going?"

"Party."

I waited for him to provide more information, but he remained two steps ahead of me and focused on our direction. He was nothing like the last two times we had met, and while I was thrilled about that fact, a little more conversation might have been nice. He was in a rush.

"You didn't want to elaborate?" I asked finally, keeping up with his pace.

"Oh. Sorry." He glanced back at me, "I don't know, it's just a party. —There really isn't much else to do at night."

"Weren't you supposed to be showing me around the town?"

"Oh. Yeah." He paused briefly and looked up as if to get his bearings. "Okay, so, here are the backs and in-betweens of a bunch of houses in the dark, those are some trees and stuff, over there is a beach somewhere, and now I'm going to show you the home of Fitch Malory." He smiled, his eyes squinting again in concentration to find our way. "I never come over to this part of town. It takes me a bit to remember where everything is."

At the mention of Fitch Malory I felt a little like I had been punched. I remembered him, the strange guy from Danni's wedding, and started to wonder if I was doomed to run into every person I ever humiliate myself in front of.

Within a ten minute walk, we arrived at a Tudor-style house. Though "house" seemed like a small word for the place. I briefly took in the elegantly decorated space, relieved that its occupant wasn't in sight. I followed Doug through swarms of over-warm and carefully poised bodies.

At the far end of a large room near the front of the house we approached an intimidating group composed exclusively of women. Very attractive women. Their attention was drawn to the center of their circle and Doug, disregarding my presence other than to grab my hand and yank me into the crowd, launched himself into their chatter with a boisterous, "I'm here, ladies! I'm here!"

Those nearest us glared; understandably irritated as I was forced to push them aside when Doug tugged insistently at my arm. No one would make eye contact though I apologized repeatedly for my seeming disrespect for their personal space.

At the core of the women, everyone was particularly focused on one individual. From my obstructed view I could see an ostensibly engaging yet commanding figure, but his back was turned to us.

He stood with a platinum, surgically enhanced companion under one arm, and a saucy brunette wrapped around the other. The blonde definitely didn't speak English, but both were laughing loudly at whatever he had just said. At the sound of Doug's voice, the man turned and I instantly and regretfully identified Haven Casey, entirely at ease among a throng of devoted followers.

Upon this realization, I ducked behind Doug, hoping that mine would be just another face in the crowd, though my unworthy appearance was bound to stand out. I mentally kicked myself for having forgotten that Doug told me he stayed with Haven's family when he came to town. But he also said Haven was never here.