Chapter 10 #2
She nods, but an insidious smile stretches across her red, glossy lips as she measures me from head to toe.
“I’ll tell you one thing, though, honey.
If you drop about thirty, maybe forty, pounds, I’ll be more than happy to introduce you to some of the finer men of New York.
My bridge club ladies have some of the city’s hottest bachelors for nephews and grandsons.
A self-made woman like you deserves the best shot. ”
“I’m trying to figure out what sort of gift one needs to be able to mask an insult underneath all that fluff,” I retort and take a sip from my glass.
Welcoming the slightly fruity, bubbly liquid down my throat, I wait for Sheila to flutter her eyelashes in faux confusion. Beside me, I can already feel the Morgan brothers becoming tense, like walls that are about to close in on her. She senses the shift in the air between us, as well.
“Whatever do you mean?” Sheila asks me. “I was just saying—”
“You were just saying that I’m too fat to be with what I assume you consider a high-quality man,” I boldly interrupt.
Having Cole, Asher, and Toby beside me fills me with incredible confidence.
“But you ignore the fact that I’m already in the company of three of the city’s most desirable men, right here, right now.
I don’t need to look like someone else to be with a good, high-value man.
In fact, by being myself in every aspect of my life, I’m not with one, or two, but with three of them.
And that, Sheila, makes me the luckiest woman in this ballroom. ”
Sheila’s jaw drops to the floor. The anger in her eyes is damn near palpable. It makes my skin crawl, but I keep my chin up, not regretting a single word that came out of my mouth. Asher’s hand adds pressure to my back, as if to remind me they’re still here and I’m safe.
“It was just a piece of well-meaning advice, Willow. You don’t have to get so defensive about it,” Sheila scoffs. “You do you and see how that works out. But when you’re ready to take things to the next level, I’m here. I doubt the Morgan brothers are the marrying type.”
Sheila walks away, hips swaying, as she blends into the swelling crowd.
The party comes back into focus with its twinkling lights and spicy smells.
The dinner is precisely what the menu promised: seven different courses, each finer and more extravagant than the last, molecular gastronomy reinventing some exquisite French dishes into spectacular new forms. The plating is gorgeous, too, and the wine pairing just brings every taste to a whole new level.
“My God, this is the third course,” Jamie groans and takes another sip of water. “How the heck am I going to make it to the seventh?”
“It’s not a lot of food, if you look at it,” I quip, nodding at my plate as the waiter sets it down in front of me.
Jamie frowns slightly when he notices that my plate has a couple of extra shrimp on top of the black rice bed. “I love shrimp,” he mutters.
“Have at it; I’m not a huge fan,” I laugh, watching him spear each morsel to transfer it onto his plate.
“There was a non-fish option, too,” Cole says.
“I know, but I figured it’s seven courses. I don’t mind skipping one.”
Toby leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Seven courses mean nothing, if I don’t get to taste you later.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get your fill of me tonight,” I reply with a soft giggle.
“We have quite the appetite; I should warn you,” Cole adds with a devilish smile.
The clinking of metal against a glass draws our attention to the end of the long table where the bride and groom are seated. I notice Sheila’s nasty glare bounce off me before I look at Terrence. He’s standing and demanding everyone quiet down.
“I just wanted to say thank you all for being here tonight.” He is already slurring his words, much to Katrina’s muted chagrin.
“It’s his second toast, isn’t it?” Asher mutters.
“And I just wanted to say how lucky I am to be married to this beautiful, bright woman,” Terrence adds, wobbling slightly on his own two feet. “You look hot, baby, like, smoking hot.”
“Thank you, my love,” Katrina flatly replies. “Why don’t you sit down? The food is getting cold.”
“Fuck the food!” Terrence quips and laughs a little too loud, prompting some scowls and gasps from the guests. “I’m celebrating here. My wedding day! I got married, folks! I’m off The NY Times Most Eligible Bachelors List!”
Cole shakes his head slowly. “No such thing.”
“He meant the New York Post, but he’s too drunk,” Asher chuckles dryly.
In the meantime, Jamie works through his double serving of fancy shrimp and black squid ink rice, washing each bite down with a generous gulp of water while watching Terrence make a fool of himself in front of almost a thousand guests.
“I am a lucky son of a bitch, right? Oh, sorry, Mom.” He cracks himself up, laughing loudly again, while Sheila struggles to get him back in his seat.
“You’ve had enough, honey, let’s eat.”
“No, hold on, I’m not done yet!” he snaps and pushes her away.
Sheila falls back in her chair, red-faced and livid. Katrina’s eyes are wide, glossy, and round with horror as Terrence continues his drunken spiel.
“Cole, you’d better get him to sit his ass down before he makes a mockery of the entire family,” Asher advises.
A strange sound coming from Jamie makes me look to my right.
“Jamie?” I ask.
He’s as white as a sheet. His mouth is open, his eyelids drooping. Sweat blooms across his face. “I think… I think…”
“Jamie!” I cry out, unsure how to help him.
He faints and face-plants into his plate, frothing at the mouth and convulsing at the same time. I scream and jump out of my seat. Asher and Toby rush to Jamie’s side and get him out of his chair.
“Somebody call 911!” I hear someone shout.
Terrence is frozen, holding up a champagne glass while staring at the commotion on our side of the table. More and more guests stand so they can see what’s happening. I’m shaking like a leaf as they lay Jamie down on the floor.
“This looks like poison,” Asher says, loosening Jamie’s tie.
“An ambulance is on the way,” Cole replies.
Toby wets one of Katrina’s fancy wedding napkins with the silvery corners, and uses it to pat Jamie’s face. It’s the only thing to do, as Jamie shivers and twitches, going in and out of consciousness.
“They’re pumping his stomach now,” Cole says as he walks out of the emergency room.
Toby and Asher stayed at the reception, trying to contain the ensuing panic, while the police secured the scene over a suspected poisoning.
“Oh, God,” I mumble, sinking back into the plastic chair, one of a dozen in a not-so-crowded waiting room.
“They’ll keep him on fluids while they wait for the test results. We don’t know what kind of poison or toxin he ingested, so they’re doing a full panel,” Cole says. He moves closer to give me a worried once-over. “How are you feeling?”
“I didn’t even think about me. I’m okay, I think.”
No dizziness. No nausea. No urge to suddenly collapse, foaming at the mouth. I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear, but the concept of a poisoning at the wedding still makes my insides churn.
“Did anyone else get sick?” I ask Cole. “What are the police saying?”
He checks his phone again. His brothers are constantly updating him with messages.
“No one else got sick,” he says. “The police think this was a targeted incident, so they’ve secured and are testing his plate and his drink in the portable crime lab they set up outside Thornwood Manor.”
To think that Jamie and I were both thrilled about the wedding boosting our revenue. All the business cards he gave out. Good grief, if he makes it out of this alive, he’ll be so pissed. I know he’ll get started on damage control before they even take the IV out of his arm.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cole asks me, then gently tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. I give him a reassuring nod.
“Just scared out of my mind. Who would do such a thing?”
“The police will ask you all the standard questions: Does Jamie have any enemies? Did he seem upset or concerned about something lately, and so on.”
“I wouldn’t even know what to tell them, except that Jamie was in a great mood despite all the stress we incurred putting this wedding together. He was anxious but excited.”
None of this makes sense. And the more I think about it, the more I go over today’s events, the more confused I get while my friend and business partner struggles to survive. Cole senses my anguish and takes me in his arms. I welcome his comfort, his strength.
For a moment, I am safe.
“It’ll be alright,” he says. “Jamie was conscious at one point when they brought him in. Maybe he didn’t ingest enough poison for it to be lethal.”
“God, I hope you’re right…”
Finally, the ER medic comes out and takes his gloves off, tossing them in the nearest bin. Cole and I both get up, eager to hear what he has to say.
“How’s Jamie?” I ask, my voice trembling with emotion.
“Stable so far,” the doctor says. “We suspect strychnine poisoning, but we’re still waiting on the lab results to confirm. It wasn’t enough to kill him, fortunately. We’re giving him ample fluids to flush it from his system. He should make a full recovery.”
Cole’s phone rings. He takes the call, and I catch a glimpse of Toby’s name on the caller ID.
“He doesn’t have any immediate family here in New York. Can I go in to see him?” I ask the doctor.
“They’ve just finished pumping his stomach. I’d say give him a few more minutes,” he says. “But I don’t think it should be a problem. Just wait until they move him out of the emergency room and into a room.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Cole gets off the phone with a dark look on his face. I have a feeling the worst of this nightmare is yet to come.
“They tested Jamie’s plate,” he says, “then Toby remembered that he took all of your shrimp because you weren’t going to eat it, so they tested your plate, too.”
“No.” I already know what he’s about to say because the thought had crossed my mind, as well.
“There were traces of strychnine on top of your rice. The shrimp from your plate was poisoned, not Jamie’s. His shrimp was fine. The poison was added into the sauce that your shrimp was served with. That’s where they got the highest markers, nowhere else.”
“Cole, oh God…”
“Somebody tried to poison you, Willow.”
The rage coming off him in waves sends shivers down my spine.