CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 41
The second building across the street contained a very large reception hall, which tonight was reserved for the music festival’s opening night reception. Ian’s companions made a happy crowd by the entrance, clustered out of the way so as not to block the incoming VIPs. Connor stood surrounded by his band, with the backup trio towering over them, their smiles competing with the chandeliers. Arthur and Danny and Megan and Graham and Rafi. And Kari. Ian slowed his movements for the cameras tracking his every step. He kissed Kari’s cheek. Shook Connor’s hand. Thanked them all for coming. Accepted their compliments in return. He leaned in close to Kari’s ear and explained he needed to do a circuit alone. He then motioned Connor close, mostly so he could enjoy a moment of seeing the man’s cloudless gaze. Asked him to serve as the lady’s companion. Then together they entered the main room.
The din was so fierce he could not hear a word anyone said. Nor did he need to. The light in people’s gazes, the smiles, the way they reached out. Wanting to connect. Wanting to share their own joy.
He did the requisite parade, twice meeting up with Saban so the journalists could shoot them together. He smiled for countless selfies.
Ian finally reached Kiki Kerkorian. The festival director stood on the bar’s far side, allowing people to approach her as they would a ruling monarch. She lifted one cheek for him to kiss, drew him around so they could smile for the cameras, then pulled him back two paces into a storage alcove.
In the relative quiet, she said, “Israel is over the moon.”
“I think it went well.”
“It did more than that. Wherever did your encore come from?”
“Israel suggested it. I jumped at the idea.”
“Your playing together was both intimate and sublime.” She glanced behind him. “Quite a crowd you brought with you.”
“They’re playing with me tomorrow night.”
“I thought as much. Who’s the lovely lady?”
“Kariel. The artist.”
She stepped forward, far enough to study the lady. “So that’s really her.”
“Come to the gala. I’ll introduce you.”
“Of course I’m coming.” Her gaze tightened. “Are you two an item?”
“No comment.”
“This night is just full of surprises.”
Ian asked, “Would you do me a favor?”
“You’ve caught me in the disadvantage of a rare good mood. Ask away.”
“Make a fuss over Connor at the gala. He’s nervous. I want him to feel like he’s really the star attraction tomorrow.”
“You want me to charm a movie star. What a hard gig.”
“Is that a yes?”
* * *
Three limos were waiting outside the main entrance, the drivers all holding illuminated signs bearing Kari’s name, ready to sweep them off to the gala. The night carried an exquisite feel; Ian assumed Kari felt it as well from how she refused to stop smiling. Ian had so much he wanted to say, about the music and the performance and what it meant to have her there. But in the end it was enough to ride in silence, smiling at comments by Rafi and Graham, and hold her hand.
The Miami Beach Convention Center’s second floor was home to the largest ballroom in Florida. The downstairs lobby and bar were all packed. The band played a good version of Latin salsa. The grand staircase leading up to the ballroom formed a curving velvet entry to the gala.
Ian’s first conscious hint of something being seriously wrong was when an unseen man up ahead barked.
Instantly, Kari jerked her hand away from his and froze.
When Ian turned, he faced a frightened child. “What is it?”
The man’s bark was clearer now. And his fury. “Get out of my way!”
Ian did not need to see Kari retreat down another step to understand. The description she had shared of her awful childhood, the terror she had felt toward that man and his rages . . .
He told a wide-eyed Rafi, “You and Graham take Kari back to the bar.” He then turned to Connor and added, “Don’t let anyone near her until you see me signal.”
Connor nodded. “On it.”
Ian turned to Megan and Danny and Arthur, but before he could speak, the attorney said, “Go, Ian. We’ll keep Kari safe.”
He nodded and faced the three ladies and the band. “I need your help.”
“Honey, you just name it.” Maxine.
Trish demanded, “Who’s up there making all that racket?”
Ian waited until Kari was back down at the base of the stairs to reply, “Her father.”
“Humph.” Maxine again. “That man needs a lesson in how to shut up.”
Ian started up the stairs. “I couldn’t agree more.”
As they neared the landing, Ian heard a woman say, “Sir, Mr. Langham, this event has been sold out for months—”
“I am ordering you to bring my daughter out here right now.”
“Sir, I’m trying to tell you, Ms. Langham hasn’t arrived—”
“That’s absurd. This is her show.”
“Even if she was here, we couldn’t possibly allow—”
“Enough of that. Now get out of my way!”
Ian reached the landing as a middle-aged woman in a yellow-gold sheath turned to a younger aide and said, “Call security.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Ian moved in tight, invading the man’s space. “Come with me, please.”
“I’m going nowhere but through those doors and into that—” His words were chopped short by two massive ladies grabbing his upper arms and lifting him partway off his feet.
Maxine asked, “Where do you want this garbage?”
Ian pointed to a single pair of double doors opposite the ballroom. “In there.”
Maxine and Trish kept Maxwell Langham up just high enough for his tiptoes to touch the carpet. The band members formed a human wedge and shooed people out of their way. The foyer was jammed with gawking guests, many with phones raised.
Behind him, Lucinda demanded, “What should I do with this one?”
Ian shot a glance back to where a wide-eyed Justin hovered out of reach. Ian could see traces of Kari in the handsome middle-aged man. But his crystal gaze was blunted by an avaricious gleam. Traces of the rich life were already blurring the lines of his face and frame.
Ian said, “He can come, long as he behaves.”
* * *
Kari was still recovering from the shock of hearing her father’s almost incoherent rage as they approached the lobby bar.
“Wait.”
Graham had a firm hold on her arm. Connor was keeping such a tight step behind her, he collided with her when she stopped. Rafi was almost at the bar when he realized they were not following him. Graham tugged. She tugged back. Harder. Freeing herself.
“I said wait, Graham.”
Megan was the one who asked, “What is it?”
Kari’s heart was racing so fast, she could take them all in with a single glance. Rafi scurrying back, Graham worried, Connor and Megan and Danny all ready to take on whomever she asked. Her thoughts and emotions made for a tumbling mix. Just the same, two thoughts formed with crystalline clarity.
The first was, I am surrounded by friends. Connor, Megan, Danny, Arthur, Graham, Rafi. All sharing the same stalwart concern.
The second thought she spoke aloud. “I need to go help Ian.”
Megan served as their spokesperson. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” And she was. Scared, of course. Petrified, really. But certain just the same.
The velvet-clad stairs with their brass railings made a sweeping curve before arriving at the ballroom’s foyer. This antechamber was huge, and over a hundred people milled about, chattering quietly. Music and laughter drifted through the doors leading to the ballroom. The way people kept shooting glances at the closed doors opposite told Kari where she would find them.
As she started across the foyer, a woman standing by the ballroom’s entrance called, “Ms. Langham! Kariel!”
She spoke without breaking stride. “Graham, Rafi. Please.”
Rafi told Kari, “We have this, dear. You go ahead.”
As Kari moved away, the hostess called more loudly, “Please, you really must—”
Graham stepped directly in front of the hostess and snapped, “Not now.”
As she approached the closed doors, Kari felt utterly split in two. Part of her, the old part, the hurting hidden child, was frantic to escape. Go back to playing the ghost. Find safety in remaining unseen.
The other part felt something else entirely. An overlay of calm rested upon her, so strong it muffled her nerves, as well-fitted as her Fendi. An invisible suit designed just for her, fashioned for this very moment.
The double doors were open just a crack, enough for Lucinda, one of the backup singers, to notice Kari’s approach. The lady pushed the doors open farther, allowing them entry. The room held a vast oval table set for a formal dinner, encircled by two dozen chairs. Between the table and the doors, the other two backup singers held Kari’s father.
The affray had rendered Max Langham almost incoherent with rage. He snarled at Ian, “You think you’re in trouble now? I’ll flay you alive. Your career is ruined—”
“That’s enough.” Hearing her father threaten Ian was precisely why Kari had come. Why the calm now felt like a sheath of crystalline ice. “Be quiet, Daddy.”
Max Langham was a precisely elegant man, perfectly tanned, every hair in place, hand-tailored suit, twenty-thousand-dollar watch. Gaze like a gray blade. His nickname inside the agency was the Lion King, a title he bore with pride. He was not a tall man, standing only an inch or so higher than his daughter. Always in the past, his rage had seemed to magnify his presence, building him up to immense, mountainous proportions. Just like now. “You! How dare—”
The two ladies exchanged a nod over his head. They lifted Kari’s father off his feet and shook him. Hard.
“Best hush up now,” Maxine told him. “Else we’ll dump you on the street, where you belong.”
“Sis, you’ve got to—” Justin was halted by Lucinda, who showed him a pale palm, ready to strike.
In his rattled state Max Langham tried to push his spectacles back up his nose, but his hand trembled, so he only dumped them on the carpet.
Kari heard herself calmly say, “Listen to what Ian tells you, Daddy. He speaks for me.”
“It seems pretty clear what’s brought us to this point.” Ian’s voice sounded as calmly detached as her own. “You heard about this event through your son. Who agreed to let her managers display the painting Kari gave him. But only if he could attend tonight’s gala.”
“Get your hands off—”
The ladies shook him again. Not too hard or for very long. Just enough to shut him up.
Ian continued, as if the interruption had not happened. “You probably heard some of your LA biggies were coming. So you decided to show up. Play the kingmaker. Shake a few hands. Claim the spotlight. Like it belonged to you. Like you mattered.”
Ian bent down, picked up Max’s spectacles, slipped them into his jacket pocket. Ian patted the spot on Max’s chest in time to his words. “That. Is. Not. Happening.”
Ian gave it a long beat, then continued, “This is Kari’s event. Not yours. She’s the star. And she’s not sharing the limelight with you. So now you and your son have two choices. You can apologize to your daughter, then join her entourage and follow her inside. Where you’ll play the silent, happy father for as long as you care to stay.” Ian glanced at her brother. “The same goes for you. Apologize. Behave.”
He turned back to Max. “Either that or these ladies will escort the pair of you outside and inform security you are not welcome.” He stepped back. Crossed his arms. “Which is it going to be?”