Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Just when the house was quiet and calm restored, Quinn’s car pulled up to the kerb. Kya, who’d just come in from the pool, caught a glimpse of the yellow convertible through the kitchen window. In her swimsuit and soggy flip-flops, she rushed out to greet her, flinging the door wide open. The words that flew out of her mouth made no sense.
‘Adrian needed stitches. We ended up at a hotel-type hospital. Then he took a day off, which never happens, so I hung out with him at the museum, that new modern art one. Anyway, forget it. I’m sorry, and I’m glad you stopped by because I meant to apologize properly, like face to face, and not on a dumb DM.’
Met with Quinn’s stone-cold indifference, Kya abruptly shut up. Silence ballooned around them, taking the breath out of her lungs. She waited for any reaction on Quinn’s part. When she finally spoke, it was a relief.
Quinn held out her hand. ‘You forgot this.’
Kya gasped at the sight of Adrian’s extra set of house keys. In her rush to escape, like a baby, she’d left them behind.
‘Thank you!’ she cried. ‘I was in such a hurry, I forgot.’
‘Cool,’ Quinn said. ‘Now take them. I’m in a hurry, too.’
Kya dutifully collected the keys, all the while rambling, ‘I really am sorry, Quinn.’
Quinn spun on her platform heels and marched off. It struck Kya that she was dressed for work in her bodysuit and black miniskirt. Kya couldn’t move, couldn’t put one foot ahead of the other. She just stood on the porch, arms limp at her side, watching the most thrilling woman she’d ever met drive away.
You stupid girl …
Kya raced back into the house, the door slamming shut behind her. She wasted a good fifteen minutes searching the web for Quinn’s event. Coming up short, she gave up and sought out a more reliable source of information than Google.
Hugo was in his art studio, a converted den bathed in natural light. An essential oil diffuser perfumed the air. He sat at his desk and appeared invested in his work. Kya was sorry to disturb him, but not so sorry she’d change course. The computer monitor displayed a colourful design. Although the concept was cutting-edge, the design app was ancient.
‘There’s better software out there,’ she said. ‘I’ll hook you up.’
‘Don’t bother,’ he said, pushing his mouse away. ‘I’m over this. I might pivot to interiors.’
‘You should,’ she said. ‘Look what you did with this house. I saw the before and after pics. Impressive. And Quinn loves it.’
‘Quinn’s a sweetheart.’
Kya felt a fresh rush of queasiness. She leaned on the desk for support. ‘Quinn’s pissed at me.’
‘For what?’
It was no surprise to Kya that he’d forgotten. Everything that occurred before Adrian’s injury was deleted from his mind.
‘For leaving the way I did!’
‘Right … What was that about?’
Well, in a nutshell, it was about Kya being chickenshit. She didn’t have time to get into it. ‘I have to apologize.’
‘Okay. Do that.’
‘She’s working today, and I don’t know where. Last time we spoke, she mentioned a private event. Could that be it?’
‘Hold on.’
Hugo tapped into his network of friends and produced an answer within minutes. ‘The Glass Lounge, a members-only club. I’ve been. It’s boring.’
Boring or not, Kya had to go there and … do what? She’d figure it out in time.
‘Where is it?’ she asked. ‘Can I borrow your car?’
‘You can’t just walk in there, Kya. It’s a private party.’
‘Haven’t you ever crashed a party before?’ she asked.
‘A few … but who would turn me away?’
It clicked. Hugo was her diplomatic passport, her all-access pass. ‘Come with me. Let’s do it together.’
‘Can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m cooking tonight. I don’t want Adrian anywhere near the kitchen.’
‘Please,’ she implored. ‘We won’t stay long. I’d feel more comfortable crashing a party with you.’
‘One hour,’ he granted. ‘I really want A to relax tonight.’
‘You and me both!’
Hugo locked his computer screen and rose from the desk. ‘Let’s get changed,’ he said. ‘If we’re going to do this, it helps to look hot.’
The Glass Lounge was an atrium in a downtown office tower. They showed up looking a little too hot, judging by the expression on the elderly doorman’s face. Hugo, in a white linen shirt and coordinating trousers, looked as if he were about to board a yacht. Kya had unearthed her one little black dress, made of a square of Spandex. Just when she thought her all-access pass would be denied, Hugo said, ‘We’re with Quinn.’
‘Yeah? Who’s that?’ the doorman asked.
‘The DJ,’ Hugo answered.
The doorman appeared unconvinced.
Kya patted her empty clutch purse. ‘We have her music on a flash drive. If we don’t get it to her fast, you won’t have a party.’
‘You hear that? I think we have a party now.’
‘You’ll hear the same ten songs all night, if that’s what you want,’ Hugo said.
‘It’s a cocktail party. Ten songs might be enough.’
‘Why are you giving us a hard time?’ Hugo asked. ‘Does it look like we’re here for the shrimp cocktail?’
‘It’s good shrimp,’ he said with a wink. ‘I wouldn’t blame you.’
Kya threw up her hands. He was just toying with them at this point. Then some very important-looking men arrived, and he no longer had time for them. ‘You’ve got ten minutes. Go.’
‘Thanks, man,’ Hugo said. ‘That’s all we need.’
He waved them through. Kya wanted to find Quinn straight away, but Hugo insisted they take a brief detour at the bar. ‘You’re tense,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to loosen up.’
‘How can I?’ Kya took in the crowd of men and women in various interpretations of the classic business suit. She couldn’t imagine Quinn having fun performing for this stale crowd. ‘Look at where we are. Someone is going to try to sell us crypto any minute.’
‘It’s a lawyer mixer.’
Kya shuddered. ‘Why would Quinn take this gig?’
‘It’s a job.’
‘True.’
How na?ve of her to think anyone could escape the grind. Quinn had bills to pay, like everyone else. Tonight, her music served as a soft backdrop. No beat drops, no sudden races in tempo. It filled gaps in stalled conversations and pumped life into an otherwise lifeless room. And yet Quinn’s sound was distinct, unmistakable.
Drinks secured, they rehashed the plan.
‘We get this done and get out of here,’ Hugo said. ‘The clock is ticking. We wasted a quarter hour circling the block for parking.’
‘Should we synchronize our watches?’ Kya asked.
‘You’re stalling,’ he said. ‘Go say you’re sorry and come find me. I’ll be here, waiting. No, actually … I’ll be over there.’ He pointed in the direction of a woman waving at him from the far end of the bar. ‘Catching up with an old client and seeing about new work.’
‘I thought you were pivoting to interiors!’
‘I’ll pivot tomorrow.’
With no Quinn in sight, Kya followed the music. The sound was pumped in through hidden speakers, which were of no help. However, the atrium gave way to a courtyard where a smaller, more casual crowd was gathered. She spotted Quinn, on a podium.
Head down, headphones on, she rocked as she worked. Kya’s lack of a plan was now a problem. Quinn was working. How could she disturb her? But she’d come all this way.
When a cocktail waiter bumped into her, Kya shook him down for a pen and a piece of paper. She scribbled a note and had him deliver it, all while hiding behind a potted palm to make sure Quinn received it. Then she found Hugo and interrupted his meeting with his old client.
‘That was quick,’ he said. ‘We’re good?’
‘I think so.’
All she had to go on was the half-smile that tugged at one corner of Quinn’s mouth as she skimmed the note. Somehow that half-smile was the whole universe.
Q, I like you a little too much, and it scares me.
Forgive me?
K.