Bound by Suggestion (23 page)

“That guy—” Jeff indicated Timberly, “hates your guts. Did you steal his Tinker Toys?”

Richard eyed Timberly. “Not yet.”

Jeff glanced around the room. “Whatever’s going down, everybody’s on your side—not his. They want to see the bastard fry.”

Richard didn’t comment. It was too complicated.

“Just out of curiosity, did you ever tell Krista about Maggie?”

Richard frowned. “No. Why?”

Jeff waved it off and sat back in his chair, pale and sweating. That little bit of insight on Timberly had cost him. What else was he being bombarded with?

Richard tapped Brenda’s shoulder, leaning close to speak quietly. “Can you look after Jeff tonight?”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Will you trust me not to run off with him?”

Richard frowned. “He brought a date.”

“Well, then you’re safe.”

He stared at her. The corners of her mouth struggled to contain a smile.

Brenda glanced over at Krista, who was engaged in animated conversation with Fred Morris, then turned back. “But I agree with you. The lady shrink seems interested in anything but her date.” She shrugged. “And between the attention I’m getting from the two of you, I can see I’m going to have a rip-roaring evening, too.”

Richard leaned closer, dropped his voice to a whisper. “Toronto. Next weekend. A play. Shopping at The Bay.”

“Dinner at Angelo’s?” Brenda suggested.

“All the garlic you can stand.”

Her smile’s wattage increased. “You’ve got a deal.”

“One might think you were easily bribed.”

Brenda pinched his cheek, like his grandmother had done decades before. “Only by you, my sweet, only by you.”

The food
wasn’t bad for banquet fare—steamship round and all the accoutrements. But I had no appetite, pushing my plate away after only a few bites.

Weird thoughts flitted through my mind—there one moment, gone the next. It made concentrating on the conversations crisscrossing the table impossible, the voices merging into an incessant buzz. Someone would speak to me; I’d look at them in confusion. Brenda covered for me, but Richard’s friends and colleagues were sure to think I was a moron. Krista, who’d embarked on a one-woman campaign of blatant self-promotion, either didn’t notice or ignored my distress.

The catering staff cleared the table before the speeches began. The master of ceremonies, a balding portly man nearly bursting the seams of this tux, introduced Mona Humphrey. Her snowy hair blazed under the white hot spot, her voice droned on and on until the words became a din. I applauded when appropriate, taking my cues from others at the table.

The Foundation’s director called several people to join her at the podium—new committee chairs, I guessed, and each gave an impromptu speech. Finally, she called Richard’s name. The applause was thunderous. I rolled my eyes to the left and saw Timberly’s jaw tighten; he clapped, albeit slowly.

Richard pushed back his chair, then walked with confidence to the dais. The audience quieted.

“Buffalo is a city of generosity—”

You’re a worthless shit
, something whispered in my brain.

“Working together, we’re making it a place where everyone has affordable, quality medical care—”

Ugly.

“—new diagnostic equipment, new surgical techniques—”

Nobody wants you.

I closed my eyes. Nausea rose as a wave of overwhelming malevolence slammed into me—stealing my breath—so powerful I couldn’t focus on its source.

The room grayed, then wobbled. I clamped my teeth together. My tongue felt swollen. The roaring in my ears blotted out all else. I gripped the table. Eyes still on the podium, Brenda reached for my arm, her touch an instant buffer against the onslaught of roiling darkness.

I could breathe again.

Her hand snaked down to grasp mine; her cool fingers curled around my damp palm. She squeezed it, infusing me with such a jolt of love and affection—for Richard—that I could’ve cried.

She glanced at me, smiled encouragingly and, grateful for the release from torment, I managed a weak smile in return.

Applause broke out again. I searched the faces of those sitting nearby, but the hatred someone had projected at my brother was gone—and so was Timberly.

Richard finished his speech. I applauded with the rest of the audience. Richard seemed to be looking directly at me.

What had I missed?

The main lights came on and the band that had been setting up in the corner struck up a tune:
Satin Doll
. . . or it maybe it was
Indecision
.

Krista got up, taking Dr. Galric’s hand, and glided onto the dance floor. She was breathtaking, her every movement effortlessly choreographed. The antithesis of Grace.

Brenda’s voice was drowned out by the music. She moved her chair closer to mine.

I leaned down, almost shouting to be heard. “Did Rich get the job?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“I’ll explain later. How are you doing, hon?”

I forced a smile. “Same old, same old.”

“Are you gonna make it?” Her worried eyes met mine. She cared. Krista didn’t.

“Sure.”

Brenda turned her attention back to a crowd on the edge of the dance floor where Richard held court. Her mouth drooped. “Damn. Just like old times,” she said and sighed. “Socializing for dollars. I’d hoped those days were behind us for good.”

“Brenda,” Richard mouthed, his voice lost in the din. He gestured for her to join him.

Brenda forced a smile. “Looks like I’m back on stage.”

Good old Brenda. I hoped Richard knew just how lucky he was.

The tune ended. Krista and her partner moved to join another group of party-goers. Soon she was engaged in another jovial conversation with well-heeled men in tuxes. She threw back her head and laughed.

Like a wallflower, I sat alone at the table for eight.

A massive oak bar took up a portion of the back wall. I got up, gravitating toward it. The bartender was busy, but I wasn’t in a hurry.

A dark-haired man, on the verge of middle-age, wandered up to stand beside me. “You’re Richard Alpert’s brother. Jeff, right?”

“Yeah.” Had I already been introduced to this guy?

“Glenn Connelly,” he said, and shoved a hand in my direction.

I stared at it too long. He frowned, about to withdraw it when I snapped to attention and took it.

And winced.

He wanted new equipment in the biochem lab. Did he actually think sucking up to me would get it?

I exhaled, the throbbing in my temples banged away with mechanical precision.

“Resnick,” Connelly repeated doubtfully, as though evaluating a new strain of bacteria. “That’s a Jewish name, isn’t it?”

“Richard and I are half brothers,” I told the anti-Semitic bastard. Definitely not the way to suck up.

“What line of work are you in?” he asked.

“I’m a bartender.”

Bingo! That look of incredulity, followed by contempt—and of course pity for Richard. How embarrassing to have a ne’er-do-well sibling. Yeah, tending bar put me much lower on the food chain than an internist.

“Actually, I do a lot—” Okay, not a lot. “of freelance photography.”

He nodded.

I’d come up with the proper response too late to impress him.

“You must be proud of your brother,” he said.

“Why, because he can talk people into giving away their money?”

Connelly’s eyes narrowed. “That money makes it possible for us to treat people who can’t afford health care. To buy equipment tax dollars used to pay for.”

I forced a smile. “Had you going for a minute there, didn’t I?”

Connelly gave me a look of disgust, but then, I deserved it.

“Excuse me,” I said, and I made my way to the other end of the bar. “Double Makers Mark, on the rocks.” In seconds a glass sat before me. I stuffed a dollar tip in the oversized snifter and picked up the glass. Shitfaced, here I come.

I took a good hit, letting that fine bourbon lay on my tongue for no more than a second. I wasn’t in this for the ascetic experience; I wanted to get potted as quickly as possible.

You stupid useless thing
.

I rolled the glass between my palms. Talk about being shallow, who was I to deny Richard the limelight . . . just because it was my stupid birthday. Richard who’d been a dazzling star all his life—me, who never had.

Shame burned my cheeks. Realizing you’re acting like a shit doesn’t necessarily mean you can stop. At least I’d had the good grace to keep my mouth shut.

Well, mostly.

I glanced at the mirror behind the back-bar and saw Krista’s reflection as she danced with creepy Dr. Timberly. Had she forgotten I was her escort?

And what was Maggie doing on the rest of this fine Saturday night? Did good old Doug take her to a show? Had he bought her that enticing little number she’d been wearing? Would they top off the evening with a sexual romp?

Krista stood still on the dance floor, her back to me. Timberly held her in his arms, whispered in her ear. Her rigid stance told me she wasn’t happy with whatever it was he told her.

So why should I care?

I sipped my bourbon and reconsidered getting drunk. I really didn’t want to embarrass Richard. This was his night and he deserved the recognition. I could wait until I got home to indulge myself—hell, it was
my
birthday.

I was staring into my half-empty glass when a dark hand touched my arm. “You’ve been very quiet tonight,” Brenda said.

“Just thinking. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose—knowing massaging around my tired eyes couldn’t ease that all-too familiar ache in my skull.

“Your face looks pinched.”

“I can live with it.”

She glanced at the crowd, lowered her voice. “I’ve mingled with people a lot more important and a lot richer than these and felt a whole lot more comfortable. Have you noticed the only other African-Americans here are with the catering staff?”

“One of the guests reminded me I have a Jewish name.”

Brenda frowned. “Looks like neither of us fits in.”

A woman in a red-sequined cocktail dress walked by, gave us the eye. Appearances were everything with this crowd, and I’d promised Richard he would not be ashamed of me.

“Come on.” I snagged Brenda’s elbow, steered her away from the bar. “Let’s go back to the table.”

Brenda sighed. “I’d much rather go home and watch old Star Trek episodes.”

I smiled. “Me, too.”

“I see a marathon in our futures. I’ve got the DVDs. What incarnation?”

“Let’s start at the beginning,” I said, although I couldn’t see that every happening.

She took my hand, infused me with a jolt of affection, but her touch was all too brief and I found myself following her to the table and counting the minutes until the torture would finally be over for both of us.

Torture.

Yeah, I wanted it all to be over—forever.

Penny’s dangling earrings sparkled in the fractured light from the rotating disco ball in the ceiling. “I hear you’re going to be a papa in the not-too-distant future,” she said.

The music blared as Richard led her around the dance floor. “Early October.”

“You’ll make a nice daddy.” Penny stepped on Richard’s toe. “Sorry, Doc.”

His smile was still firmly pasted in place. “Do you have children?”

Penny sighed, wistfully. “My ex and I divorced before we got around to kids.”

That was a conversation Richard didn’t want to enter. Besides, Penny didn’t seem at a loss for male company. She wasn’t a skilled dancer, but that hadn’t been why Richard had bided his time for his chance to take her out onto the dance floor.

“I understand that the changeover for the new committee chairs is June first,” he said, changing the subject.

“Yup. Good luck getting Doctor Timberly’s files. He’s a poor loser.”

“You hinted that the other day, but you didn’t go into specifics.”

Penny’s eyes narrowed. “Mona doesn’t like me to repeat gossip.” That said, it wasn’t going to stop her, either. “A couple of years ago, Dr. Bahskar was asked to leave the hospital staff. This was right after he crossed Dr. Timberly at a staff meeting. He accused Dr. Timberly of double and triple billing the insurance companies, but the computer crashed, destroying the records. Right after that, Bahskar’s practice went to hell. Stupid mistakes, mostly. Wrong prescriptions, mixed up charts. One of his patients nearly died. Big lawsuit. I heard he had to go out of state to find another job,” she finished, her tone conspiratorial.

“That’s too bad.”

Penny stepped on his toes—again.

“He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last. I’m not saying that Dr. Timberly actually acts against the people who get in his way,” Penny continued, “but it’s sure funny how all of them seem to suffer afterwards.”