“I see Marcel!” Bambi twittered. “He’s supposed to be an amazing key to draw.”
“Really, why?” Sofia didn’t want to imagine drawing whippet-thin and snotty Marcel’s key.
“He is supposed to have mad skills,” Bambi said. “And he’s very flexible.”
There was a mental picture Sofia couldn’t unsee.
“Good luck!” Sofia said.
Bambi bounced off toward the deck.
“They have strawberries and pineapple at the chocolate fountain,” Sofia said. “That’s my next stop.”
“What kind of drugs do you think they have here?” Aidan asked.
“Coke.” She skewered a pineapple piece and held it in the cascading chocolate. “Ecstasy. Pot.”
“But...” He didn’t seem to know what to say.
“Try a strawberry,” she said. “The chocolate is amazing.”
“We should go.”
“The drugs are probably in the kitchen,” she said. “If you want to go do a raid. But it’s nothing to do with water rustling, which is the real reason we are here.”
Aidan ate a strawberry without chocolate.
She tried a mango slice with chocolate. Every bit as good as the pineapple. “I think we can guess why Narek hates Marcel now. Sounds like Marcel was sleeping with Milena and Narek didn’t like it.”
“Such a little pig of a man.” Aidan did a fair job with the French accent.
Sofia laughed.
Behind them, a bell rang. People started gathering in the living room.
Mr. Purple called from the middle of the living room. “It’s time!”
Aidan went stiff. He looked panicked. She ought to put him out of his misery.
Nah.
CHAPTER 21
Sofia waited calmly next to Aidan. He was practically hyperventilating. She wondered if she ought to get him a paper bag.
“Go first and get my key,” he said.
“There’s a line,” she pointed out. “And I don’t get to stir around in there and pick out the key I want. It’s random.”
“It is?” Aidan watched Bambi pull out the first key.
Bambi’s key had a Mercedes symbol on it.
“Mine,” said Marcel.
Bambi turned to him with a giggle that shook her breasts. He took her arm and led her outside. Sofia would have expected them to go into one of the bedrooms. But maybe Marcel was more of a back-to-nature kinda guy.
Annabelle and Rick Pankhurst weren’t part of the key-drawing crowd. She wondered how many people had cheated and picked a partner before the key drawing. She should have counted heads.
Did picking someone deliberately, instead of randomly through the key draw, mean there was a relationship there? If so, were Annabelle and Rick more serious about each other? It didn’t seem as if Marcel cared or noticed.
Had Narek and Milena come to parties like this? Based on Annabelle’s comments about Narek, she thought they must have. It seemed to suit Milena’s personality, but not Narek’s. Wife swapping could definitely cause friction among neighbors.
Aidan touched her shoulder. “We’re not doing this.”
“How are you going to get your key?”
“At this point,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind walking home.”
She drained her wineglass. “The way you drive, it’d be faster to walk anyway.”
He glared at her. “I’m serious. Let’s go.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said. “This stuff is all consensual. These folks aren’t a prison rape gang. Unless, you know, the woman who gets your keys is into that.”
While they’d been arguing, several women had drawn keys and headed out to various parts of the house. Only about half the crowd was left now. They all leaned forward, eyes glued on the bowl.
It reminded her of being picked for kickball team at school. Sure, you probably weren’t going to be picked first, but nobody wanted to get picked last. Only the worst players got picked last. Maybe this wasn’t as random as she’d thought. Maybe the best players of this game had already been picked.
“Sofia,” Aidan said. “I mean it.”
He’d crossed his arms and a muscle was jumping in his jaw. She hoped he didn’t have blood pressure problems. He probably would have had an aneurysm by now if he had.
“OK,” she said. “Watch this.”
She’d already secreted Aidan’s keys in her sleeve. She sashayed up to the bowl, taking her time so the men in the party could get a good look at her. That was clearly the protocol. A few guys whistled and she thought she heard an exasperated sigh from Aidan.
She slowly dipped her hand into the bowl. She’d done something similar in the show, and she was pretty confident it would work, but she wiggled her butt to direct everyone’s attention down there. Then she let Aidan’s key slide down her sleeve, under her cuff, and onto her palm. She wondered how many other women were using the same trick.
She held the keys up high. Aidan’s face lit up when he spotted his yellow flashlight in her hands. He’d never been so happy to see her holding on to anything, she suspected.
“Mine.” He practically sprinted to the front of the room.
“Hi,” Sofia said. “Partner.”
“Let’s go,” he hissed under his breath.
“Downstairs,” suggested a tall man built like a linebacker. “First door on your left. You’ll like it.”
Scattered applause moved around the room at his suggestion. They must have gotten the lucky room.
Aidan tugged her elbow and tilted his head toward the parking lot. He was clearly done with the party.
But she was there to investigate, and that room sounded like a great place to start.
She closed her fingers around the key and trotted down the stairs. Grumbling, Aidan followed. The conversations from the crowd faded away behind them.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” she asked.
“No.” He wasn’t even trying to be a good sport.
She opened the door and went inside. The room was dark and it took her a few seconds to find the light switch, fingers groping across a wall that felt curiously soft.
When she clicked the light on, Aidan let out a low whistle.
They were in a dungeon sex room. Handcuffs and different kinds of whips hung from the walls on ornate hooks. A brass four-poster bed with a thin mattress stood in one corner. It was made up with black sheets that looked silk. Another corner showcased two latex suits and a container of baby powder. Gray acoustic foam lined the walls, soundproofing the room.
“Great,” Sofia said. “It’s fifty shades of perv.”
CHAPTER 22
Sofia made a slow circuit of the room while Aidan stayed in the middle with his hands in his pockets, as if he was afraid to touch anything.
Sofia’s phone chimed. She took it out of her pocket, and Aidan came over to look at it. It was a text from Emily: Are you going out with the horse hunk tonight?
Sofia was standing right next to the latex suits. They creeped her out and she stepped away. It felt weird to be texting Emily from this room.
“Are you?” Aidan asked. “Are you going out with Action Jaxon tonight?”
“How could I top all this excitement?” She typed an answer to Emily: He has a show tonight.
Aidan read over her shoulder. “So, you’re the only one in this place not hooking up tonight? That’s sad.”
“You sound pretty confident about how your date with Taylor is going to come out,” she said. “Is that on her dating profile, too?”
“Figure of speech,” Aidan said. “How long do you think we need to stay in here?”
“I guess that depends on your perceived stamina.” She looked over at the bed. It looked like an oil slick. “Five minutes?”
Aidan looked offended. “That isn’t even a warmup. I’d say at least half an hour. Or longer.”
“I don’t want to stay down here half an hour just to make you look good,” she said.
“Why not?
It’s not like you have another appointment.” Aidan had retreated back to the exact center of the room, as far away from all the furnishings as possible.
She touched the smallest whip. It was real leather. How much did something like that cost? Weren’t the Beforts worried about someone stealing all these gadgets?
“Don’t touch that thing,” Aidan said sharply. “You don’t know where it’s been.”
She let go of the whip. He was probably right. She didn’t even want to think about where the whip had been.
“Do you suppose they have the room bugged?” She glanced around at the gray walls, looking for a hidden camera. She didn’t see one, but that didn’t mean anything. Cameras could be embedded in anything these days.
“Like for blackmail purposes?” He started looking around, too, clearly happy to have something to do.
“Or to give us our own personal sex tape,” she said. It didn’t have to be sinister, but maybe it was. Maybe that was why Narek Grigoryan disliked Marcel Befort so much. “Something we could watch on boring nights.”
Aidan blushed again. Maybe it was the lighting. She touched a pair of handcuffs with one finger, calculating. One side was handcuffed to a pole next to the wall, and the other side was free. Really, it was going to be all about speed.
“What’s this thing?” She pointed to a dot on the wall next to the pole.
When Aidan came over to look, she grabbed his wrist and handcuffed him to the pole.
She stepped out of reach and grinned at him. “Gotcha.”
“Not funny,” he said.
Watching him stand there and glare at her in the dungeon room was the funniest thing she’d seen in a long time.
“Stop laughing,” he said. “And help me out of this.”
“What’s the magic word?” she asked.
“Sofia! Damn it, let me out.”
That didn’t sound very magical. “Remember when you handcuffed me at the office and I had to pick the lock while talking to clients?”
“Please.” He turned his big blue eyes on her. That usually worked.
She looked on the wall next to him. “I don’t see a key.”
Aidan went through a long string of curse words. He sure hadn’t learned those from his dad.
“I have a bobby pin,” she said. “I carry one in my wallet all the time now.”
She took it out, bent it forty-five degrees, and handed it to him. He started working on the lock.
“Are you sure you can get it open?” she asked.
“Of course I can,” he said. “I’m not an infant.”
She walked back over to the door. She felt a little guilty at abandoning him here handcuffed to a wall, but he had it coming, and he’d get the lock open faster than she would. She opened the door a crack.
“I think the band is louder than before,” she called over her shoulder.
“They’re definitely louder than the string quartet at the Grigoryan’s house.” Aidan crowded next to her. He was fast with the lock picking. Too bad.
The noise of the band abruptly cut off as if a plug had been pulled.
“Let’s go see what that’s about,” Aidan said.
“Not worried about getting a reputation for poor stamina?” she asked.
He gave her a withering look and headed down the hall. She closed the door carefully and followed.
Marcel stood in front of the stage with his back to them waving his arms and yelling at a policeman. Marcel was completely naked, and his butt was as tan as the rest of him. He must sunbathe in the nude. That fit with his personality—no point in hiding any part of his perfect body.
She picked up the pace. She didn’t want to miss a second of this.
“—my own land,” Marcel said. “I can do as I wish here.”
“Please put some pants on, sir.” The policeman was young, early twenties, with a blond crewcut. His face was bright red. He clearly wasn’t used to dealing with naked Frenchmen.
“I shall not.” Marcel crossed his arms across his bare chest. His semi-erect penis bounced whenever he moved, like a little exclamation point at the end of each sentence.
“As I said before, we’ve had some noise complaints.” The officer was trying to stay on task. She felt sorry for him.
“Precisely one, I imagine.” Annabelle came out of the house with Rick Pankhurst in tow. She was fully dressed. Even her hair looked perfect. It probably always did. “Grigoryan Vineyards.”
“Do you have a permit for a rock band?” The police officer turned to speak to her, probably to stop Marcel’s you-know-what from pointing straight at him. “At this time of day—”
“Do we have a permit?” Annabelle asked Marcel. His penis got a little more confident. “Mon cochon?”
Sofia was pretty sure her endearment meant ‘my pig.’ Not the sweetest term.
“We do not need such a thing,” Marcel answered. “This is a free country.”
“Technically,” Aidan said. “There are all kinds of laws.”
Marcel turned his glare and his bouncing penis toward Aidan. Aidan stepped back a pace.
“Don’t point that thing at me,” Aidan said.
“It is my property and my cock. I shall point it wherever I wish,” Marcel answered.
“Vive la nudité!” Sofia called out.
Marcel gave a single sharp nod, and Annabelle smiled. The cop ran his hand through his bristly crew cut.
“Not helpful,” Aidan said. “Anti-helpful.”
A Mercedes tore up the driveway. Narek drove and a frowning Milena sat in the passenger’s seat. Everyone’s attention shifted from Marcel to the car.
Narek screeched to a stop and jumped out. He strode across the driveway shaking his fist. His barrel chest stuck out like a rooster’s.
Someone ought to make a reality TV show out of this. They could pixelate out the bits that couldn’t be shown on TV. They could call it Virile Vineyards. She bet her agent, Jeffrey, could pitch it and make a fortune.
Milena trundled up behind Narek. She took a good long look at Marcel, and his penis wilted. That relationship was definitely over. Milena’s frown deepened, but Annabelle smiled.
“How does it feel?” Narek asked. “To be treated as you would treat me?”
“You spout nonsense. As usual.” Marcel uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists.
“You call the police on a string quartet,” Narek said. “But you’re surprised when I do the same after you have set up a rock and roll band and a stage? People can hear you all the way down to Malibu. You break the law, and you don’t care. And now I will watch you get what you deserve.”
Narek brought up his fists, too. If Sofia were going to bet, she’d bet on Narek. He looked stronger and angrier, but Marcel had reach on him, so it might be an even match.
Milena took an uncertain step toward her husband. She’d probably come along to keep him out of trouble while he watched the cops cite Marcel.
“Let’s take this down a notch.” The policeman stepped between the two vineyard owners. “How about you wait in your car, sir? I’ll issue a noise citation, and we can all go back to our evening’s fun?”
Not very decisive, Sofia thought, and apparently the vineyard owners agreed, because neither budged an inch.
Milena looked around at the party, and her gaze ended up on Annabelle.
“We’ve never missed a party,” she said in a sad voice.
Annabelle raised a single, imperious eyebrow and gave Milena a look cold enough to freeze white wine.
“I will accept no citation,” Marcel said. “This boudin cannot bring down the law on me.”
What was a boudin? She wanted to whip out her phone and look it up, but she didn’t want to miss any of the drama. Whatever it meant, it must have been bad, because Narek popped Marcel right in the nose.
Marcel swung wildly back at him. Narek grabbed ahold of Marcel’s dong and yanked on it like he was starting a lawnmower. Marcel let out a squeal that made him sound like his pet name, t
he little pig.
CHAPTER 23
A idan jumped forward and grabbed Narek and dragged him back. As soon as Aidan pinned Narek’s arms, Marcel jumped forward and punched Narek right in the face. It wasn’t very sporting, but Narek had rung his doorbell, so she could see where he was coming from. The policeman seemed to think so too, because he let Marcel land a couple of punches before he intervened and got Marcel’s arms behind his back. She noted that Aidan had gone for the guy wearing clothes, not the naked one, and saved that up for some future joke.
Milena rushed over to Marcel, her round face crumpled with worry.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
Narek snarled, and Aidan tightened his grip. Sofia couldn’t blame Narek for being angry about that. After all, Milena was Narek’s wife, and she ought to be checking on him first.
Annabelle pushed Milena away. “See to your own husband. I shall see to mine.”
Annabelle pulled a white cotton handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at Marcel’s bloody nose. Perfectly dressed, and she carried a hankie. She was a casting director’s dream.
“Do you need some ice?” Annabelle asked. “For your own little self?”
That was a good euphemism, and Sofia made a mental note to remember it.
Milena still didn’t go over to Narek. She stared at Marcel. He ignored her completely.
“I’ll kill you,” Narek said, presumably to Marcel. “You’ve taken all you will take from me.”
“I take only that which is freely given.” Marcel glanced at Milena and then back at Narek. He smiled. “Most freely.”
Narek lunged, but Aidan had a pretty good grip on him. He was trying to pull him back toward the car, but Narek was resisting and trying to get to Marcel. Aidan was pretty strong, but Narek had weight on his side.
“Easy now,” Aidan said. “Let’s go sit in the car and think things over a bit.”
“He’s stealing my water!” Narek roared. “Thousands of dollars worth.”
“You’re stealing that from me,” Marcel answered. “As you well know.”
D is for Drunk Page 10
