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.
Chapter 15
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.”
Yes, it was.
Someone tapped Richard’s shoulder. “May I cut in?”
Penny positively glowed for the newcomer. Young, dark-haired; what Brenda would call a hunk.
“Of course,” Penny said, and took the offered hand—which, Richard noticed, bore no wedding ring. “Catch ya later, Doc,” she said, and let herself be swept out onto the middle of the dance floor.
Since the bar was nearby, Richard stopped for another scotch. Odd, he thought, that Dr. Bahskar’s accusations were unprovable thanks to a computer glitch. If Timberly had the knowledge to crash the system himself—eliminating certain files—he probably could’ve accessed Jeff’s medical records. Or maybe he and Wally Moses been partners in crime. That would explain a lot.
But why would Wally call Richard? Had his and Timberly’s business partnership fallen apart? Had he hoped to make a quick buck by selling what he knew about Timberly? Was he playing both ends against the middle?
Too pat—too convenient. Yet . . . it seemed a plausible explanation.
Richard savored the uncut single malt. He knew he was leaping to too many conclusions. No doubt Wally had a passing acquaintance with all the hospital department heads. It would be natural he’d know Timberly, too. And how could Richard find out if the two were more than just casual business associates? Maybe Penny would know. But the bubbly redhead was too talkative. Would she tell Timberly that Richard was interested in him? Probably not. She didn’t like the man. Still, she didn’t seem to know when to keep her mouth shut, either.
No, if Richard was going to find out more about Timberly, he was going to have to consult other sources. Secretaries still knew more about the hospital goings on than other employees. He’d try Donna at the clinic first. Maybe she could point him to other possible sources.
Still, none of this speculation made sense as to why Timberly was determined to hang onto the chairmanship. The job didn’t pay, and what little prestige it garnered would only be known to the hospital community. So what was the draw?
Money.
That didn’t wash, either. The checks were always made out to the hospital foundation. Timberly couldn’t cash them. And hadn’t Jared Crain said Timberly had a rich wife? Hospital department heads made good money, in addition to their personal practices. No, money couldn’t be a motive.
Richard noticed his glass was empty and signaled the bartender for another round.
Turning, he saw Brenda and Jeff sitting back at the table. A couple of real party poopers.
Richard sipped his scotch. He wasn’t ready to pack it in just yet. Tonight would be his only chance to celebrate his victory over Timberly. No way would Wes let him take the job without some kind of fight.
So be it. But for tonight at least, Richard intended to savor the sweet taste of success.
Brenda traced her finger in a continuous figure eight on the tablecloth in time with the music. “We should’ve brought a deck of cards.”
“That would be gauche,” I told her.
She glanced up at Richard, who was speaking with yet another colleague. “I never realized how boring these banquets are until I couldn’t drink.” She looked down at her waist. “Little baby, you owe me.”
She wasn’t the only one who longed to drown her sorrows. But I knew my head would ache more if I gave in to the urge to lose myself in a bottle of bourbon.
Richard caught sight of Brenda, waved, bid good-bye to his colleague, and threaded his way across the room toward us.
“Good. Maybe now we can go home,” Brenda said.
Richard’s eyes were shining as he sat beside Brenda. “Great party, huh?”
“Lovely,” Brenda said, throwing me a sour look. “Don’t these things usually wind down by now?”
Richard glanced toward the dance floor, where a dozen or more couples clung together. “Still plenty of life left.”
Terrific.
He sipped his drink, his gaze slipping to me. “Maggie sure looked pretty tonight, didn’t she?”
“Sensational,” I agreed, noticing Krista out the corner of my eye. She stood with yet another crowd of stuffed shirts on the room’s periphery. Didn’t she know any women?
“Damn, it’s been such a hectic day, I forgot to wish you Happy Birthday,” Richard said.
I glanced at my watch: 12:02 am. “Thanks.”
“Something wrong?”
Everything.
Nothing.
“I haven’t felt well all day.” Hadn’t he noticed?
“Didn’t you recently change your medication? That could be a reason.”
“I stopped taking it. The side effects are worse than the headaches.”
“For heaven’s sake, do something about it.”
Why did he sound so irritated? It was my head that ached, not his.
I shrugged. “Too much trouble.” Everything was getting to be too much trouble.
You stupid shit.
“Doc,” a redhead in a blue dress called, motioning for Richard to follow. “They’re taking photos for the newsletter.”
“My public awaits.” Richard captured Brenda’s hand, pulling her up. They followed the woman across the ballroom.
Sweat tricked down my neck. I pulled at my collar.
A geyser of anxiety welled up in me. Suddenly I couldn’t stand to be there another minute.
I got up, heading for Krista. After nearly five hours, my family duty was done. It was well past time to go home and crash.
I made my way through the crowd and I stood in front of my errant date for more than a minute, and still she didn’t acknowledge me.
“Excuse me, Krista.”
She continued to ignore me, thoroug
hly engrossed in conversation.
“Krista, I need to speak with you. Now, please.”
She didn’t bother to disguise her annoyance. “If you’ll excuse me,” she told her companions.
We stepped away, turned our backs to the others.
“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to leave. Now, if you don’t mind.”
“Now isn’t a good time.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Griff Chambers is the head of the Psych Department. I need that Bainbridge Grant if I’m going to continue my research. I’ve almost got the nomination sewn up. Can’t you go off in a corner and practice that biofeedback technique I showed you?”
It doesn’t work for me, I wanted to shout. Instead I stared at her for a long moment.
I will not cause a scene.
I took a breath. “Sure.”
Her smile was grateful. “Thanks.” She brushed past me, went back to her colleagues.
Turning slowly, I walked away.
The lights were too bright, the band was too loud, and the laughter around me was far too shrill. I pictured my nice, comfortable, silent bedroom and headed for the foyer.
Ten feet from the door, Brenda intercepted me.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s hot. I need some air.”
“I’ll take you home,” she offered.
I shook my head—instantly sorry. “I just need some air.”
She wrapped her arm around mine, transmitting her own restlessness. “Damn. I was looking for an excuse to leave.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Richard, who was deep in conversation with the Foundation’s Director. He glanced up, signaled Brenda to join them. He couldn’t bear to see her with me.
“You’d better go back in. I’m okay. Honest.”
She nodded, patted my hand, and headed away from me.
The wide expanse of foyer was empty. I crossed it.
The door swung open and a wave of cigarette smoke assaulted me. Half a dozen people sucked on cancer sticks. At least one of them tossed his glowing butt into the shrubbery as I passed. I held my breath and took the few steps down to the drive.
A cool breeze caressed my face; fat raindrops fell from the sky. Refreshing—liberating. I stared out over the peaceful, darkened lawn. Before I realized what was happening, I’d crossed it, engulfed by the night, heading for the streetlights on Sheridan Drive.
Bound by Suggestion Page 17
