by Cass Sellars
“All yours, Jen. You’ll be beautiful as always,” Parker called after her, running a finger over the charm at her neck that reminded her of their journey and what Sydney meant to her. She stepped over to take the cufflink Sydney held and attached it to her right sleeve.
“I love you.” She whispered the words as she felt Syd’s arms stretch around her, holding her tightly. She closed her eyes and recognized the ever-present butterflies in her stomach.
“I love you, too. You’ll be fabulous tonight, as always.” Syd nipped at her bottom lip before she kissed her gently.
For the moment, Parker forgot her hosting duties and allowed herself to get lost in Syd’s arms, grateful for the temporary distraction. After a few deep breaths, she straightened and stepped back, snapping once again into hostess mode.
“Did you see the ice sculpture? Take pictures this evening because I can assure you there will never be another one of those in here.” She shook her head and dragged herself away as she went to finish her makeup. “Unless, of course, your new girlfriend gets one.”
“Since there will never be one of those, I think we’re safe to assume this will be the last ice sculpture,” Syd called after her as she walked down the hall. Since Jenny and Mack had agreed to stay over, Parker was grateful she and Syd wouldn’t be left to entertain any stragglers alone.
Within a half hour, Jenny seemed to have recovered her calm when she whirled into the kitchen in her straight black skirt matched with a robin’s egg blue blouse she had snagged from Parker’s closet. She had swept her blond hair into a deconstructed ponytail and donned long teardrop earrings. Her ubiquitous heels finished off the look as she twirled in front of them.
“Very nice, Jen. You threw that together fast.” Parker smiled.
“I’m going shopping in your closet more often! You’re not so bad yourself. Where did you get that?” Jenny turned Parker to get a better look at her gunmetal gray suit in raw silk. “Very fancy.”
“Syd went shopping the last time she went to New York and surprised me with it.” Parker watched Syd answer the door for a member of the catering staff, and her pulse raced.
“You’re a lucky girl, but then, so is Sydney.” Jenny hugged her best friend and switched gears. “So! I’ve put our overnight bags in the closet and tidied up the spare room in case you get any wanderers. Besides, I don’t want Dayne going through my underwear.” She laughed, and Parker stuck out her tongue in reply.
“Seriously, where are we, what’s happening, what can I do?” Jenny adopted work mode.
Over Jenny’s shoulder, Parker saw Mack in charcoal pants and a lighter gray silk shirt tap shoulders with Sydney, who was lugging a full tub of beer. Parker nudged Jenny. “Go kiss your wife, and then get a glass of wine. The show starts in ten.”
Brenda Davidson was the first to arrive, sweeping into the loft in a form-fitting red sundress and kitten heels. Quint followed behind in a tight black suit that might have been more appropriate on him if he were a few decades younger. Brenda bought all his clothes and repeatedly tried to outfit him like a GQ model, which made him look as if he tried too hard, when in fact, he didn’t try at all.
Brenda turned in the sweeping foyer and openly appraised the twenty-five-foot ceilings in the vaulted space. Syd explained the history of the Meridian Street Warehouses, which had been repurposed from old industrial units to live-work condos. Despite the conversion, they had kept the basic integrity of the structures, which impressed many a guest.
“These are fabulous! I love what you’ve done with the décor.” Brenda flattered Sydney, who nodded a polite thank you. Parker heard her say that the best part of living in the warehouses was that she’d met Parker there. Syd spoke to Brenda as if she was the most important person in the room. She could coolly finesse any situation if she so desired, an attribute Parker had always found sexy. Parker recalled that Sydney’s talents had worked on her when she bought the unit across the hall. She now rented it to their friend Mia Wright, but it would always be the catalyst that brought them together, and it made this building that much more special. It felt like home; Syd felt like home.
Syd led the Davidsons on a brief tour. Parker shot her a withering look when she heard her speaking enthusiastically to Brenda. “Parker was just mentioning what a stroke of genius the ice sculpture was. She couldn’t stop talking about how much she liked it.”
“Ass,” Parker mouthed and shook her head. Syd shot her a grin behind Brenda’s back.
Within the hour, the loft had swelled to capacity as sixty-five guests dined on tasty amuse-bouche delivered on silver trays by traditionally uniformed waiters. Parker hadn’t stopped greeting and hosting from the kitchen for even a moment while Jenny worked the door, introducing strangers to each other before sending them off toward the bar or a food station.
Parker glanced up at the office loft and saw several of the wall screens now bright with crime scene photos. Quint looked spellbound as Syd played one of the reconstruction videos Parker recognized from a case Mack had worked with her last year.
Parker turned from the kitchen just in time to see Dayne sweep into the foyer in her signature black Armani with Julie Thomas—the woman Parker had found Dayne on top of on their anniversary—tightly clinging to her elbow. Her eyes darted around the room, and Dayne seemed to pull away, perhaps trying to lessen Julie’s grip. Jenny offered a gracious greeting and pointed them toward the back corner for a drink before she spun around as if to evaluate Parker’s reaction.
Parker lifted a large glass of wine and gave her a knowing smirk. She mouthed, “It’s fine,” to Jenny when she looked mildly concerned. Parker turned away and suddenly found herself cornered by Frank Meyers in a too-shiny gray suit and a melon colored T-shirt. She tried not to conjure Miami Vice images as she spoke to him.
“Well, hello, Frank. Where did you come from all of a sudden?” Parker purposefully walked him backward to remove herself from the tight space behind the island, arriving at the bottom of the loft stairs in full view of everyone else.
“Oh, I haven’t been here long. I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous, Parker.”
The nervous tone in his voice made Parker feel a bit sorry for the awkward man who tried so hard to sound cool and confident despite never quite managing it.
“That’s very kind of you, Frank. Perhaps there will be some new people you can meet here tonight.” She hoped her encouragement sounded positive instead of dismissive.
“Actually, I already have my eye on a really pretty girl with long blond hair standing by the bar.”
Parker stepped around him to see the girl Frank had set his sights on. She arrived at the curvy figure of Sydney’s ex, Darcy, now the manager of the Silver Lake Crime Lab. She was also the girlfriend of CTI’s operations manager and very much a lesbian. Poor Frank seemed to be attracted to women he definitely had no chance with.
“Ooh, Frank. I’m sorry, but Darcy is already spoken for. You know Taylor Westin from CTI, right?” He nodded and looked momentarily crestfallen. “That’s her partner, Darcy Dean.” As if privy to the conversation, Darcy threaded her fingers through Taylor’s and leaned into her.
“Oh well, it wasn’t like I have time for a long-term thing anyway.” He attempted to scramble up some bravado as he touched her arm. “I’ll just have to wait until someone nice like you comes along.”
Parker heard heavy footfalls on the black metal steps behind them and felt Sydney’s presence before she saw her.
“Hello, Frank, I met you the other day at the office.” Syd spoke a little too sternly as she reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Sydney Hyatt.”
Mack stood close behind her as Quint Davidson rushed down past them to greet the newcomers he had been neglecting in favor of marveling at Syd’s computer toys. Frank offered Sydney his hand, and Parker watched his entire body move with the force of it.
“And this is Lieutenant Foster.”
Parker paused and looked carefully at the duo. Sydney nev
er introduced Mack that way in social situations. Equally amusing was the fact that Mack didn’t offer her first name as she took her turn to shake Frank’s hand. “Jenny Foster is my wife.”
“Okay. Nice to meet you. Well, I guess I should mingle.” Frank backed away and rushed off to be swallowed by the crowd. Sydney traded knowing looks with Mack.
Parker folded her arms across her chest. “Shall I get out the rulers for the dick-measuring contest later?” She scolded them in a harsh whisper.
“Nah, we don’t want to embarrass everyone else, Park.” Mack tried to look serious when Sydney stifled a laugh and turned to Parker.
“Don’t be mad, Park. He just needed to know you weren’t available.” She slid her palm down Parker’s back. “Now, we’ll go charm our guests, and I’ll keep my euphemistic appendage in my pants, I promise.” She squeezed Parker’s waist for just a second before she and Mack moved into the crowd. Parker reminded herself to tell Jenny the episode she’d missed and would have thoroughly enjoyed.
Within minutes, Frank entered the kitchen, quickly followed by a harried Jenny and new hire Ben Barrett, who was carrying a small glass of club soda.
“What happened?” Parker asked when Jenny held Ben’s sleeve aloft.
“Apparently, Ben stood too close to a meatball-wielding woman and ended up wearing it on his shirt.” Jenny guided him toward the sink and dipped a bar towel in the cup. Ben looked awkward as Jenny worked the soaked fabric under the faucet.
“How are you enjoying yourself otherwise, Ben? Are you managing to meet some people?” Parker watched him straighten and take a deep breath as if pleased to have a new topic.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s a little overwhelming, but it’s a great party.” He seemed to relax as Jenny unhanded him only to reach back and take another shot at the faint legacy of barbecue sauce still marring his broadcloth dress shirt. “It helps that Chris is new, too.”
Chris lingered behind the trio with a can of ginger ale wrapped inside a meticulously folded napkin. “Nothing from the bar tonight, Chris?” Sydney asked as she strolled in.
“No, I don’t drink. My church forbids the consumption of alcohol, sir.” He choked out a quick correction. “I mean ma’am, sorry.”
“No worries. You certainly aren’t the first.” Sydney sipped her scotch and smiled at the rigid, timid man Parker was fairly sure would be swallowed up by the Washington DC area construction business in short order. She watched the crowd in amusement before one of the waiters brushed past her and rushed into the kitchen.
“Miss Jenny, I’m sorry, but I think the blenders blew a fuse. Maybe if you have a surge protector, we can stop it from happening again.”
Jenny smiled at him. “Sounds like a good idea, Adam. Syd, can we use the one in our room? I think there’s only a lamp plugged into it.”
“I’m on it.” Syd turned and headed to the spare room for the item with Adam following close behind.
“Hey, Adam,” Jenny called after the retreating duo. “How about just one blender at a time from now on, just in case?” He smiled and nodded as he walked more quickly to catch Syd.
“Why am I here again?” Parker smiled at her when Jenny sent Ben and Chris back to the living room. “I really should have gone for a massage and a pedicure tonight.” She glanced idly at her toes. “You’re a one-woman machine, and I feel like window dressing.”
“Bite your tongue; I could never do this without you.” Jenny smiled at her.
Eddie Mayhew, the accounting manager, led his two new hires into the kitchen; neither seemed to have any problem with alcohol consumption. Randy and Steve each held huge daiquiris in warring hues of melon and fuchsia. Parker surmised that perhaps the drinks were what had put the 1940s electricity on the fritz. The new employees hadn’t really needed to meet the CTI management, but Parker thought it was a nice way to bring them on board and let them get to know everyone.
Parker and Jenny engaged them in idle chatter before Parker managed to extricate them from the conversation in favor of a new tray of hors d’oeuvres.
Jenny’s voice was barely above a whisper as she looked past Parker and toward the hallway. “That looks like a dangerous combination.”
Parker followed her stare and saw Syd in quiet conversation with Dayne. Parker watched them sip their drinks.
“Well, maybe this is the bridge to harmony.” Parker tried not to sound dramatic as she watched her girlfriend and her ex-wife carefully.
“From your lips…” Jenny left to resume her front door post. Parker swept abandoned cups and plates into the bin before turning to see Dayne walking toward her.
“Hey, Princess!” She smiled broadly and offered a casual side hug.
“Dayne, it’s probably better if we avoid old nicknames, okay?” She didn’t like it much when Darcy called Sydney by a long-ago nickname, so she couldn’t imagine Sydney would appreciate the converse.
“Sorry, you’re right. Julie might not think much of it either.” She stepped back and swept her eyes over Parker. “You look really happy, and this place is awesome. Sydney mentioned you’re officially living together now? I’m really happy for you, Park.” Dayne was rarely sincere unless it suited her purposes. but Parker almost believed her ex-wife actually meant it this time.
“Shall I assume you and Julie are in a good place, too?” Parker watched Dayne’s face warily. She had spent ten years learning to spot her ex-wife’s lies; she just hadn’t been very good at figuring them out before the blade had landed in her back. She had sharpened her skills since then.
“We are. It’s pretty relaxed; nothing permanent for a while. I’m still getting over the love of my life, you know.” Dayne gave her the look that used to win Parker over every time.
Parker nearly pointed out that the so-called love of her life had caught her straddling Julie on the afternoon of their tenth anniversary, but she decided to change the subject instead.
“So, are you heading up the CTI campaign with Richard?” She hadn’t spoken to her best friends Allen and Richard since they arrived hours ago, but she had seen Brenda speaking intensely to Allen while Richard was obligated to glad-hand the crowd on behalf of PRG.
“Nope, this one’s all Richard; the boss just wanted a good showing for tonight, and I figured this is the only way I’d get an invite to Sydney Hyatt’s house.”
Parker laughed at the very true statement and caught Sydney out of the corner of her eye moving around the loft above them. “Well, I suppose we should head into the crowd. I don’t think I’ve made it out of the kitchen all night.” She tossed a dish towel over the edge of the sink.
Parker twitched involuntarily when Dayne suddenly placed her hand over her lower back. Parker deliberately walked ahead of her until she was out of her reach. Dayne was swallowed by the crowd, and Parker steered toward Allen, who was still being held hostage by an enthusiastic Brenda.
“Hi, Biscuit.” Parker tapped a kiss on his cheek when he smiled at his old nickname. Parker had coined it as he chased his Bichon Frise through the streets in their apartment complex waving dog treats. He hugged her enthusiastically.
“Brenda and I have just been discussing the crushed velvet French maid wallpaper she’s putting up in her new powder room; doesn’t that sound just delicious?” His grin bordered on manic, and Parker fought to stifle a laugh.
“Wow, Allen. And you’ve been looking for new ideas at your house, too. It sounds like this was fate.” Allen’s face was beet red, nearly matching his bowtie and signature red high-tops he wore with his cream linen suit. Sweat beaded on his face. and he dabbed an olive-green cocktail napkin over his skin.
Brenda was clearly delighted by the concept and squeezed his hands in hers. “You call me anytime, and we’ll do a day at the design store.” She kissed both his flushed cheeks and glided away to speak with an arriving executive from CTI.
Allen wordlessly guided her to the bedroom and shut the door. The empty room was cool and blissfully quiet.
“French mai
ds? Really?” Allen flopped back on the bed and let the breeze from the ceiling fan brush over his flushed skin.
“I’m assuming you know the ice monstrosity out there was her idea, too.” Parker sighed and tilted her face to the breeze.
“No kidding. If you copped to ordering that, we would have to break up.”
“I would deserve nothing less.” Parker joined him on the bed.
“So, how does it feel having your ex-wife and her wonder mistress in your house?” He giggled as Parker tried to relax against the pillow without wrinkling her skirt.
“Not bad, I guess. She and Syd were having some convo in the hallway, so I can’t wait to get the scoop on that.” She looked at the nightstand clock and groaned. “It’s already ten; maybe everyone will start to head home.” A wave of fatigue washed over her.
“Um, free booze and too much really fabulous food? You might be in for a late one, Park.”
They both jumped as the door opened, and Sydney stood at the threshold. She looked relieved when she saw Parker. “Hey, baby. I just thought something might be wrong. You okay?”
Allen launched himself off the bed and gently patted Sydney’s shoulder. “She’s tired and antisocial. She’s all yours.” He spun out of the room on a cloud of renewed energy, and Parker fell backward, caring much less about potential wrinkles.
Syd clicked the door shut and reclined to pull Parker against her. “Want me to chase everyone out, and you can help me melt the ice sculpture?” Sydney held the hair off Parker’s neck, letting the air from the fan hit her skin.
“You mean the damn thing isn’t slush yet?” She closed her eyes and audibly breathed in Syd’s cologne. “By the way, you are entirely gorgeous, in case I forgot to tell you.”
“You could be accused of being significantly biased, but thank you.” Syd dropped her hair and smoothed it over her back. “How about we do one more round together? The group is starting to thin. I heard your gentleman caller tell Jen he was taking the new guys out to score some women. And yes, that’s a direct quote.”
Parker grimaced. “There was so much wrong with what you just said; I don’t know where to begin.” Parker chuckled wearily into Syd’s neck before allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. Sydney leaned in for an excruciatingly slow kiss until Parker moaned gratefully, grasping at her shirt.
