Bad Business

27

Susan was wearing white pants that fit well, and a top with horizontal blue and white stripes and a wide scoopy neck which revealed the fact that she had the best-looking trapezius muscles of any woman in the world. I was nearly as dashing, though flaunting it less, in jeans and sneakers and a black tee shirt. I was carrying a gun so I wore the tee shirt not tucked in. We were sitting in the lobby at the Chatham Bars Inn amid a maelstrom of yuppies, mostly male, in bright Lacoste shirts, maroon and green predominating, pressed khakis, and moccasins, mostly cognac-colored, no socks. The women followed the same color scheme, the khaki varying among slacks, skirts, and shorts, depending, Susan and I agreed, on how they felt about their legs. Bob Cooper moved among them, wearing a starched white button-down shirt, top two buttons open, black linen trousers, and black Italian loafers: the patriarch, his gray head visible among the acolytes, laughing, squeezing shoulders, hugging an occasional woman, accepting obeisance. Gavin moved always near Cooper, wearing one of those white nipped long-waisted shirts that Cubans wear in Miami. Bernie Eisen was there, drinking mai tais. I saw no sign of Ellen.

The chatter was continuous and loud. It was the first day of the retreat, cocktail time, and everyone was taking full advantage. The company had rented the whole place. Everyone there was from Kinergy, except me and Susan.

"Breathtaking," Susan said, "isn't it."

"Think of the pressure," I said. "Do I look like a winner? Am I dressed right? Am I talking to the right people? Have I signed up for the right activities? What if I've signed up for sailing and it turns out that only losers sign up for sailing?"

"You can smell the fear," Susan said. "And the greed."

"That too," I said.

"We have penetrated to the heart," Susan said, "of corporate America."

"Have you noticed that Cooper is the tallest guy in the room?" I said.

"He is a tall man."

"He's not much taller than I am."

"So you would be the second tallest?" Susan said.

"You think it is an accident that no member of Kinergy management is as tall as the CEO?" I said.

Susan was holding a glass of pinot grigio, from which she had, in theory, been drinking for an hour and ten minutes. It was down nearly half an inch. She took another sip, and swallowed, looking at the room. Her lips were slightly parted, the residue of wine making them gleam. I knew that jumping over there and sitting on her lap was unseemly. I fought the impulse back.

"We only assume something to be an accident when all other explanations fail," she said.

"Wow," I said. "Is that the royal we? Or are you talking about you and me?"

"You and me," she said. "I only use the royal we for state occasions."

"So you think it's an accident?"

"No."

"Couldn't you have said that to start?"

"I have a Ph.D.," Susan said. "From Harvard. If I had done postdoctoral work I wouldn't be able to speak at all."

"Of course," I said.

"Everyone appears to work out," Susan said.

"And spend a lot of time in the sun," I said.

"There are other ways to appear tanned," Susan said.

"And everyone has even white teeth."

"There are several ways to achieve that also."

"My God," I said. "Is nothing as it appears."

"You and me, Cookie."

"Besides that," I said.

"I think Hawk looks pretty much like who he is."

"I'll tell him," I said. "He'll be proud."

"What do you suppose he and Pearl are doing?"

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"Running along the river, scaring people."

"How nice for her," Susan said.

Set up around the lobby were display posters listing the various events. Every event was a competition in which points could be earned: sailing, fishing, tennis, golf, bocce, badminton, horseshoes, skeet, archery, and a three-mile run. There were shopping trips arranged for the few wives in attendance.

"You think bringing your wife is the mark of a loser?" I said to Susan.

"Absolutely," Susan said. "It certifies that you're pussy whipped."

"I brought you."

"I rest my case," Susan said.

Bob Cooper appeared before us with a drink in his big strong-looking hands. Gavin was with him.

"Spenser," he said, "it's great you could come."

"It is," I said.

"This the sort-of wife?" he said.

"Bob Cooper," I said. "Susan Silverman."

He bowed and shook her hand, smiling at her full wattage. "If you were sort of my wife, I'd make sure it was the complete deal," he said.

"Actually sort of is as far as I want to go," Susan said. Cooper straightened and put his head back and laughed. It was a big laugh, full of authority.

"Well hell," he said. "Just like a man. I never thought of that."

He glanced at Gavin.

"Gav, you know Spenser, this is, ah, Ms. Silverman."

We shook hands with Gavin just as if we were glad to see him.

"Room suitable?" he said.

"Lovely," Susan said. Cooper nodded like it actually mattered to him.

"You need anything you call Delia, she's here. Room eleven." I nodded. Susan smiled.

"I've saved a couple of seats at my table," Cooper said. "For dinner. I hope you can join me."

"We'd be thrilled," Susan said, just as if she meant it.

"See you then," Cooper said. "Dinner's at seven."

He moved off toward a group of men at the bar. Gavin followed. Susan watched them go, smiling.

"Why exactly was it we decided to come to this?"

"I don't know what else to do," I said. "I'm rummaging."

Susan nodded. Her eyes had a little glitter in them. Something was amusing her.

"What?" I said.

"You could barely force yourself to be civil," Susan said. "How long do you suppose that you would last as a Kinergy employee?"

"I suppose it would depend on how much I needed the job," I said.

Susan looked straight at me and gave me a full-out, unfettered grin. My alimentary canal tightened. I took in some air. When she did the unfettered grin, I always felt as if I needed more oxygen than I was getting.

"No," she said. "It wouldn't."