The Kings Of Cool

229

This is, like, Republican Central. The party could hold its California convention right here, and Ben feels like he should have a visa to even get in.

A twenty slipped into the doorman’s palm

(“Are you a member, sir?”

“No, but he is.”) is sufficient documentation, but Ben feels Out of Place and a little hostile as he makes his way through the lobby and watches Meldrun go out onto the patio, overlooking the harbor, overlooking the yachts, where on this late Friday afternoon the elite are there to have a drink and to see and be seen.

Ben’s working hard at being Joe Detective, trying to blend into the crowd and still keep an eye on Meldrun without being seen when he hears “Ben?”