Page 23 of Casualties of War
The first cruiser had been a milestone, representing a sharp corner in his career. He invited Parris to come and inspect it, the night before the launch party.
“I’d invite you and Stuart to the party,” Adán told her as he toured her around the boat, “only I know how you hate everything Hollywood.”
“I do,” she confirmed. “I’d end up shooting someone in the butt by the end of thenight, just to lighten my misery.” She grinned. “If Stuart didn’t beat me to it,” she added. Her grin seemed forced. It held an edge.
They finished the tour on the top deck. Parris missed nothing. She pointed at the champagne bottle on the bar and raised a brow.
“There’ll be a swimming pool’s tonnage of this stuff going around tomorrow night,” Adán admitted. “It won’t mean a thing to anyone.I figured it would mean something to you, though.”
She went over to the bar and pulled the champagne out of the bucket. Ice sloshed. She deftly unwound the foil and wire from the neck of the bottle. “You mean, it means something toyouthat I understand, while all the Glitterati won’t.” Her green eyes skewered him.
“My point exactly,” he said.
She popped the cork, not letting it fly acrossthe room. The bottle hissed. Adán turned over two flutes. He controlled the impulse to insist he pour. She would resent him trying to take over.
Parris put the bottle back in the bucket and handed him a glass. “Congratulations, Adán,” she said, and tapped hers to his. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve made it, now.” She looked around. “At least, on one level.” Only, she said it with a remote air,as if half her mind was on something else.
“Yes, ononelevel. Thank you.”
They drank.
Parris put her glass down. “I got you something, to mark the occasion.” She dug into her jean jacket pocket and pulled out a newspaper-wrapped gift about two inches square and held it out to him.
“Newspaper,” he said and laughed. “So I don’t get a big head, right? Because gift wrap and a bow is just waytoo pretentious.”
Parris’ grin was strained. She picked up her glass again, and leaned her back against the bar.
Adán pushed the stool beside her out of the way and put the gift and his glass on the bar. He unwrapped the little gift and smoothed out the newsprint under it, studying it.
It was a gold necklace, the chain thick and sturdy. It was the pendant—thependants—that bore examination.
There were three squares hanging from the chain, all the same size. He separated them with his finger.
The happy mask and the sad mask that, together, symbolized drama were the first two.
The third was the same styling, only the mouth was a zig-zag and one eye looked up, while the other looked down. A man going crazy.
“It’s the damndest thing,” Parris said. “I found the two normal masks in asecond-hand store, months and months ago. Didn’t think anything of them. You see ‘em everywhere in this town. Then the third one—”
“That’s me and you, reacting to Hollywood,” he said.
Her smile was dazzling. “You got it! I knew you would.” Her delight was radiant. She twisted to put her finger on the third mask. “I spotted this in a smoke shop, way across town, just last week. I couldn’t believeit. I bought it right on the spot, even though I didn’t know the other two would still be there—I thought for sure they’d be gone.”
“Only they weren’t,” Adán finished.
“It’s as if they were waiting for me to come back and get them,” she added.
His heart squeezed.
She was right there. Her thigh was nearly touching his because she was twisted on the stool to look at the necklace. Her hair flowedover her shoulder, gleaming red gold in the overhead light in the cabin.
It wasn’t candlelight or firelight or the glow of a sunset. It didn’t have to be.
Parris looked up at him. Her smile slipped. Did she feel it, too?
He kissed her. It wasn’t planned. He didn’t think about it, not in that moment. Later, when he reckoned up the size of the disaster, he would admit to himself that sub-consciously,he had wanted to kiss her for a long time.
The first touch of her lips was exactly as he imagined it would be. Softness and heat. A touch of chilled champagne and underneath, a taste that was purely her own. He couldn’t describe it, but it fit her perfectly.
