Bad Business by Robert B. Parker Page B

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.
    â€œBreathtaking,” Susan said, “isn’t it.”
    â€œThink 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?”
    â€œYou can smell the fear,” Susan said. “And the greed.”
    â€œThat too,” I said.
    â€œWe have penetrated to the heart,” Susan said, “of corporate America.”
    â€œHave you noticed that Cooper is the tallest guy in the room?” I said.
    â€œHe is a tall man.”
    â€œHe’s not much taller than I am.”
    â€œSo you would be the second tallest?” Susan said.
    â€œYou 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 tookanother 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.
    â€œWe only assume something to be an accident when all other explanations fail,” she said.
    â€œWow,” I said. “Is that the royal we? Or are you talking about you and me?”
    â€œYou and me,” she said. “I only use the royal we for state occasions.”
    â€œSo you think it’s an accident?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œCouldn’t you have said that to start?”
    â€œI have a Ph.D.,” Susan said. “From Harvard. If I had done postdoctoral work I wouldn’t be able to speak at all.”
    â€œOf course,” I said.
    â€œEveryone appears to work out,” Susan said.
    â€œAnd spend a lot of time in the sun,” I said.
    â€œThere are other ways to appear tanned,” Susan said.
    â€œAnd everyone has even white teeth.”
    â€œThere are several ways to achieve that also.”
    â€œMy God,” I said. “Is nothing as it appears.”
    â€œYou and me, Cookie.”
    â€œBesides that,” I said.
    â€œI think Hawk looks pretty much like who he is.”
    â€œI’ll tell him,” I said. “He’ll be proud.”
    â€œWhat do you suppose he and Pearl are doing?”
    â€œRight now?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œRunning along the river, scaring people.”
    â€œHow 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.
    â€œYou think bringing your wife is the mark of a loser?” I said to Susan.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Susan said. “It certifies that you’re pussy whipped.”
    â€œI brought you.”
    â€œI rest my case,” Susan said.
    Bob Cooper appeared before us with a drink in his big strong-looking hands. Gavin was with him.
    â€œSpenser,” he said, “it’s great you could come.”
    â€œIt is,” I said.
    â€œThis the sort-of wife?” he said.
    â€œBob Cooper,” I said. “Susan Silverman.”
    He bowed and shook her hand, smiling at her full wattage.
    â€œIf you were sort of my wife, I’d make sure it was the complete deal,” he said.
    â€œActually sort of is as far as I want to go,” Susan