doesn't stop when he gets what he wants. He follows up, pays visits, twists the dagger as much as he can. He toys with people's minds."
"And you found this out ..."
"Because he tried to do it to me."
Before I could respond, Ruby McBride was there, her large friend Clyde Simms in tow.
"Well!" she said. "This must be the happy people's table."
Ruby had shed her white jacket since the memorial service. Her blouse was sleeveless and sheer. She'd wrapped a Cleopatrastyle silver snake armband around her biceps. Versatile outfit—perfect for the woman who needs to hit the singles scene right after her ex husband's funeral and doesn't want the hassle of changing.
There were no seats for our guests. Clyde folded his arms, seemed content to root there and let the crowd navigate around him.
Ruby knelt next to Garrett, draped one arm around his neck, then slipped a tiny silver camera out of her pants pocket.
She smiled at Maia and me. "Got to get this for the scrapbook."
The flash left me blinking black amoebas.
"We are so indebted to you for coming, Miss Lee," Ruby said. "Your advice so far—well, we wouldn't be here today, would we?"
"You want to blame somebody—" Garrett started.
"No blame," Ruby protested. "Of course, I hope Miss Lee won't mind—just this once—if we don't invite her to our meeting tonight. I really think it should be just the company's principals. Those of us who are still left."
Maia started to get up. "I'll see you later, Garrett. Tres."
"Oh, Miss Lee. Don't leave on my account!"
"I've got to go to the little girls' room," Maia said. "Repair my hairspray and stuff. You understand, Miss McBride."
Once she was gone, Ruby said, "I love that woman."
"She's good looking," Clyde grumbled. "You made her leave."
Ruby waved her camera like she was dispelling smoke. "You have bad taste, Clyde."
"You make me talk to Pena and Hayes again," Clyde warned, "I'll show you taste. I'll murder them."
Ruby rolled her eyes. She slid into Maia's chair, aimed the camera at me diagonally. I held my hand in front of the lens until she gave up. "Spoilsport. I'm not excluding you from tonight's meeting, Tres, honey. After all, you have some direct interest in the capital at stake, don't you?"
"You mean he's likely to side with you," Garrett complained.
Ruby said cheerfully, "That too."
Over at the bar, the argument between Pena and Hayes was escalating, some of the words even cutting through the bar noise. She. Sell. No.
From the back patio, Kinky Friedman let out a loud aiyyaiyy aiyy! There was a spattering of applause, then Kinky launched into "Waitress, Please Waitress." The perfect romantic wedding song.
Clyde was glaring at the fight between Pena and Dwight Hayes, which was now beginning to stop the conversations around them.
"Somebody should kill that guy," Clyde groused.
"Now, now," Ruby said. "That guy is our next paycheck, dear."
Then Dwight Hayes pushed his boss. Maybe Dwight didn't mean to push as forcefully as he did. Maybe he caught Pena off balance. But Pena toppled backward, right off his barstool, flat on his ass.
There were two seconds of frozen surprise at the bar, then bemused looks, then catcalls. Somebody started clapping.
Matthew Pena got slowly to his feet.
Dwight was apologizing, his arms raised, and Pena nodded reassuringly that everything was okay, then picked up a beer bottle and slammed it into the side of Dwight Hayes' face. It was Dwight's turn to go down.
A woman shrieked. The crowd surged back.
Clyde Simms said, "That's fucking it."
Ruby tried to call after him, but Clyde was hearing none of it. He plowed through the crowd, toward the bar.
There were two Travis County deputies working the wedding party's security by the back door, but they weren't moving yet— probably trying to decide if their duties included breaking up a nonweddingparty bar fight.
Clyde tapped Matthew Pena's shoulder, got his attention, and decked him.
Another surge backward from the crowd.
I
"And you found this out ..."
"Because he tried to do it to me."
Before I could respond, Ruby McBride was there, her large friend Clyde Simms in tow.
"Well!" she said. "This must be the happy people's table."
Ruby had shed her white jacket since the memorial service. Her blouse was sleeveless and sheer. She'd wrapped a Cleopatrastyle silver snake armband around her biceps. Versatile outfit—perfect for the woman who needs to hit the singles scene right after her ex husband's funeral and doesn't want the hassle of changing.
There were no seats for our guests. Clyde folded his arms, seemed content to root there and let the crowd navigate around him.
Ruby knelt next to Garrett, draped one arm around his neck, then slipped a tiny silver camera out of her pants pocket.
She smiled at Maia and me. "Got to get this for the scrapbook."
The flash left me blinking black amoebas.
"We are so indebted to you for coming, Miss Lee," Ruby said. "Your advice so far—well, we wouldn't be here today, would we?"
"You want to blame somebody—" Garrett started.
"No blame," Ruby protested. "Of course, I hope Miss Lee won't mind—just this once—if we don't invite her to our meeting tonight. I really think it should be just the company's principals. Those of us who are still left."
Maia started to get up. "I'll see you later, Garrett. Tres."
"Oh, Miss Lee. Don't leave on my account!"
"I've got to go to the little girls' room," Maia said. "Repair my hairspray and stuff. You understand, Miss McBride."
Once she was gone, Ruby said, "I love that woman."
"She's good looking," Clyde grumbled. "You made her leave."
Ruby waved her camera like she was dispelling smoke. "You have bad taste, Clyde."
"You make me talk to Pena and Hayes again," Clyde warned, "I'll show you taste. I'll murder them."
Ruby rolled her eyes. She slid into Maia's chair, aimed the camera at me diagonally. I held my hand in front of the lens until she gave up. "Spoilsport. I'm not excluding you from tonight's meeting, Tres, honey. After all, you have some direct interest in the capital at stake, don't you?"
"You mean he's likely to side with you," Garrett complained.
Ruby said cheerfully, "That too."
Over at the bar, the argument between Pena and Hayes was escalating, some of the words even cutting through the bar noise. She. Sell. No.
From the back patio, Kinky Friedman let out a loud aiyyaiyy aiyy! There was a spattering of applause, then Kinky launched into "Waitress, Please Waitress." The perfect romantic wedding song.
Clyde was glaring at the fight between Pena and Dwight Hayes, which was now beginning to stop the conversations around them.
"Somebody should kill that guy," Clyde groused.
"Now, now," Ruby said. "That guy is our next paycheck, dear."
Then Dwight Hayes pushed his boss. Maybe Dwight didn't mean to push as forcefully as he did. Maybe he caught Pena off balance. But Pena toppled backward, right off his barstool, flat on his ass.
There were two seconds of frozen surprise at the bar, then bemused looks, then catcalls. Somebody started clapping.
Matthew Pena got slowly to his feet.
Dwight was apologizing, his arms raised, and Pena nodded reassuringly that everything was okay, then picked up a beer bottle and slammed it into the side of Dwight Hayes' face. It was Dwight's turn to go down.
A woman shrieked. The crowd surged back.
Clyde Simms said, "That's fucking it."
Ruby tried to call after him, but Clyde was hearing none of it. He plowed through the crowd, toward the bar.
There were two Travis County deputies working the wedding party's security by the back door, but they weren't moving yet— probably trying to decide if their duties included breaking up a nonweddingparty bar fight.
Clyde tapped Matthew Pena's shoulder, got his attention, and decked him.
Another surge backward from the crowd.
I
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