You're Next by Gregg Hurwitz Page A

‘Had?’
    ‘People with knuckles like that don’t generally make it to happy middle age.’
    Kat ran by, chasing Andrés’s son, shrieking laugher.
    William gestured at them with his chin. ‘Look at the little ones. I could
     watch ’em play all day.’
    The way William was looking at the kids made Mike squirm.
    ‘Cute girl,’ William said. ‘Must be yours – strong resemblance, those cat eyes. You can tell
she
ain’t adopted.’
    A creepy remark, creepier still since Mike didn’t think he and Kat looked all that much alike. Why would the guy give a damn
     if Kat
was
adopted? Had Mike heard wrong, or had William actually placed extra emphasis on the ‘she’? A veiled reference to Mike’s foster-home
     past? Meaning what? And how could William know? Mike felt a pulse beating in the side of his neck.
    ‘So who do you know here?’ Mike asked.
    ‘Well, Mike, now I know you, don’t I?’
    ‘Sure,’ Mike said evenly. ‘But who invited you?’
    Someone made an announcement, and they all began settlinginto their chairs. The woman with the clipboard waved Mike toward his seat by the podium, her gesture emphatic:
We need you here
now.
    ‘Better get going,’ William said. ‘Looks like they want you onstage.’
    There was no denying it; this second evasion was intentional. Something had shifted in the air, gone sour.
    And Mike’s patience had worn thin. He swallowed, tried to rein in his irritation. ‘You didn’t answer my question. How are
     you hooked into this?’
    ‘I’m just a guy who likes a party.’ William kept his eyes on Mike and spit out another sunflower shell, this time over the
     lip of the cup onto the carpet. ‘Plus, there’s a whole mess of finelookin’ women around.’ He gestured, again with his scraggly
     chin. ‘Look at that slice o’ pie there.’ Annabel was sitting at the edge of the banquet table up on the dais. Her chair was
     pulled sideways as she spoke with one of the waiters. Though her legs were closed, her dress was hitched on a knee, and from
     their lower vantage they could see a little triangle of white silk between her legs.
    Mike felt his face go hot. He stiffened, and the big man, never shifting his blank gaze from the far wall, sidled a half step
     toward them.
    Mike felt a surge of old instinct rising in him, gathering heat. His face was close enough to William’s that he could smell
     the stink leaking through his teeth.
    The woman with the clipboard called Mike’s name. He untensed his muscles and stepped calmly away. Walking up onto the dais,
     he whispered in Annabel’s ear, and she straightened her dress, smoothing it over her knees. The lights dimmed, save those
     beating down on the banquet table, illuminating Mike and the other award recipients. Squinting out at the room, he could discern
     little more than shadowy figures around the far tables.
    The governor made a grand entrance, his frame dwarfing thepodium. He threw out a few opening cracks, a broad grin showing off the trademark gap in his front teeth. Mike registered
     the crowd’s titters but little else; his eyes were picking over the crowd. Annabel, misreading his tension, squeezed his hand
     supportively. Kat waved from Andrés’s table down in the front.
    The other honorees got up and made brief speeches, but Mike couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. He thought he spied
     William’s form moving across the back, but then there was an awful silence and he realized everyone was staring at him. The
     familiar woman, sans clipboard, said Mike’s name again into the microphone. Annabel urged him to his feet, and, walking on
     wooden legs, he took the podium.
    ‘I, um—’ A feedback squawk; his mouth was too close to the mike. The wet fabric from the spill felt cold against his thigh.
     He did his best to put the bizarre confrontation out of mind. ‘I don’t really deserve to be here,’ he said.
    At the VIP table, Bill Garner looked up at him, head cocked, lips wearing a tense