10:00 P.M.
10:00 P.M.
Philip Donaghue re-entered the ballroom and crossed through to the other side. He walked with conspicuous caution, halting every few strides to search for watchful eyes. However, he did not see Tevin Greene following his every motion as a danced with an older woman whose name he’d already forgotten – she was simply camouflage. After the waltz ended, Tevin kissed the hand of the agreeable older lady, who blushed at his chivalry. Then he left the dance floor behind him.
A red-headed servant stopped him to offer a glass of champagne. After he accepted with a smile, she said, “Enjoying the night, sir?”
“Things are going well.” He offered her a slight bow. “May I take a second glass for a friend?”
“Certainly, sir.” He claimed the glass destined for Brigit and she nodded before moving on to her next task.
Tevin passed through the double doors which led to the terrace.
Sure he was an advocate of Harold Deakins, but his true interest in attending the fundraiser was one Brigit Donaghue. His eye detected her in a crowd not unlike this one over a year ago and he had been biding his time for the right moment to make his introduction. He knew his approach must be subtle, cordial and extremely professional. Ever since he was a child, he did his homework. Tevin knew exactly who Brigit was and where she came from, and he knew every last detail about her husband as well. According to his sources, Philip would have his hands full for the next quarter hour at least, leaving him an ideal window to gain invaluable face time with Brigit. He sidled up beside Brigit and said, “Off to save the day, is he?”
Brigit smiled at him. “Who? Philip?”
“Yes, Philip.”
“I haven’t the foggiest notion of what you’re talking about, Mr. Greene.”
“Come now. I’m sure we’ve all heard the rumours. Your husband didn’t disappear into a backroom for fun, Mrs. Donaghue.”
“Christ, Tevin,” Marcel said with a huff of his cigar. “Don’t you ever take a night off?”
He chuckled without stripping his gaze from his treasure. “There’s no such thing, Mr. Pascal. No rest for the wicked and all that jazz.”
“Why the sudden interest in my husband’s affairs, Tevin?”
“Like everyone here I am a strong endorser of Harold Deakins. Between me and people like The Hannovers and The Palmers, we essentially put him in office with our contributions. So, needless to say, if the rumours are true, which my sources inform me they more than likely are, then I can only hazard to guess your husband has been sought by Harold Deakins for legal counsel. And if that is the case, then, and I will not lie, I am very, very interested in whether or not I am wasting my money and my time with Mayor Deakins.”
“Fair point. I’ll award you that. But you know I could never betray Philip’s confidentiality.”
“You’re a reasonable woman, Brigit.”
“Am I? I never paid much attention.”
“Trust me. I’m an astute judge of character.”
“Or you’re just a character,” Marcel said.
“Perhaps I am, Mr. Pascal.” His eyes still had not averted from Brigit, whose eyes fought yet failed to fall away from his. “Please forgive my imprudence, but it has come to my attention that you are hosting a soiree when we’re done here?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“There are little birdies everywhere.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a soiree. It is nothing more than friends and associates enjoying a night cap together.”
“If it’s not too forward, Mrs. Donaghue, would it be an imposition to you and your husband if I were to tag along? I would very much love to see your home.”
“Are you offering me a free appraisal, Mr. Greene?”
“Perhaps. But only if you would like one, of course. No pressure.”
Marcel scoffed. “Bah! I knew it. The second you think Philip is landing a big money case, here you are ready to scoop up a big commission.”
This time Tevin did directly regard him. “I’m afraid you’ve misjudged me.”
“Not bloody likely.”
Tevin smirked before returning his focus to Brigit. “My true intention in asking is that we’re political allies and I was raised to draw a clear distinction between ally and foe, and to stick with your people. And I assure you, Mrs. Donaghue, that I am a powerful ally to have.”
“I don’t know what your angle is, buddy, but—”
“There is no angle, Mr. Pascal. I have no issue with you, but clearly you have an issue with me. I don’t know what that issue is and, to be perfectly frank, I don’t particularly care, either. What I do care about, however, is your attempting to police my conversation with Mrs. Donaghue about matters which do not concern you in the least.”
Marcel closed the gap between them and breathed smoke up into his face. The stark difference between their height grew more apparent now, with Marcel standing a foot shorter. “I just don’t like you, Tevin. Whatever the hell kind of name that is.”
“It’s the name of someone who makes more money on the toilet than you do in a week.”
Marcel threw his cigar on the brick terrace and took another dominant step forward.
“Are you attempting to intimidate me, Mr. Pascal? I don’t intimidate easily.”
To put it to the test, Marcel moved close enough to check him for cavities, that is, if he were taller, to no reaction. Tevin only looked down on him with a stoic expression as a strong gust of wind sent the cigar rolling between their toes, embers flying.
“Marcel, man...why do you have to be such a tough guy when you drink?”
“Shut up, Milton. I’m just being honest.”
“I appreciate honesty,” Tevin said. “And it is noted where I stand with you, Mr. Pascal. Is there anything else?”
After looking him up and down, he took a step back and said, “No.”
“Splendid. I hope we can put this indiscretion behind us and carry on, if not as friends, at least as partners in politics.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He slapped Milton on the shoulder. “Let’s go get a drink.”
Milton didn’t really have a say in the matter as he was towed away by the arm.
And that left Tevin alone with Brigit.