The house was set back from the road somewhat, behind a thin screen of trees. It wasn’t a mansion, nor even especially big. The nearest other houses, out of sight around a Tomd in the road, were easily twice its size. There was a immaculately maintained swimming pool in the back, scarcely used due to the mosquitoes. Two horses, one Morgan and one half-Arab, had their heads through the slats of the fence seeking clover just out of reach.
The first car pulled into the driveway just after seven PM. Jackson, the host, leaned out of one of the study windows.
“Dianne!” he called out and waved.
Dianne was tall and slender with hair cut rather short. She wore a white dress and flat shoes. Locking her car, she met Jackson at the front door.
“Welcome,” he said, and gave a little bow.
A puff of cool inside air, scented with food, ruffled Dianne’s skirt as she stepped inside.
The wood paneling of the walls and floors was rich, easily dating the house to last century. There was some artwork, drawings of horses and dogs, and faded photos of children.
Jackson glanced back at the kitchen. “I have to mess with the potatoes. There are drinks and chips in the living room. Could you please make yourself at home?”
Dianne followed him towards the kitchen. “Oh, Jackson. You’re doing the cooking. But that’s so much work.”
He shrugged. “It’s either that or hire a cook or convince one of the guests to do it all. I don’t think either way would work well.
Jackson was dressed casually in slacks and a polo shirt. His hair was disarranged, and became more so as he transfered the potatoes into a pot of boiling water.
“Could I help with something?” She asked.
The doorbell rang.
“Yes. Get the door for me, please?”
Dianne trotted back out to the front hall and answered the door.
It was Tom and someone Dianne didn’t recognize.
Tom was a large man, dark-complexioned, built as if he did something active for a living, or else did nothing at all but hang out in health clubs. His companion was smaller, younger, and deferential. Tom introduced him as Pinky.
Dianne figured that Pinky was Tom’s new pet. The two of them, however, had come from out of state, and Dianne hadn’t had time to check up on current gossip about them. Tom was a regular at Jackson’s parties, as was Dianne.
The three of the adjourned to the living room, where Jackson had left chips, vegetables, and dip. The window air conditioner hummed, almost drowning out the soft sound of the stereo.
“How’s your new job?” Tom asked.
“It’s wonderful. And so’s my apartment. You should come visit some time.” Dianne, like most of the guests, used her real name and didn’t care who knew where she worked. Many of them knew each other in a real-life context. There was little danger, however, of breaches of privacy.
“Who else do you think will show?”
Pinky had said nothing after his murmured hello, and was now reading one of the coffee table books.
Tom shook his head. “Useless to speculate. It’s seven thirty now. Anyone who is coming will be here by eight.”
Rosie and Evan arrived next. They had come together on one previous party. It seemed they were in some sort of a relationship, or possibly even married to each other. Rosie was very pretty, with shoulder-length, curly redish hair. She wore a leather skirt, high heels, and a puffy blouse that dipped to an ample cleavage. Evan wore a suit, not quite over-dressed. He was brown of hair and eye, and thought very handsome, but not as much so as Arthur.
Arthur wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of snakeskin boots that made him look even taller than he was. His hair was very long, halfway down his back, and very black. His skin was pale, and his face had a beauty called ‘classic’ by fashion magazines. It would have been pretty if he ever smiled.
He had opened the front door without knocking, and greeted everyone with varying degrees of civility. Dianne he ignored after the briefest hello. She bit her lip and drank wine very slowly.
Michael appeared ten minutes before eight. He was warmly greeted by the rest of the company, for he was one of the favorite regular guests of Jackson’s parties. Michael’s eyes were blue, his hair black. He appeared somewhat rumpled, and smelled very faintly like an airport.
About a minute to eight, Jackson re-emerged from the kitchen and counted up the guests. He frowned. One missing.
“Has anyone seen…”
The front door opened one last time. A very small woman in black appeared in the doorway. She was slender, with little breasts and no bra. Her hair was blonde and buzz-cut. Her left ear was pierced with a whorl of seven diamonds, arrayed from lobe to the near-point at the top.
“Melissa,” Jackson finished.
Melissa smiled and offered him her hand to kiss. “I trust I’m not late.”
“No, not at all. Just in time for the first drawing. Have a drink?”
The rest of the guests in the small living room shuffled to make room for her.
Jackson regarded them all with a slight smile. “I’ll be in my study. Please file in one at a time. Quietly. I’ll serve dinner after that.”
Tom and Pinky were the first to draw. They wandered back into the hall to whisper afterwards.
Pinky showed his small plastic token. It was black.
“And you?” he asked.
Tom pulled his out of a pocket. It was white.
“Not quite your style.”
Tom shrugged. “A change can be nice.”
Max looked down. “I want to trade. I don’t feel comfortable with this.”
“Would you be more comfortable at their mercy or having them at yours? Think about it.”
“No. I already did.”
Tom nodded. “All right. But you’ll be paying for the favor later.”
Max smiled. “I always do.”
The rest of the guests drew in turn before hastening to dinner.
Originally posted 2008-08-22 13:50:56. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
No related posts.
