The flight attendant appeared with a tray with two iced bottles of beer. Meg asked for a glass of wine. The airplane began to taxi as Murray kept asking about what the jet could and could not do. The flight attendant asked them to strap in for takeoff, then disappeared into the rear.
Fifteen minutes later she reappeared with fresh drinks and asked if anyone was hungry. The thought of eating at 40,000 feet in such luxury was overwhelming, and the boys ordered small pizzas.
Meg proved to be quite the basketball buff and quizzed them on their run to the Final Four. Because of Reynard’s line of work, she watched a lot of basketball, college and pro, and knew all the players and coaches and even some of the refs. Reynard estimated that he personally attended at least seventy-five games each season, and Meg was often with him.
Not a bad life, Murray was thinking, and quizzed Reynard about his work. Sooley checked his cell phone, saw that there was coverage, and stepped to the rear to call Miss Ida. She did not answer.
* * *
·?·?·
Arnie’s sprawling home was on a street near the ocean. It, along with its neighbors, had obviously been designed by cutting-edge architects trying mightily to shock each other. Front doors were taboo. Upper floors landed at odd angles. One was a series of three glass silos attached by what seemed like chrome gangplanks. Another was a grotesque bunker patterned after a peanut shell with no glass at all. After eight months in Durham, Sooley had never seen a house there that even remotely resembled these bizarre structures.
Arnie’s was one of the prettier ones, with three levels and plenty of views. The limo stopped in the circular drive and a barefoot butler greeted them. He showed them through the front opening, again no door, and to a vast open space with soaring ceilings and all manner of Calder-like mobiles dangling in the air.
“The party’s back there,” the butler said, pointing to the rear lawn where a large well-lit pool welcomed the guests.
“We’re gonna change,” Reynard said, and he and Meg disappeared. In well-worn jeans, sneakers, and tee shirts, Sooley and Murray almost felt overdressed. Everyone wore shorts. Some had shoes. They eased to a corner, found the bar, got another beer, and watched as two girls jumped in the pool. Soft rap barked from hidden speakers. Guests came and went into the house and back.
Someone said loudly, “Hey, it’s Sooley!” The stranger walked over with a big smile and even bigger handshake. He introduced himself as Julian somebody and said he and Reynard worked together. Every guest had some connection to the game, and at that moment Samuel Sooleymon was the most famous college player in the country. A crowd soon gathered around him and he chattered away. Someone brought him a fresh beer. Some girls drifted over.
They were attractive and of all shades—black, white, and brown—and all appeared to be no older than twenty. Several strutted around in skimpy swimwear, others in tight shorts with revealing blouses. Murray, as always, began flirting.
A long table was set up in the main room and dinner was served. The guests were other agents who worked with Arnie, a couple of executives with the Heat, some coaches in the area, some friends from the neighborhood. The casual gathering gave the impression that in Arnie’s world a party such as this could materialize at a moment’s notice.
Where was Arnie? Murray asked Reynard, who said the boss was flying in and should arrive anytime now.
Other guests were arriving. Murray recognized Lynn Korby, a guard for the Heat, who had been injured for the past month. The team was on the road finishing up the season. The playoffs would begin in a week. The sighting of Korby made Sooley wonder if Niollo might show up, but Murray didn’t think so.
After dinner, a DJ appeared and cranked up the music. A dance floor emerged from the landscaping beside the pool and was soon crowded with gyrating couples. Behind a row of hedges a smaller party was under way in a large hot tub where half a dozen young ladies skinny-dipped and splashed around while balancing flutes of champagne. Sooley and Murray fell into lawn chairs and watched the show. Murray said, “Sooley, old boy, we’re a long way from Durham.”
They hung out, danced, drank beers, and otherwise partied until after midnight. With no end in sight, Sooley said he’d had enough. A porter showed them to their bedroom on the second floor, on a wing that resembled a designer dormitory. They retired to matching single beds and fell asleep with the sounds of the party still rocking below.
* * *
·?·?·
Reynard fetched them late the following morning and led them to a deck near the pool. A large canopy shielded the sun and a fan cooled the pleasant air. Arnie Savage was on the phone and jumped to his feet when he saw them. The phone disappeared. He introduced himself, shook hands warmly, and apologized for missing his party the night before. He offered them seats and within seconds a young lady was waiting to take their orders. Omelets, pancakes, ham and eggs, avocado toast, you name it.