This was what I loved about people watching and why I studied sociology with a little psychology and anthropology on the side. The way people interacted fascinated me. Sometimes I felt like I was in my very own David Attenborough documentary following the curious life of the human species. The bar was a gold mine for watching all sorts of different human behavior and I loved it.
Right now I could see Dorian and Lucas sizing one another up with me in the middle. I knew Dorian had no interest in me in that way, but he couldn’t help but stir Lucas up. They were like a couple of junk yard dogs circling one another, even if they were both richer than Midas and wearing suits.
I nodded to Lucas’ glass. “You didn’t have enough this afternoon?” I asked, raising my glass to my lips. The wine was cold and crisp and perfect.
“Water,” he said, with a rueful grin. “I may never touch another glass of raïda ever again as long as I live.”
I laughed. “What about you, Dorian? Are you a raïda fan?”
“You cannot be born on Kalopsia and not be,” he replied. “Even if it is a commoner’s drink.”
I rolled my eyes even as Lucas stiffened beside me.
“That commoner’s drink may just be what saves Kalopsia, so maybe you shouldn’t write it off so easily,” Lucas growled and I turned in surprise.
Lucas did not talk like that. Lucas did not stand up to defend anything, ever. His eyes were flashing and his jaw was hard and while I found it ridiculously attractive, it also made me take a mental step back. When did Lucas change?
Dorian looked at Lucas and raised his eyebrows. “You have a plan,” he said, stating a fact rather than asking a question.
Lucas nodded, his body relaxing fractionally. “I do,” he replied.
Lucas
I did have a plan. I didn’t, however, want to get into it over dinner. Dorian didn’t care. Before dinner was even served, he’d dragged me over to the king and made me explain what I was thinking. This wasn’t how I liked to do things. I wanted to run numbers first, take a look around the facilities, see what was left of the vineyards. I wanted to have all my ducks in a row before I approached Jamie about my idea.
“No business talk,” Meredith said, coming over to us and hooking her arm through Jamie’s. “Not over the dinner table, or I will separate you all.”
I escaped the third degree and found my seat beside Frankie.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“It’s fine. I’m just not really prepared to share my idea yet, but Dorian won’t listen. Now Jamie wants the details and I don’t have the numbers to back up what I’m saying.”
“Is this about the raïda?” she asked.
I nodded. “If the distillery is operational and the vineyards are salvageable—which they must be to some degree because George and the others are producing the raïda somehow, then I don’t see why we couldn’t resurrect the entire operation.”
“Andino Raïda back from the dead, huh?”
“What? No.”
“Oh, I know they’re not dead, not in America anyway, but it would be a resurrection of sorts for your company here on Kalopsia. I’m sure your parents would be proud.”
She sounded disappointed in me, almost angry, and I ran her words over in my head again to find the point where I was suddenly the bad guy.
“Hang on a minute,” I said, reaching under the table to take her hand. “It’s my family’s distillery—”
“No business talk,” Meredith said, casting her eye around the table.
I flushed guiltily and reached for a bowl of couscous. I wanted to tell Frankie my idea, the idea I had when we were visiting the village that afternoon. I wanted to talk to her about it before I spoke about it with Jamie or anyone else, but I’d seen the way Dorian was looking at her and the condescending way he spoke of raïda and I did something I’d never done before in my life. I spoke up. Even now, thinking about it, my hands were still a little unsteady and my heart picked up its pace.
This was why I always kept my mouth shut and didn’t rush into things. Being impulsive only served to get me into more trouble. Frankie was mad at me—although, I still didn’t understand what that was all about—and Dorian was pushing me to reveal my idea when it wasn’t fully formed. I did not want to go to the king with a half-cocked idea. I wanted to show him how it could work with solid evidence. I wanted checks and balances and costs-benefits analysis. I wanted a damned spreadsheet! I wanted all the talking to be done by the numbers, just like I’d always done in the past. But Dorian. Stupid Dorian and the way he looked at Frankie and their easy camaraderie…it derailed me and made me act impulsively and now I could have jeopardized the entire plan.
And Frankie was mad at me.
Frankie didn’t get mad…not at me. We’d never really had a fight, not one where we were genuinely angry at one another. Oh, I knew she didn’t like Clarissa and although Frankie had never said anything, I always sensed disappointment from her, but we never actually fought about it. We argued over stupid stuff like what to watch on television and what music to listen to and other insignificant things, but we’d never been genuinely angry with one another and I didn’t know what had happened between when Dorian dragged me over to speak to the king and now. I knew it was something I did, I just didn’t know what.
Which was another reason I’d never let myself fall for Frankie. The women I dated were as bland as I was. Frankie was as bright and colorful as the burst of bougainvillea blooms cascading over the side of the balcony, and I loved her for it. But how could we be compatible when we were so completely opposite?
The dinner dragged. Frankie talked animatedly with everyone around the table…everyone except me. I was sitting right next to her, and she was ignoring me. I couldn’t ignore her. Not when her bare shoulder brushed against my arm occasionally or the way her perfume drifted on the breeze to envelop me in her scent. I had things I wanted to say to her. I wanted to explain my idea for the village and the distillery. But more than that, I wanted to tell her how I felt about her. How I really felt about her. Frankie might be bright and colorful to my bland beige, but I needed her in my life. I didn’t want this fake engagement to end…no; I did. I wanted the fake bit to end and for it to become real. I wanted Frankie in my life…for as long as we both shall live.
The dishes were cleared away, and I stood, offering my arm to Frankie. I promised her we’d talk, and I was determined for it to happen, even if my entire body was strung tight with anxiety about what she might have to say.
She looked up at me, searching my face for a long time before she placed her hand in mine.
“Lucas? Do you have a moment?” Jamie asked, coming over to where Frankie and I stood, poised to escape the dinner.
“Of course,” I replied, but I didn’t let go of Frankie’s hand.
“I’d really like to hear your ideas,” Jamie said and then smiled at Frankie. “You don’t mind if I steal him away for a bit?”
“No problem,” Frankie replied with a brittle smile.
She pulled her hand from mine and walked away and it felt like she was walking away from more than just dinner.