Bird in Hand - Christina Baker Kline [8]
In front of Alison, now, was the drinks table. Martini glasses stood in rows like cartoon soldiers; on the other side of the table stood the second unit, ordinary wineglasses for the spoilers who weren’t in the spirit. Alison wasn’t at all sure that she was in the spirit, and she’d never really liked martinis; but to ask for a chardonnay or, worse, a club soda, seemed cowardly. She watched as the bartender poured a midrange Swedish vodka, in its distinctive ink blue bottle, into a large shaker of ice. He added Curaçao and shook it, then strained the liquid into a martini glass and added a twist of lemon peel.
“One of those, please,” she said, and the student-bartender, more charming than experienced, flashed her a grin and sloshed blue-tinted alcohol all over the tablecloth before handing her the sticky glass. She took a sip. The martini tasted lemony, with a medicinal aftertaste, mouthwash fresh. The next sip was sweet; the taste of the Curaçao melted away, overwhelmed by the alcohol. She was beginning to like it.
Emboldened now, holding her glass out like a calling card, Alison made her way over to a group of strangers and introduced herself.
Chapter Two
Where is Charlie? Claire scanned the room for a glimpse of his sandy hair and broad shoulders, but no one remotely resembled him, not even from the back. Out of the corner of her eye she’d seen Alison wandering alone through the crowd a few minutes earlier, but that didn’t necessarily mean Charlie wasn’t there. Maybe he’d been waylaid in the foyer.
That morning he had called Claire from work. “It’s your big night,” he said. “Excited?”
“A little nervous. I’m glad you’re coming.”
“I want to. I’m going to do everything I can.”
“What do you mean?” she said, struggling to keep the irritation out of her voice. “This is important to me. Why can’t you just say you’ll come?”
He sighed. “It’s complicated. The kids, Alison … I’ll try. I’m just not a hundred percent sure.”
“But I’ll be really disappointed.” She knew she sounded petulant, but she didn’t care.
“Me, too.”
“It won’t be any fun without you.”
“Oh, come on, Claire—you’re going to have a great time, whether I’m there or not.”
“No, I won’t,” she said stubbornly.
“Claire,” he said. “I do want to come. I want to be there for you. But I’m no good at hiding my feelings; you know that better than anyone. With Alison there, and Ben … Frankly, it seems dangerous.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Charlie. It’s a big party, with lots of people.”
“But I won’t be able to keep my eyes off you.”
“That’s okay; I’m supposed to be the center of attention.”
“Not to mention my hands.”
She laughed. “Stop. Promise you’ll come.”
He had promised, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. This would be the first time the four of them would be in a room together since that night out in Rockwell, three months ago. Once or twice in the past few months Ben had remarked that they hadn’t seen much of Alison and Charlie; but everyone was busy, and it didn’t seem particularly strange. The falling-out with Alison, Claire had to admit, made it easier to do what they were doing.
“Claire, this guy’s important,” her publicist, Jami with an i, said sotto voce, startling Claire out of her musings. Jami motioned toward a man with wolfman sideburns who was bearing down on them, snagging a martini from a waiter without breaking his stride. “Jim Oliver. He’s a reviewer for People.”
“Hello,” Claire said as he joined their small group. “I’m Claire.”
“I deduced that,” he said. “Though I must say you look livelier in person than in that ice-princess author photo.”
“Thank you. I guess.”
“We’re all so proud of her.” Jami beamed, squeezing Claire’s waist. “Did you hear we made a hard/soft deal with Japan today? And her agent is talking to Dreamworks? And she got a great review in EW this week? It’s all happening so fast!”
Claire felt ridiculous, standing there listening to Jami inflate the facts. She had a mental image of her 230-page book