Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [65]
“Who knew Garth Brooks was big in Egypt?” he asked with a grin.
“Who knew Garth Brooks had already been turned into elevator music?”
“Who knew the two of you were so boring that this is your idea of conversation?” said Kyla, looking around. “Come on, where’s the entertainment?”
“Right here.” Anni walked up behind Kyla while her back was turned. She thrust a potato and a handful of rope at me and then another at Alan. “I have trouble with knots. Could you tie the rope to the potatoes? Everyone,” she lifted her voice and beckoned to the group, “come along. We’re going to play a little game.”
Within a few moments, the entire group stood in two teams around the tiny dance floor. Alan and I each held a rope at waist level and attempted to swing a potato between our legs to whack other potatoes across the floor. If and when the potato crossed the line, we were to hand the rope off to a teammate and continue the relay. It was harder than it looked, because potatoes don’t roll in a straight line, nor is it easy to aim one hanging on a rope, particularly when it has to go between your legs. We were laughing before we started.
One last blow and my potato finally rolled across the line, beating Alan’s by several feet. I handed the rope to Chris Peterson, who was almost hopping up and down with excitement, and went to look for my Heineken. The bottle was warm, so I returned to the bar for another. Looking back, I saw Chris’s potato swing far too high and catch DJ in what politeness would call the upper thigh. He doubled over, only to be met with screams of laughter from his own side and yells to Chris to keep going from the other. I giggled and leaned against the bar to watch, pleased that such a simple child’s game could work so well with a relatively sophisticated group of world travelers.
To my annoyance, Jerry Morrison stalked over and demanded a scotch and soda. He was dressed in Ralph Lauren khakis and a pressed white shirt, open at the collar to reveal a thick gold chain nestled like a snake in the forest of hair at his throat. Tonight, his hair was slicked back from his forehead, revealing just a touch of gray at the temples. He acknowledged my presence with a frown, his sharp little eyes taking in my beer and boobs at the same time.
“Stupid game.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s pretty fun if you give it a try.” I tried to maintain a pleasant expression and started edging away.
“You’d think for as much as this trip cost, they’d provide some real entertainment. Oh, come on!” this to the bartender. “Put some scotch in it! Here, give me that.” He snatched the bottle from the startled man’s hands, sloshed some soda from the glass into the sink and poured scotch until the glass overflowed.
“Pathetic,” he muttered, wiping at the wet glass with a handful of napkins and taking a big gulp.
He caught me staring. “I know. You think I’m an asshole. I don’t care.”
I lifted my eyebrows in a judgmental, steely sort of expression that usually caused the teenage recipients to stop whatever they were doing and slink off. Jerry just grinned and took another swig.
“Did you know I’m a lawyer? In LA. Made full partner at thirty. Now I own my own firm. Clients coming out the wazoo, just lining up to consult me, and I charge ’em five hundred bucks an hour.”
“Nice,” I said, because he expected it. I was trying to envision clients coming out his wazoo. Not a good image, no matter what a wazoo was.
“You and your sister are nice-looking women,” he said, pursing his lips as he tracked Kyla, who was now swinging the potato and laughing. “And that one really knows how to shake it. You should take some lessons from her.”
My jaw dropped just a little, but I recovered quickly. “How many of those have you had?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He gave a shout of laughter. “Finally! Damn, it’s hard to get a rise out of you. You’ve got that ice princess thing down pat. Can never tell what you’re thinking.”
I stared, not sure whether to laugh or stalk off. Or hit him.
“See? Even now, you probably want to hit me, but you’re just staring like a fish.