Busted Flush

John gazed around, smiling. “This used to be a different restaurant. Aces High. All the big aces used to hang out here, and the owner did this aces-only dinner every year on Wild Card Day. Mom met my father there.

My real father, I mean. She says it’s the only reason she comes here, since Hiram retired. I guess I thought it’d be cool to come back. Start some new traditions now that aces are heroes again.”

He wore a wistful look, like he gazed through a window into that bygone time when everything was bigger, flashier, better. The woman he knew as his mother had been a different person then. And his father was dead.

Dinner first, meeting after. The staff brought out course after course of gourmet dishes: perfect breads, exotic pâtés, oysters with caviar, salmon, quail, and more. Maybe not more food than Kate had ever seen in one place, but certainly more different kinds of food. No holds barred. John ordered champagne, and they drank a toast to friends old and new, to jobs well done. And, as had become tradition, a toast to the friends who were missing. They’d lost people. They wanted to remember.

They relaxed into conversation and gossip.

“Guess who called me yesterday,” Kate said.

People threw out names, movie stars and pop singers, and she shook her head for each one. “Apparently, Michael Berman is looking for someone for the rogue ace challenge on American Hero.”

Groans greeted the name of the network executive who rode herd on the show.

Rusty said, “You actually talked to him?”

“God, no. He left like five messages. But I’m warning you—you all may be next.”

Ana said, “Depends on how desperate he gets.”

Kate wanted to argue, but she was probably right. Berman wouldn’t be calling her. Ana wasn’t considered as photogenic as the more conventionally sexy women who’d been on the show. Didn’t matter, because she could still kick all their asses with her power.

Kate rolled her eyes. “The guy’s an ass. I mean, have you seen who they picked for this season? Space Cadette? What’s up with that?”

“I thought you weren’t watching,” John said. Kate huffed.

They were finishing the main course when the restaurant doors slammed open. Drummer Boy appeared, lining all six hands on his hips.

“Hey,” he called in a booming voice. “Am I too late? No? Good.”

He had to duck to enter the room. He was bald, shirtless, showing off not only his impressive canvas of tattoos, but the tympanic membranes on his torso—his namesake.

John frowned, and Kate tensed. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Chicago?” John said.

“Not tonight. Had a little extra time so I thought I’d drop by. This meeting is for the whole Committee, right?”

Bugsy tried to divert the tension, opening a space by the table near him. “DB, pull up a chair. Meet the newbies. Simone, Barbara, DB.”

DB didn’t cooperate. “Ladies,” he said, nodding a minimum polite greeting, then grabbing a spare chair from another table and pulling it next to Kate. He couldn’t squeeze himself between her and Ana, so he remained behind them. Turning the chair backward to sit on it, he leaned one set of arms on the backs of Kate and Ana’s chairs, crossed another set, and Kate lost track of the third. Now, Kate had John on her left, DB on her right, and the two of them were glaring at each other over her head.

Ana, thank God, distracted him. “How’s the tour going?”

“It’s been fucking amazing. We’re playing stadiums. Hell, we’re not a stadium band! We started out punk in two-bit bars. Now here we are.” That third set of arms spread in a gesture of offering.

“I still haven’t seen the show,” Ana said.

“You should. When the next tour starts. I’ll get you the VIP treatment, front row seats, the works.”

“Cool,” Ana said.

“Bring earplugs,” Bugsy said. “I have seen the show.”

Lilith, sitting on the other side of the table, licked a bit of sauce off her fork. “Michael, dear, you look so uncomfortable hunched in over there. Why don’t you come sit here with me? There’s plenty of room at this end.”

In fact, there wasn’t, except for a sliver of space at the corner. And Lohengrin, already sitting by Lilith, straightened and puffed up his chest, as if he could fill the space by himself.

Kate half hoped DB would move. Except that would involve making Lilith happy.

DB smirked. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t want to upset Prince Valiant there.”

“Oh, Klaus here? He won’t be upset. He’s a big puppy.” She gazed up at the German ace through slitted, silver eyes.

What an amazing bitch, Kate marveled.

A clink of metal on glass rang out. A goblet tipped and splashed water over part of the tablecloth, plates, and people.

“Aw, cripes, would you look at that?” Rusty was half on his feet, reaching uselessly after the mess. “Sorry. I’m pretty clumsy, don’t you know.” His iron jaw creased into a bashful smile.

The tension broke. At least for the next half a second or so.

John made a production of digging in an attaché case for a set of manila folders, which he distributed. Moving on, then.