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up.
“Oh, no. You can’t go—”
    “What is all this about, Laura Lee?
If you don’t tell me right now, I’m going home.”
    “Ah, there he is.” Again she was
looking over Wetzon’s shoulder.
    Wetzon turned. A slim, bearded man in
a gray Armani suit with a black tee and no tie was shaking Fabio’s hand,
patting his shoulder. Leaving Fabio, he came toward Wetzon and Laura Lee, a
smile on his face. He was carrying a yellow leather backpack.
    A wide expanse of scalp cut a path back
from his forehead to the top of his head.
    Wetzon knew him from somewhere. Where
had she seen him before? She looked at Laura Lee, puzzled. Laura Lee pointed to
the banquette from which Wetzon had risen. Wetzon sat down and waited for the
arrival of the mystery guest. His progress was slow because he was meeting and
greeting everyone in the room as if he were some kind of celebrity.
    When he finally reached their table,
he cheek-kissed Laura Lee, straightened, and offered Wetzon his hand. “Leslie
    Wetzon, I presume?” He had a small
hand with plump fingers. On his wrist was a watch that told the time in every
world capital.
    Wetzon waited for the introduction.
    Laura Lee smiled. “Wetzon, darlin’,
this is Hem Barron.”

Chapter Eight

     
     
    “It’s
exploratory,” Hem Barron said. His smile was so intimate that Wetzon could barely keep from
crossing her hands over her breasts.
    Twirling her empty beer glass, she
noted that Laura Lee was assiduously avoiding eye contact. “Of course, a red
herring.”
    Hem fished the olive out of his
martini and ate it. “We’re just in the proposal stage, you understand. Not for
public consumption.”
    “Oh, I see.” Wetzon nodded. “Not for
public consumption. Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
    “Your friend is very funny,” Hem told
Laura Lee. He focused sincere brown eyes on Wetzon’s bosom.
    “My friend is very smart, Hem,” Laura
Lee retorted, “so let’s cut the schlag .”
    Hem’s composure never even wavered.
“It was my idea,” he said. “I gave the girls their start-up money and kept an
interest in The Groaning Board. No need to say I stand to make a killing on the
transaction.”
    “I’m sure the girls are just
filled to overflowing with gratitude,” Wetzon said, staring hard at her friend.
    “They should be, but it’s very
disappointing,” Hem said. “A.T. is more grateful than Micklynn, I’m sorry to
say. Micklynn doesn’t want to go forward with it.”
    “That’s why we didn’t want this to
get out.” Laura Lee sighed and gave Wetzon a pleading look.
    “Actually,” Hem said, leaning close
to Wetzon, “Micklynn hasn’t even seen the prospectus. When it’s polished up and
we have a chance to convince her, I’m sure she’ll go I along.”
    Hem was wearing some kind of exotic
cologne that was making Wetzon’s nose itch. He was oleaginously sure of
himself. She couldn’t resist asking, “What if she doesn’t?”
    “That’ll never happen, believe me.”
Hem tilted his head to Laura Lee. Her turn to pick up the ball?
    “Wetzon, what we’re askin’ is how you
found out. Even Micklynn doesn’t know—”
    “Excuse me? Micklynn doesn’t know?
About her own! company going public? How did you manage that? Isn’t she a
partner?”
    “Of course, Micklynn knows,” Laura
Lee said. “It’s just that she’s always been the hands-on person with the
catering, and A.T. has handled all the business arrangements.”
    “A.T. is my sister,” Hem said. “It’s
in the family, you might say. Bringing The Groaning Board public will allow the
girls to expand the business with the demand. Hire more support—”
    Now where had Wetzon heard that
before? “Expanding is: not always the best thing for either the firm or the
owners.” She reached into her briefcase, pulled out the white envelope A.T. had
mistakenly given Smith, and handed it across the table to Laura Lee. “Smith is
having a catered affair.”
    “Smith is Wetzon’s business partner,”
Laura