Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Takes The Cake

“He wants me to go over an offer that Ms. Bjorn got for her house.”

“She’s selling her house?” Chase was surprised at that. The light changed and she started up.

“No, she’s not. That’s what he found odd. She got the offer out of the blue from someone who came to her door.”

Chase frowned as she turned the wipers to high. “You brought an umbrella, I hope,” she said to Julie. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing yet. I’m going over to talk to her tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll tell her not to take the offer. Professor Fear said the amount was ridiculously low. It sounded high to Ms. Bjorn because she bought her house so long ago and the offer is much more than she paid.”

After their dash through the rain, they arrived at the gym laughing. Jay Wright was waiting at the door for Julie. Chase made a beeline for the punch bowl. She would have to have a drink early so it would be out of her system by the time she had to drive home through the deluge.

Bart Fender stood at the punch bowl like he was guarding it and the delicious-looking cake beside the other goodies.

“Is it any good?” she asked the former star wrestler for Hammond High. She remembered he was a strong-looking guy back then, but his muscles were almost terrifying now.

His smile came across as strained. Maybe because of the acne damage to his face. “It’s all right. I’ve got a little something extra if you’d like to add it.”

“No thanks. This will be fine.” She dipped herself a punch cup of the red liquid and sipped. Sweet and gooey, with a tiny hint of rum. She wished she had been on the punch committee for this gala. Then they would have had decent punch. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about driving after drinking this.

“Do you think our boy has a chance this time?” she asked Bart, staring up at the “Vote for Rich Byrd” banners strung from the ceiling.

He turned his head and raised his eyes to them, displaying a shiny dome. “You got me.” He had had nice hair when he was younger, she remembered. Bart Fender had been a local hero, winning the state wrestling championship for Hammond both his junior and senior years.

“There you are.” Julie and Jay came to the table for some punch.

“How is it?” Jay asked.

Chase stuck her tongue out and pointed her finger to it, the universal symbol for “so awful it gags me.”

“Oh well,” Julie said. “It’s wet.”

A trio of men approached Jay. “We need an impartial judge to settle a bet. How much do you know about football?”

Julie groaned. “He knows just about everything.”

“Come over here, then. It won’t take but a minute.”

“Be right back,” Jay said, and left with them.

Bart had left, too, so Chase was alone for a moment with Julie.

They both noticed that Dickie Byrd’s voice was rising above the moderate din.

“I’d say the guest of honor is enjoying his party,” Julie said.

“Getting a little tipsy,” Chase agreed. “He sure isn’t getting looped on this insipid, sweet punch. It tastes like that fake strawberry flavoring that Anna tried out once. Awful stuff.”

“Look at Monique. I would say she’s not pleased, wouldn’t you?”

Chase saw her, a few feet away from the circle around her husband. She yanked at her hair, which prompted Chase to remember how she used to pull it out when she was stressed in high school.

“Oops. I’d say the campaign manager is upset.”

“Oh no,” Julie said softly. “Save me.”

“Julie, where have you been? I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to show up.” It was Ron North, who, Chase thought, must have been adding his own juice to the punch, too. He lurched toward them, leering at Julie and breathing out the mixed aromas of peanuts and whiskey.

Chase felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise.

“I heard you were part’a that real estate scam. True?”

“What are you talking about?” Julie inched away from Ron. Chase heard her breath quicken.

He stepped closer, invading her personal space. “The lowball offers. I know you’re involved.”

Julie gave an exasperated puff, backed up some more, and sipped her punch.

“You don’ wanna drink any a tha’ stuff. Here, I got good stuff.” He dug a small flask from his pocket and attempted to pour some into Julie’s cup.

Chase would have to remember to carry a flask at the next class reunion. Everyone seemed to know to do that but her.

Julie snatched her punch away before the stream could hit her cup and the strong-smelling bourbon poured onto the floor.

“Now look wha’ you did.” Ron gave Julie an ugly sneer. “You’re gonna have to make that up to me.”

Before either Chase or Julie could react, he grabbed Julie’s short brown hair, pulled her forward, and mashed her face into his.

Julie shoved him away, but he grabbed on to her silk scarf.

By that time Jay had seen what was going on and had returned.

“That’s enough, buddy,” he said to Ron, tapping his shoulder. “You need to leave this lady alone.”

Since Jay towered over him, Ron staggered backward, bumping the sturdy punch table. He managed to stay upright as he stuffed Julie’s scarf into his hip pocket, and put up his hands to fend Jay off.

Julie and Jay hurried away and Chase decided not to stick around Ron North any longer either. While everyone stared at the commotion, Chase crept away and left Ron by himself at the punch bowl.

Chase found some women who had been in her senior Honors English class and joined in their conversation about what they’d been doing since high school. Two were married with small children at home and three were working locally. They all showed interest in visiting the Bar None when Chase told them about it.

“Did you hear about Dillon Yardley?” one of the moms asked.

Two of them nodded but Chase said she hadn’t heard.

“Is she still in a coma?”

“A coma?” Chase asked. “What happened?”

“She tried to kill herself,” the first mom whispered.

“No wonder Bart isn’t having a good time,” said the other mom.

“Why is that?” Chase said.

“They were going together.”

Chase shuddered. Poor Bart Fender. He did seem pretty grim, but she couldn’t blame him if his girlfriend was in a coma. Bart approached Julie, who was talking to Jay. Chase saw Julie nod to Bart, then he moved away after handing her something small.

She saw Eddie Heath with a knot of former jocks, some of whom had let their football muscles turn to quite a bit of fat. She avoided being in that part of the gym.

Out of the corner of her eye, she also kept track of Ron North. He stayed near the punch bowl, talking with classmates as they visited it. She saw him in serious conversation, or so it looked, with the man who had been principal all this time, Mr. Snelson. He was a tall, imposing man, which had served him well as principal. He was also recognizable in a crowd because of his shock of snowy white hair. An older man, shorter and dumpier, wearing a vest that was too short to meet his belt, accompanied Snelson. Ron talked and gestured to both of them. He also splashed his bourbon into their drinks successfully.

The shorter man said something and angrily waved his hands, then walked away. The next time Chase noticed, Snelson had also left Ron. She spotted his snowy hair and saw the two men on the other side of the room talking with the monarch of the night, Richard “Dickie” “Rich” Byrd. Those three hung out at the foot of the stage, laughing and joking, three good friends to all appearances. Dickie’s voice still rose above the others, but Chase couldn’t make out what he was saying. The other two shushed him. He looked around, then lowered his volume considerably. Chase wondered if the other man was on the school board with Dickie.