Enter Stole (Harlem's Deck 3)

by Paul Smith

far more confidence in Elliot's abilities than he felt himself. And yet pride would not let him deny it, so the matter had been dropped.

  Thankfully Mark was not in attendance this evening, and Maria was tethered to her Dad for the night (“Between you and me, the old man's desperate to marry her off,” Ruffio confided, a little too loudly Elliot thought judging from the giggles on the far side of the water fountain) leaving him free to mingle and enjoy the resplendence that was City Hall in full gala mode. In additions to the veranda decking, part of the gardens had also been cordoned off and dressed for the occasion. They wondered through a midsummer night's dream, smiling and laughing at the various performers laid on to impress the guests and those few lucky members of the press permitted into the inner sanctum. Cameras and phones had of course been confiscated but it was almost inevitable after a function like this that there'd be some sort of scandal or other plastered across the front pages tomorrow morning.

  “Far too much flesh on show for something not to,” Ruffio opined, “not with this much alcohol on tap.”

  As the evening reached its climax, all the dignitaries gathered in the main hall for the house speaker's address, following which Jaret said a few words as current Mayor. Elliot had heard the speech several times already, he was a common mirror for the other man when preparing for such engagements, but still found himself impressed once again by his brother's eloquence and the amount of seemingly genuine belief he managed to cram into his words.

  At his side, Annalise was all carefully contained tears; it was these moments, Elliot knew, when she loved her husband the most.

  As Jaret surrendered the stage the evening's MC came forwards again – one of the current crop of brat pack actors, all slicked back hair and designer stubble. Elliot did his best to hide a sneer; Annalise liked his show, he dimly remember, though not for this heart throb in particular.

  “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special surprise. Fresh from a tour of the Delta, and if rumour has it possibly buying a house out in the 'glades, Ms Ishra Demontaire!”

  Elliot felt Jaret's wife go stiff next to him, almost choked on the mouthful he'd been about to swallow. What the fuck?

  Jaret's eyes found his from the side of the podium, nodded towards the door. Elliot offered a quick chin jerk of response, dropped his half finished glass onto a passing waiter's tray as he guided Annalise politely but firmly towards the rear of the room. Their departure earned them a few curious stares, but it was this or a possible scene.

  Better the lesser of two evils.

  Front page here we come. Really should know better by now...

  Jaret was waiting for them out in the corridor with Wilson and a rather harassed looking Dagmer.

  “Seriously Dagmer, what the fuck?!” Lise's voice, cutting through the male bullshit. She held up a hand, palm flat. “Sorry. I know its not your fault, but really...”

  “Wasn't it supposed to be Elana Day?”

  Dagmer nodded. “Apparently she fell ill this afternoon, so they had to improvise.” He looked from Jaret to Annalise. “I'm sorry, I genuinely didn't know who they'd found. Didn't even realise she'd returned to the city.”

  “Neither did we.” Jaret's voice, quiet, a layer of calm now cover the obvious overtones of seething anger. He glanced at Elliot, raised an eyebrow.

  Yes, you went there too, didn't you?

  Suddenly a cold chill was walking fingers up his spine, and the sound of the fairground blew through his soul.

  “Wilson, the car?”

  “On its way round.”

  Jaret nodded, turning to fold his wife in his arms. Annalise came to him wordlessly, though Elliot fancied he caught a spark of something in her eyes.

  “Oh, my stole...”

  ...and my jacket. Belatedly, he realised they were both in the coat check.

  “We'll have your things sent out to the house in the morning,” Dag assured her as he listened intently to his feed.

  “No need.” They all turned to find Ruffio stood in the doorway, Elliot's jacket and Annalise's stole draped across one heavily tattooed arm. “Best take this my lady, before I steal it,” he confided, passing her the stole before handing Elliot his coat with a wordless look. Elliot gave the minutest of shrugs, before turning back to his charges.

  “Ruffio, you're such a love.” Annalise stood on tiptoe to kiss the tall kya, who grinned broadly.

  “Yes, thank you my man. Get Elliot to invite you out to the house for drinks, if you can be spared during your stay?”

  Ruffio hung his head. “We fly back in the morning I fear, but next time definitely. I know Maria is keen to catch up.” Looking up, he stepped back with a wave through the doors. “Until next time, my friends.” And he was gone.

  Elliot caught Wilson's eyes on the door and smiled. Glad you don't have to deal with that, everyday, I bet.

  “The car's here,” the PA announced.

  “We've cleared you with the check points,” the agent added.

  “Oh Dagmer, you're a love.” Annalise turned on Jaret's arm, blowing a kiss after the retreating agent as they made their way out. True to the agent's word the car was already waiting for them at the bottom of the steps, engine purring like a jaguar in the cool evening air. The rear gull wing opened, and Jaret handed his wife through before stepping in himself. Elliot did a needless scan about before stepping abroad after them, pulling the door closed. With a throaty growl they pulled gracefully away, into the quiet night.