When the last of the B-list stragglers had been ushered out the door and the trio of leather-babe waitresses had changed into street clothes and departed, the A-listers began helping themselves to fresh drinks and settled beside the pool on large cream velvet cushions that had materialized from somewhere. The chef and his assistant appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray of glossy marinaded pork ribs and a platter of seafood. These were laid upon the marble counter that ran the length of one wall of the patio. The chef opened up the polished steel lid of an oversize barbecue unit that was fitted into the counter.
Amanda watched them idly as she sat beside the pool. She stretched her legs and twiddled her toes, freed at last from the glamorous constraints of her shoes, and was interrupted by Margo, dropping onto the cushion beside her and whispering in her ear.
“Hey, babe, I think you should make your pitch before this mob gets too pissed. We’ll eat and then you talk, yeah?” She kissed Amanda’s ear and Amanda shivered.
“That’ll be great. Are you sure this is okay?”
Margo chuckled into her neck. “Of course, this lot know there’s no such thing as a free lunch—and anyway, I think they’ll go for it. Sydney loves novelty.”
With the last of the dishes of gnawed-clean ribs and lobster shells cleared away, the chef’s assistant returned with platters heaped with shining black cherries, then the two men made their farewells and were gone. Margo stood up and clapped her hands to gain the attention of her cherry-nibbling friends.
“You know why you’re here. I’ve got a very juicy deal for you and you know when Margo says it’s a deal, it’s a deal. You’ve all met the gorgeous Amanda McIntyre…” The light applause and more ribald sounds of appreciation bounced around the patio and Amanda stood up beside Margo and smiled, feeling slightly on edge and a little embarrassed.
“So I want you to settle back and listen. All the documentation you need will be available and in your in-boxes by the time you get home. Any questions and Amanda will be available to help you. But I don’t anticipate anything but an over-subscription here, quite frankly, my darlings. This is the deal for you and I’m not even going to throw in the steak knives.”
Laughter tittered around the patio and Margo gave Amanda a proprietorial hug and kiss on her forehead before returning to sprawl on a long cushion by the pool.
Amanda moved to stand beside a tall, white leather-and-chrome kitchen stool, her laptop at the ready and wired to a portable screen that Margo had pulled out of its casing and erected. “You’ll have to come another time,” she had whispered to Amanda. “We have great porn nights. It’s so much fun.” Amanda had shivered and thought for the first time in weeks of Natalie. She had not responded to Margo’s giggle because her mind went into a sudden panicked race around the possibility that Margo meant lesbian porn. What if she were familiar with Natalie’s oeuvre? What if she had seen Amanda’s apartment? Amanda told herself to stop being such a dope.
She ran her finger across the mousepad and woke up the sleeping laptop. Immediately the opening image of three days of concentrated and surreptitious work leapt onto the standing screen.
In blue type on a pale gray ground were the words “Two Moon Bay—ethical equity.”
Amanda casually stripped off her jacket and hung it on the stool back. Her lightly tanned and muscular shoulders and swelling breasts were revealed and the silk, string-strapped cami she wore showed as much as it covered. Around the gathering she could feel rather than hear the response, and she smiled at them all in turn as they lay on their cushions, faces strobed gently by the light reflecting from the pool. It reminded her of a scene from an impossibly decorous Fellini movie. She smiled again.
“First of all I’d like to thank Margo for press-ganging you all into sharing this lovely evening.” Amanda smiled as snorts, hoots and muffled “hurrahs” rose around the pool. “I don’t know how often you’re summoned by her mysterious invitations, but I know you must be intrigued at the promise of making money and feeling good about it, all at the same time. With the global financial system in freefall and worse, it’s an interesting prospect, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Amanda paused, wondering exactly what in hell she thought she was doing. These people wouldn’t give a starving panda a stick of bamboo, never mind invest in a fishing village because it would make them feel good. She glanced down at her laptop’s screen and as she saw the first words she had written, she squared her shoulders and began to speak.
“It’s a myth that the value of assets will just keep on rising,” she told her audience of skeptical professionals. “This current global financial crisis is proof of that. Bear Stearns, Merrill’s, Lehman’s—Elleron Frères, my bank—they all forgot the downs because the ups had been so up for so long. And quite frankly, we got greedy, careless and lost sight of what the system should be about. Pardon me for maybe sounding like Pollyanna, but they forgot about truth, belief, trust and faith.”
She swiped and clicked the touchpad and an image flashed onto the screen of a group of happy, laughing children on the beach at Two Moon Bay.
“To work properly, healthily and into the future, the system must ultimately be about people—and kids, because kids are the future.” She looked around at the faces peering up at her and wondered how many had children. “If kids’ parents don’t have jobs and businesses, if the infrastructure of a kid’s community isn’t solvent and sound, then there’s no future.”
She maneuvered the cursor and clicked the touchpad again and as Mozart wafted across the patio, a slideshow filled the screen with depictions of Two Moon Bay’s businesses and people: in a warmly colorful, rolling wave the screen was filled with the wharf and its resident pelicans, the fishing boats, the cafés, shops and the arts and crafts gallery. The deli and its suppliers whose smiling faces proffered their wares for Amanda’s camera. There was goat’s cheese, sheep cheese, Renee held up a traditional aged Cheddar cheese. An elderly woman stood proudly in front of a table that groaned under jars of jam, pickles, and chutney; slabs of quince paste, craggy loaves of bread, honey and wine vinegars.
A craggy-faced fisherman and his two peach-freckled kids stood beside a slab on which lay glistening silver fish and gleaming heaps of crustaceans. Two smiling women held up glasses of luscious looking red wine and it was obvious to the audience that they were lesbians and that the three children standing in front of them holding up a handmade sign that read “Two Moon Bay Barolo—come and try it!” were theirs. In the final image, a group of townspeople and their children stood on the point overlooking the beach and the children carried another homemade, rainbow-painted banner that read “Truth, belief, trust and faith—Two Moon Bay—a great place to live. A great place to visit.”
As the screen image morphed into a dramatic image of storm clouds, edged in silver, looming over the bay and its little boats, Amanda moved to stand in front of the screen.
“Two Moon Bay,” she said slowly and clearly, “is also a great place for investment. I have proposals and plans for all levels and requirements. And, what I believe you will find most exciting—in the current climate of mistrust and what I’m going to call ‘banker hatred,’” she paused for the nervous titters to subside, “this is ethical investment. It’s hot, it’s happening and it’s proven to be one of the safest places to put your money. It’s a different shade of blue chip and believe me, it’s a gorgeous shade of blue!” She paused for more laughter. “So I’d like you all to think very hard about giving yourselves a unique Christmas gift that will keep on giving—to you and to the people you’ve just seen here.” She gestured to the screen. “I think this could be the beginning of something very big and very powerful. And you have the opportunity—now—to get in at the start. Thank you for listening and thanks for being here.” She dropped her head in a sketch of a bow and the applause was, she realized with pleasure and relief, real and sustained. And Margo sat in front of her wolf-whistling with ear-splitting expertise.
* * *
When Amanda awoke, Margo was nowhere to be found. Instead a note lay on the nightstand, written in thick, bright blue ink on a sheet of pale gray notepaper. “Darling,” Amanda read, “You looked too peaceful to disturb. Speak to you later. Had to dash—board meetings. You were wonderful. A really great fuck! Margo.”
Amanda groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. Then she sighed, got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. She turned the shower jets full on and cold, took a deep breath and stepped into the blast and shrieked as it woke her fully and without mercy. Ten minutes later she read the note once again and couldn’t decide whether to be affronted or amused. She was still in two minds when her phone rang. It was Malcolm.
“Hi, party girl, how’s it hanging?”
Amanda rolled her eyes and was glad she had dressed before exploring the empty penthouse.
“I’m fine, Malcolm, and as far as I’m aware, nothing is hanging that shouldn’t be. How about you?”
“I’m at a loose end. Finished my chores and wondered whether I could pick you up earlier. No worries if…”
“Fine, absolutely fine,” Amanda interrupted him. “I can be ready in ten minutes.”
There was a significant silence from Malcolm then a sigh, which sounded like relief.
“Ah, so Margo hasn’t seduced you away from us, then?”
Amanda squeezed her eyes shut and was glad he couldn’t see her as her skin prickled with embarrassment.
“Of course not,” she said brusquely. “Don’t be silly. Will I see you downstairs in ten?”
“Whenever you’re ready. I have to confess I’m parked right outside.”
* * *
“If we can get people to agree to sign up to this—on both sides—I think we can get Two Moon Bay salvaged and working again,” Amanda finished triumphantly. Malcolm had listened with his mouth open as she had described the cocktail party and the after-party for would be investors.
“Good grief! You mean the global financial crisis isn’t going to get us after all?” he exclaimed, slapping her knee joyously.
“Not if I can help it.” Amanda grinned. She was happy that he seemed so enthusiastic and even happier that he had yet to ask her what happened after the after-party. She had no desire to talk about it, think about it or share it with Malcolm. Not now, not yet, maybe not ever. She nervously felt for her shirt collar, to make sure it was standing upright and covering her neck. The gesture mortified her all over again. What was she going to say to Eleanor? What was she going to say to Clancy? She shuddered and closed her eyes and prayed that Malcolm would neither notice nor ask questions. At least not for a while.
“I checked Eleanor’s plane,” Malcolm interrupted her thoughts, and she was grateful. “It’s on schedule and we’ve got time to grab a coffee at the airport before buying the pink helium balloons, toy koala and anything else we can think of that will mortify her.”
Amanda grinned and slid her hand along the back of the seat to give his neck an affectionate squeeze. “That was real thoughtful Malc, old son,” she said. “Thanks.”
Malcolm glanced at her. “You okay?” He sounded anxious.
“I’m fine, just a bit tired.” Instantly she realized what she had said and hurried on, “Selling Two Moon Bay to Margo’s high-powered hotshots was pretty full on, and I’m out of practice, frankly.”
“I bet,” he said and Amanda couldn’t tell whether or not he had swallowed her explanation. Malcolm drove in silence and Amanda closed her eyes and laid her head back against the headrest. It was a bad idea, immediately her thoughts returned to the previous night.
It was a stupid thing to do, but somehow not possible to avoid. As Malcolm negotiated the twists and turns and narrow streets and traffic lights through Darlinghurst and Paddington she tried to analyze why that was. It wasn’t that she had felt obligated because of Margo’s hospitality; nor was it gratitude for her action in setting up the evening so Amanda could sell her Two Moon Bay wares, but more her sheer bludgeoning—if charming—insistence. Finally, after the last of the would-be investors departed, Margo had brought out a bottle of very old, very pale cognac and two brandy balloons. They’d resumed their companionable positions on the white cushions and Margo splashed cognac into the glasses.
“This is the best cognac,” she’d said, as she held up her balloon to the candlelight and swirled the viscous tawny liquor around it. “It doesn’t come out for just anybody.”
Amanda had smiled and held up her own balloon to gently clink it against the other.
“I’m honored,” she said, looking at Margo across the top of the balloon as she inhaled the mellow fumes. “You’re spoiling me.” She sipped the cognac and inhaled around her tongue to fully appreciate the smooth flavor and well-mannered bite as it slid down her throat. “That’s awfully good,” she commented and set down the balloon on the pool’s edge.
“I feel like spoiling you,” Margo said after a moment. She opened her mouth and poured in the brandy in a greedy, lavish gesture. “Drink up, we should have more and really enjoy it.” Without waiting for Amanda to take another sip Margo picked up the bottle and sloshed more cognac into the glass.
“Wait up!” Amanda laughed. “I don’t have much of a head for this kind of thing.” Nevertheless, she lifted the glass to her lips and drank; it was delicious in a fiery, somehow thrilling way.
“Would you like something else to snack on?” Margo slipped off her shimmering sharkskin tuxedo and flung it onto a handy sun lounger.
“No, I feel like a Strasbourg goose, I’ve eaten so much,” Amanda said, and smiled. The bronze freckles that covered Margo’s bare shoulders and biceps mesmerized her. A heavy, flat gold chain hung around her neck and was settled, snakelike, into the curves and planes of her collarbones. A body-hugging, low-cut tank top shimmered silkily in the candlelight and emphasized small, taut breasts and erect nipples that made Amanda’s breathing hasten a notch. Margo lay back on the cushion to pour more cognac into her mouth and revealed a heavily-freckled sinewy, swan neck and a six-pack that Amanda immediately wanted to reach out and touch.
“Like what you see?”
Margo’s breathless voice came from deep in her chest. Amanda looked away but it was too late. She smiled and drank deeply, swirling the cognac around her mouth in sensuous kindled heat before she swallowed and felt it going all the way down.
“I do actually,” she said softly as she licked her lips. Her tongue seemed to have absorbed most of the fumes and all the alcohol as the smoothly lethal cognac seeped through her veins. Before long it reached the point in her brain where disinhibition was lying in wait. She felt it happen and also knew that the result was that she didn’t care.
“Let’s have a swim before bed,” Margo said and got to her feet. Amanda watched, hazily, as Margo unclipped the band and laid her Piaget on her tuxedo; the diamonds around its bezel glittered in the flickering candlelight and Amanda stared at them, thinking of fireflies in Connecticut.
“Come on,” Margo said softly. “It will be gorgeous.” She held out her hand and Amanda stared at it for a moment before allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.
“I haven’t brought anything for swimming,” she said and it sounded stupid, even to her cognac-affected ears.
“We don’t need anything for swimming.” Margo smiled at her and reached for the cami and pulled it loose from her pants. “Don’t tell me you’ve never gone skinny-dipping.”
Amanda giggled and shook her head. “No, I can’t tell you that,” she said. “But I haven’t done it in the middle of a city.” She looked around at the nearby apartment buildings and realized that when they were in the pool they would be invisible to most. Even so I don’t think I care.
“Well, I’m going for a dip and I’m hoping you’ll join me.” Margo stripped off her tank top, dropped it on the lounger and unbuckled her belt and unzipped her pants. They dropped around her ankles and she stepped out of them, hooked them with her foot and threw them on the lounger. All the whi
le her eyes penetrated the shadows and skewered Amanda.
Amanda couldn’t help but look at Margo. The definition of the abdominal muscles was even more acute on her unclothed body and a black thong concealed nothing. She slipped her fingers beneath it and dragged it down revealing a triangle of pubic hair that was both trimmed and black. Her thighs were as sinewy and muscular as the rest of her body and the bronze freckles were not interrupted at any point by paler skin. Amanda ran her tongue over dry lips and drank down the last of the cognac in two convulsive swallows. As if hypnotized, she began to undress, but her fingers fumbled. Margo stepped forward and tugged the camisole over Amanda’s head and grinned at Amanda as she unhitched her belt and pulled down the zipper in one slow, deliberate buzz of tiny, disconnecting teeth.
“Want to keep your undies on?” Margo whispered and the grin, a slash of rich, dried blood lipstick, widened and she cocked her head on one side.
“No, that seems rather silly,” Amanda said, her voice sounding firm and clear even though her tongue felt thick.
Margo knelt at Amanda’s feet and looked up into her eyes as she carefully drew down the cream pants and held them as Amanda stepped out. Amanda heard Margo’s intake of breath as she frankly surveyed the body in front of her. She knew she was nowhere near as buff as Margo, but it was a good body nevertheless.
“You’re even better than I thought,” Margo said softly and tossed the pants on the lounger. “Let’s get these off,” she pulled on the boxers and in the time it took for Amanda to close and open her eyes they were on the lounger with the rest of the clothes. “Cute bra,” Margo commented as she stood and reached around Amanda’s back for the fastening. Amanda’s nipples tightened immediately as the night air and a perhaps unintentional brush of Margo’s hands woke them to their free state.
For a long moment they stood, close and not touching, the sounds of the Sydney night not as loud as their breathing, then Margo’s grin crinkled the corners of her eyes again. “Last one in’s a wuss,” she said and before Amanda could move, she stepped onto the pool edge and dived in making a splash that barely dappled the surrounding water. Without hesitation Amanda followed her and hit water that was as soft and warm as sun-baked silk. The feel of it on her naked body was both unfamiliar and natural and she surfaced, flicked the hair and water from her eyes and took off along the pool in Margo’s wake.
Silver Lining Page 24