Reid wasn’t thrilled to get out of the hot
tub, especially now that Stacy had shown up, and in a bikini she
borrowed from his wife Elena that was slightly too small, but he had a
tournament to run.
“Nice party,” Stacy said. “You’re good at
these.”
“Well the last one, if you remember, it
didn’t end too great,” he said, toweling off.
“If you’re worried about Henry,” she said,
“don’t. He’s probably not even coming.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Reid said,
concerned more actually about Cavanaugh making an appearance than
Henry, but what could you do. “You playing?" he said.
“It looks kinda fun. But I don’t have the
right shoes or anything.”
“Forget that, you’re fine as is.”
Stacy shook her head and smiled just a
touch. “And you’re still a piece of work,” she said.
The party was to celebrate the opening of
the paddle court. Reid had done most of the construction himself, which
he would rather be doing, period, than pushing people’s money around.
It was technically platform tennis, with the raised deck where you
could play balls off the screens, the version he’d grown up with in
Darien, not the silly hardcourt one they played out here.
One neighbor had caused trouble,
challenging the permit, convinced it was pickleball and would be noisy.
Reid tried to reason with the guy and offered him and his family
unlimited access to the court. That didn’t work so he had to fork over
25 grand to get him to shove it up his ass, which he now regretted with
his own circumstances tightening up.
It hadn’t been the greatest week with
Elena. On Thursday she stormed out and spent the night at her mother’s.
But today they were getting along fine, and she’d been
doing her thing, looking elegant in a gold lamé top that showcased her
latest work (there was a new doctor in Bel Air she swore by),
introducing everyone and making sure the drinks were refreshed and that
the
appetizers kept coming.
There were 11 teams entered in the
tournament, and Reid was going with a complicated double-elimination
format that he hoped would resolve itself. He’d hired Duke and Allison,
a couple of local pros, to kick things off with a demo, though he
didn’t see either of them at the moment, nor Elena for that matter.
Reid sat down at the little tournament desk
outside the court, picked up his trusty bullhorn and announced that all
players were required on court, now.
While he waited he checked his phone,
considered the text that had come in, and then deleted it.
One of the caterers tapped him on the
shoulder. “Sir, apparently there's a situation,” she said.
