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“He’s one of my oldest friends,” I answer. “I see your point. Still, this isn’t the time to do something like this, and whose idea was it for everyone to get naked?”
“I don’t know,” she says in that sing-song voice that I don’t want to hear right now.
“It was your idea?” I ask.
She shrugs. “So what? I’m a little drunk and I wanted to see if everyone would actually do it. By the way, this having power thing is fantastic. I haven’t even done anything and people I’ve seen on the news are dropping trou.” She starts laughing. “Sorry,” she says. “I heard that from Mike Humphry a little while ago and itstillcracks me up.”
This isn’t happening. “Why don’t we go inside and talk a minute?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I’m mad at you.”
“You’re mad at me?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “I was right in the middle of a perfectly wonderful conversation with Loreen LeFleur, Janella Swiss, and Nyla Th—”
“What are you doing?” I ask. “What is this? Have I offended you in some horrific way I don’t know about?”
“What’s the matter withyou?” she asks. “After everything I’ve been through these last couple months, I’d think you’d support me having a little fun.”
The funny thing is, I know she didn’t cheat on me. Still, she’s not acting like herself, and I’ve seen it happen so many times, I know exactly what’s happening.
“Grace, we need to go inside. Grab your clothes. I’ll get everyone home and you and I can talk. There are some things about this kind of life you need to understand,” I tell her.
“Nah,” she says. “I’m good. Hey, come back in, you guys!”
I turn to find about a dozen of my stupider guests peeking their heads around the corner, watching us. As soon as Grace gives the green light, though, everyone’s getting back into the pool and the hot tub. Not everyone disrobes this time, but I still see a lot more of very familiar people than I ever wanted.
“We’ve got to go,” I tell her.
Grace leans back, saying, “Where are we going?”
“How drunk are you?” I ask.
“I only had a couple of drinks, but ever since I got in this hot tub,woo!” she says, wiping her brow.
Thirty people echo, “Woo!”
“Come on,” I tell her. “It’s thinning your blood and making you loopy.”
“I know,” she says. “It’s kind of fun.”
“No,” I tell her. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you.”
“Why do you think I told everyone to come back in the pool?” she asks.
Ever since she came back, I don’t know if it was Amelie, or exactly what it was, but Grace’s starting to lose herself the same way nearly everyone I’ve ever met who came into this lifestyle has. I can’t let that happen.
I’m not getting through to her this way, though, and I need to make sure I can get everyone out of here without flipping my lid. Without a word, I start back around toward the back door and inside the house.
Making my way through the party toward the kitchen, I’m bombarded by three separate senators, each a little too inebriated for distinguished conversation. I politely, then impolitely, push my way past.
As usual, nobody’s in the kitchen, because nobody wants to risk having to clean anything, but when I hold my hand above the stove, I can feel the heat rising from it. There’s a bottle of Sambuca on the counter and I ever so clumsily tip it over onto the still-hot burners.
By the time I’m on my way out and back to dodging politicians, smoke is starting to creep out of the kitchen. It’s not long before someone yells, “Fire!” and everyone’s running for the doors, though not in every case the nearest ones.
As I come onto the deck, the people outside start to catch word. Before I’m to the side, everyone but Grace, nude or not, is running in some crooked direction away from the house. Finally rounding the corner I see Grace putting her clothes on.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “I heard something about a fire?”