Page 9 of Hoodoo House
“Now, before you two head out, I have to get a picture,” Carrie said, pulling out her cell phone.
“Carrie,” Charlie whined.
“I’m not going to miss getting a picture of you looking this fine. The next time might not be ‘til your funeral.”
“Come on,” Declan said. “Where would you like us?”
“Over there,” Carrie said, pointing to a wall covered in large framed photos.
Declan led Charlie over to the wall, and pulled him near, putting his arm around his waist. They let Carrie take several shots before Declan said, “We should probably be heading out.”
As Charlie passed Carrie, Declan heard her whisper, “So sweet. Just like going to prom.”
“Bitch,” Charlie whispered.
“That’sjealousbitch to you,” she whispered back.
* * * *
The limo pulled up under the ornate marquee of the Fairmont Palliser Hotel. The doorman instantly appeared and opened the door of the car. Charlie slipped out first, hoping that maybe a photographer would be there to notice them. Declan exited the car with less haste. As he did, an older man burst through the hotel doors and scurried down the steps. He looked like a rat escaping a cat. His nose was aquiline with a hooked tip. On his upper lip he sported a wispy, unshaped moustache which nicely complemented what little hair he had on the top of his head. His teeth were somewhat crooked and bucked.
“Mr Hunt,” he wheezed out. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Charlie wondered if they were late. He checked his watch and they were only a few minutes behind schedule.
As the man caught his breath he said, “I’m Roger Honeyfield, Chair of the ALGBTQ+BA. I’m your host for this evening.”
Honeyfield reached out his hand towards Declan, who shook it firmly. Honeyfield then turned to Charlie. “And you are?”
“Charlie Watts. I’m with him,” he said, pointing to Declan.
“Charles. So nice to meet you.”
“It’s Charlie—”
Honeyfield cut him off abruptly, turning back to Declan. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here waiting for you when you arrived,” he said as he leaned in towards the open car door, “but your driver didn’t give me the requisite notice…like he said he would.”
“I did call you in time. Maybe if you’d had your phone turned on…” the driver answered in a sarcastic tone.
“That’ll be enough from you, Douglas,” Honeyfield snapped, slamming the car door as he did.
Honeyfield sighed. “To think I used to date him.” He shook his head and sighed again. Charlie looked at Declan, stifling a smile.
“If you’ll please follow me,” Honeyfield said as he scurried back up the stairs ahead of them.
When they arrived at the entrance to the event’s venue—the Crystal Ballroom—Honeyfield pulled the two aside and confessed in a hushed tone, “We have uncovered a little…challenge that I would prefer not to get out. Many of our…members”—he rotated his head to glower at the other guests in the room—“would love to get wind of this. They’d do anything to see me fail.”
He leaned in closer. “I was the one who, unfortunately, nominated Frasniak. How was I to know he was a crooked politician, or at least a politician who was inept enough to get caught? They’ve had their knives out for me ever since. And now this!” He paused for a moment.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Roger, what isthis?” Declan asked, in a hushed tone. Charlie was enjoying himself.
Honeyfield continued, “The award, of course. The medallion we’re presenting to you. It’s been inscribed with that moron Frasniak’s name, not yours.” He grabbed Declan by the sleeve of his jacket. “If they ever find out, I’m done for.”
Declan smiled and took Honeyfield’s hand. “Roger, don’t worry. My job is to keep secrets. I’ll make sure no one finds out.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much,” he said as he spun on his heels and entered the ballroom.
“Really? ‘My job is to keep secrets’?” Charlie whispered to Declan with a grin.
