The Complete Where Dreams - Volume 2 of 2

Chapter 4-2

Bill couldn’t believe he was doing this. He had a thousand things to get done and here he was playing Seattle tour guide to a tenor and his supermodel girlfriend. They’d flown in together for tomorrow’s first rehearsal of Ascension.

This was Wilson’s kind of job, but he was rubbing shoulders with some of the high-rolling donors at the Seattle Men’s Club.

Jerimy had dropped the kids off with Bill’s sister for a couple hours, god bless Lucy, and he’d been dragged out on the town. He and Lucy had issues that made it hard to be in the same room together, but none of them were about his kids.

In her soft French accent, the towering blond model, several inches taller than Perrin, had suggested this Cutters Crabhouse place and he’d tagged along. He knew the whereabouts of every IHOP, Mitzel’s, and pizza house in all of Seattle. In-crowd bars and upscale waterfront restaurants, not so much.

This place was near the Pike Place Market and oozed urban professional without actually flaunting it in your face like so many modern bars. It was all chrome and high tables with tall leather stools. Waiters in black pants and white shirts scooted about looking immensely sharp, unhurried, and efficient all at once. A wall of windows looked out toward the Seattle waterfront and the Market. Actually, if he ever again in his life found time to have a date, this would be a nice place to bring her.

“Perrin!” The model cried out while they stood in the entry debating between the bar and the restaurant.

There couldn’t be two women in Seattle named Perrin.

Sure enough, he spotted the woman at the far side of the bar making grand and ridiculous gestures as if reenacting the Greek battle at Troy for an audience of hundreds instead of the one man who sat with her.

Bill couldn’t believe Perrin was here. But her hair, hanked back into a ponytail, revealed the swirling blond stripe that proved her identity even at this distance. She still wore the black opera t-shirt, now partly covered by a knit vest of a rather electric blue.

She was sitting by the window, practically huddled together with some far-too-handsome man. Bill and Carlo di Stefano dutifully followed in the model’s wake, who was so cliché that her waist-length blond hair actually floated along behind her. In moments, the two women were embracing like long lost sisters.

“Melanie,” Perrin responded in full, bubbling flight. Again, the madcap waif revealed herself in full airhead-blond mode.

Assuming she really was blond with dark-dyed hair, rather than dark-haired with a blond stripe or….

“You’ve never met Josh, I don’t think. I’d introduce you, but he’s married and he’s mine if his wife ever leaves him because it is sure he’ll never leave her. He doesn’t even waver when I throw myself at him.”

The model towered over the seated man, fists on hips. She glared down at Josh. “You would deny my friend Perrin? What sort of a cad are you, monsieur?”

“A happily married one, I’m afraid.” He smiled easily up at the long blond.

“Pity, or I might try to steal you from her. You are so very pretty,” the model sighed, then leaned down and kissed him cheerfully on both cheeks.

“He is awfully pretty, isn’t he?” Perrin agreed.

Bill wondered if all women were mad in this day and age. He was so out of touch with “the scene” now. Not that he’d ever really been in touch. He’d met Adira during senior year of college and that had been it for him. She’d been his quiet center, the diametric opposite of Ms. Perrin Williams in every way.

Introductions were made and they moved to a larger table. He ended up sitting farthest from Perrin, clearly she was a favorite. What he found interesting was he felt a bit put out by how the seating wound up. He hadn’t been jealous of Josh Harper when he’d first spotted them so obviously enjoying each other’s company.

Had he?

Gods above, maybe he was the one who was going mad.

No, he was simply bothered by the fact that she was sitting there chatting with someone over lunch when she should be back in her shop working on the new designs. Though she had her libretto and sketchpad with her, closed, he noted with some chagrin. He did his best to not grind his teeth while finding something to chat about with Carlo while his model girlfriend ignored both of them.

The problem was that while Carlo could sing beautifully in several languages, he spoke only German and Italian fluently. Bill’s German was almost as bad as Carlo’s English and his other languages were nonexistent beyond what was needed to manage opera schedules and stage directions.

Here he was in an urban watering hole, which was slowly filling with the young and beautiful of Seattle. And all he really wanted was to go fetch the kids and bribe their happiness with take-out pizza.

One of these days he was going to have to kill Wilson Jervis. At least sitting kitty-corner from Perrin, he was able to watch her, for he couldn’t seem to look away.