Delusion Road by Don Aker Page B

better, I occasionally have a bad hair day.”
    “So there
is
a God.”
    She suppressed a laugh. “How does it taste?” she asked.
    He blinked. “How’s
what
taste?”
    “The crow you’re eating.”
    “I’ve had better,” he said.
    “Too bad. We Jaffreys usually serve only the best.”
    Now he was the one laughing, and she liked what it did to his face, smoothing out those stern lines on his forehead and crinkling the skin around his eyes, which she noticed were grey. Like pewter with hints of silver melted into it.
    He put both hands up as if in surrender. “You think maybe we could start over?” he asked. “Pretend yesterday didn’t happen?”
    She studied him for a moment, considering his suggestion. After all, he
had
apologized. Besides, there was something about him that intrigued her, something vaguely mysterious, although she had no idea why she’d think such a thing. She held out her hand. “I’m Willa Jaffrey,” she said.
    “Nice to meet you, Willa Jaffrey.” He took her small hand in his large one and squeezed it gently. “Keegan Fraser.”
    His handshake surprised her, and it was more than the heat of his skin against hers, more than the obvious strength she sensed in his grip. Something else, like the feel of her fingers sliding into a glove that fit perfectly.
    She pulled away. “They’ll be opening the doors in a few minutes. We should get inside.” She turned and led him across the foyer toward the gymnasium.
    The space looked nothing at all like the recreation centre it had been two days before. Bolts of rich fabric covered theconcrete walls and formed brilliant backdrops for the various gaming tables scattered throughout the huge space. A temporary bar made of dark walnut lined the far wall, and young men and women dressed in black slacks, white shirts, and red bow ties stood behind it involved in last-minute preparations. Positioned on an equally temporary platform was a tuxedo-wearing quintet tuning their instruments, and in the centre of it all stood a sculpture made of roses arranged in the shape of the Rotarian emblem. The place looked spectacular.
    Willa couldn’t help but feel proud. It was her father who’d come up with the idea of Casino Night five years ago, ditching all those little flea markets and rubber ducky derbies for something much bigger and far more fun. As a minor, she couldn’t gamble or drink alcohol, but she didn’t care—she was there to support her dad. Besides, Brookdale’s social scene didn’t offer many opportunities to show off an Arthur Mendonça original.
    She found herself wishing once more that Wynn were there with her, but he’d called an hour ago to say he was running late. So, as weird as it was, it turned out to be a good thing that Keegan had shown up. Not that she couldn’t have handled her station alone, but it would be far more enjoyable having someone there to make fun of the over-forties with.
    Keegan scanned the room. “Where’s your boyfriend? Home reading
The Mountain and the Valley
?”
    Picturing Wynn hunkered over a book, Willa almost laughed. “He’s coming later,” she said, then turned and made her way across the large room, leaving Keegan to trail in her wake.
    “So, what’s my job?” he asked when he’d caught up to her at a long table.
    “Punch patrol.” She pointed at an enormous crystal bowlsurrounded by dozens of sparkling glasses. “I pour the stuff and make witty conversation. You keep me supplied with punch and clean glasses from the kitchen.”
    “And you
volunteered
for this?”
    “Didn’t
you
?” she asked pointedly. “Look, it could be worse. We could be on cleanup duty. Besides, I don’t expect we’ll be too busy. There’s no alcohol in the free stuff.”
    “My luck,” he muttered.
    This time her laughter just slipped out.
    They were a lot busier than she had expected, and Keegan’s decision to “volunteer” turned out to be timely because Wynn had cancelled on her—he called to say he