Hearing a growl from his stomach, Brendan wandered over to the buffet table and picked up a finger sandwich and a cup of watery-looking punch. After a nibble or two, he concluded that the chef must have mistaken wallpaper paste for cream cheese. Though the resort’s in-house culinary staff was reputed to be quite good, Carrie had said that this particular function had been catered by an outside vendor as a favor to a wealthy prospective client. A pity, Brendan thought, as he looked around for an inconspicuous place to dispose of the toxic sandwich.
“Try the potted plant,” said a deep voice from behind him. Brendan turned to face a tall, impeccably dressed man with a strikingly handsome face and eyes that were dark yet somehow luminous at the same time.
“I beg your pardon?” Brendan said, not certain the stranger’s comment had been intended for him.
“Try the potted plant. You’re looking for a place to ditch the rest of that sandwich, right?”
“What? No, I…I was just, uh…okay, yes; you caught me. I was.”
“They’re pretty awful, aren’t they?”
“Awful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Someone should tell the chef that sandwiches aren’t actually supposed to contain sand.”
“Allow me.” The handsome stranger plucked the half-eaten triangle from Brendan’s fingers, strolled casually over to a tall tropical plant, took a quick look in each direction, and subtly dropped the remains of the sandwich into the large, brass cover pot.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Brendan said with a combination of amusement and awe as the man rejoined him.
“Hey, it’s not like I’m the first; there are four other half-eaten sandwiches and a shrimp puff in the bottom of that planter.”
“Oh, their poor housekeeping staff,” Brendan said with a groan.
“They’re probably used to it. By the way, I’m Lee.” The man extended his hand.
Brendan set his empty punch cup on the end of the buffet table and shook hands. “Brendan. It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for saving me from what could have been a gastronomic disaster.”
“My pleasure. It’s the least I can do for a fellow member of the tribe,” Lee said with a wink.
A bit startled, Brendan leaned in and said, “Sorry; I wasn’t aware that I was flaming so brightly.”
“Oh you’re not; you’re not at all,” Lee reassured him quickly. “It’s just that my gaydar is very finely tuned, and in a crowd like this, you really stand out.”
“Why? Because everyone else here is either straight or closeted?”
“Maybe. Or it might be because you’re the hottest man in the room.”
“Oh my. The sandwich is gone, but the cheese remains.”
“Sorry.” Lee looked down at the floor, chagrined. “I’m not usually so forward. I suppose I’m just bored, and I was hoping to find someone here with whom I could engage in a real conversation instead of all this corporate blather.”
“Then it’s only my mind you’re after? You don’t really think I’m hot?” Brendan chided.
“On the contrary, a good intellect makes a handsome man all the hotter!”
“I cannot believe the turn this dialogue is taking.”
“Would you rather I make a sales pitch to you and shove a business card in your hand?”
“Definitely not!” Brendan replied, holding up his hands. “Besides, it wouldn’t do you any good; I don’t work for the resort. I’m only here because someone very dear to me insisted she needed an escort for the evening. One could almost say she coerced me into accompanying her here.”
“Really put the pressure on you, huh?”
“Oh yeah. I wouldn’t attend something like this of my own accord.”
“I didn’t think so. You don’t strike me as the type who enjoys mingling with these corporate dinosaurs and uber-yuppies.” Together, they turned to survey the crowd. “I mean, you have to admit it’s pretty sickening,” Lee mused. “The phony smiles, the pretentious small talk, all the business cards flying back and forth.”
“You can say that again. I’ll bet there are Las Vegas casinos that don’t see this much card-shuffling in a year. So...we’ve already established that I’m not here on business this evening. What brings you into the midst of this school of barracuda?” Brendan asked.
“Believe it or not, I am here on business.”
“Really? Funny, but you don’t strike me as the type either.”
“Thanks; I’ll take that as a compliment. Actually, I’m--”
“Lee! Over here!” Lee’s exposition was cut short by a distinguished-looking man with graying temples motioning to him from a few yards away. Brendan recognized the man as Jonathan Burroughs, the resort’s CEO, to whom Carrie had once introduced him.
“Sorry,” Lee said with an apologetic expression. “Duty calls. It was nice talking with you, Brendan. Maybe I’ll see you around.” With that, he turned and walked over to where Mr. Burroughs stood talking with several other “suits.”
“Yes, maybe,” Brendan said under his breath as he watched his attractive new acquaintance walk away.