The room of the rental was massive. To one end sat the bar, manned by a very attractive, well-dressed bartender of unreadable gender. Beside the bar, a stereo system piped both sound and flashing lights from the built-in speakers at each side. Floor-to-ceiling windows and doors, opened to coax in hot breezes, offered a view of the wide sky and ocean beyond the building, and a pang of jealousy shot through Gerry’s chest when Deidre and Mark stepped through one to move out to the balcony. Why exactly he was being led to the other end, where a group of bodies groped each other on a settee in the darkened corner, beside a fireplace that was for unknown reasons not just burning but roaring, amid what seemed to be a sea of empty drink glasses and overflowing ashtrays, Gerry couldn’t say. But Phil’s grip on his arm was firm, if not uncomfortable.
Gerry cleared his throat and tried to tug his arm free. “I should find Mark,” he said cautiously. “He said he wanted me—”