"You look very pretty tonight, Veronica." Tom could feel his palms sweating like some kind of pathetic teenager's. Veronica Channing had that kind of an effect on him--he could practically feel his wrists growing longer and dangling beyond the cuffs of his tuxedo, his face breaking out and his armpits becoming satellites of the Great Salt Lake. He was reduced to an adolescent when he was around her.
"She does indeed." Ron Schuyler appeared out of nowhere, a glass of scotch and soda in one hand and a besotted look on his face.
Apparently Tom wasn't the only one with a crush on Veronica. But I'm not married. Schuyler is. Although that didn't seem to matter to Ron Schuyler, or his wife from what Tom had heard. "Nice party," Tom said. "I hear your wife was instrumental in pulling it all together."
"That's my missus," Ron said after slurping up some more scotch. "Mavis has always been instrumental in a lot of things and she's especially fond of these more civic minded things.."
"Is she all right?" Veronica asked. "We heard that she'd be kidnapped--has anyone been arrested?"
"Not yet. I'm sure it was no big deal though. When you have a lot of money that kind of thing is always a possibility."
Veronica and Tom exchanged glances. Ron sounded like getting kidnapped was just one of those annoying things rich people had to endure, like paying taxes on yachts and having to choose between Harvard and Yale for their spoiled offspring. "I guess I wouldn't know about that," Tom said.
Ron sipped his scotch. "I don't suppose you would. You shouldn't have quit working for me, Tom. You'd be making a pretty decent income if you'd stuck with Schuyler Industries."
Tom ground his teeth silently. He'd work for fast food bosses who were better leaders than Ron Schuyler and he'd rather be flipping burgers than still employed by the Schuylers. "I guess none of us know a good thing when we have it," he finally said.
Ron tried to peer down Veronica's dress. "Ain't that the truth," he remarked.
Tom really hated this guy. Ron Schuyler was arrogant, pompous, moronic and way too rich. How was that even remotely fair? Glancing at Veronica, he could see that she was uncomfortable too. Another mystery of life: how had someone as sweet as Veronica ever fallen for Ron's line of slime?
"I need to find Kirk," Veronica announced.
"Who?" Ron asked.
Veronica stared at him evenly. "Kirk. My son."
"Your son is coming to the ball?" The smirk finally left Ron's face.
"He bought a ticket," Veronica replied. "Perhaps you'll finally have the opportunity to meet him."
Ron's face went from flushed to an unattractive shade of green. "I'm not feeling well," he said. "We'll have to make it another time."
"Well," Veronica said as soon as Ron fled. "I certainly know how to clear a room, don't I?"
"He doesn't seem to want to meet your son." Tom waited. Maybe Veronica would finally confirm what he was sure was true: Kirk Chandler was Ron's child. His stomach churned at the thought.
"He may not want to but he's going to," Veronica said darkly. "He's going to meet Kirk very soon. I think that after 27 years a father should meet his child, don't you?"
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