The Interior (Red Princess 2)

“What about my clients?”

When David raised an eyebrow inquiringly, Keith continued: “Okay, so they aren’t my clients exactly, but I still feel responsible for them. I may not be the name partner, but I’m the one the clients talk to day to day.”

“Who are you working for?”

“In the firm? Miles, of course.”

“Some things never change.”

“Oh, they change, all right.” There again was that bitter tone.

“How do you mean?”

“David, you don’t want to know. I mean, you’d recognize the place. We’ve got the same carpet and draperies and oak desks and all that shit, but, man, we’re at the end of the millennium. Practicing isn’t the same.”

“We all get burnt out,” David offered, but Keith just shook his head and took another sip of brandy.

After a pause Keith said, “You didn’t ask me out to dinner to catch up. What’s up? You want to come back to the firm? You throwing a bone my way? If I get you to come back, I’d be guaranteed a bonus at the end of the year.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then both cracked up. David realized that it was the first time this evening he’d seen anything of Keith’s old sense of humor.

“It’s not that, but when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I doubt it. The name partners talk about you all the time. I’m surprised you haven’t heard from them yet.”

David thought about the unopened invitations he’d thrown away, but before he could follow up, Keith’s smile faded and the moment passed.

“So what do you want?” Keith asked.

“It’s about Knight International. Since Tartan’s buying the company, I thought you could tell me about it.”

“Anything I could tell you would fall under the auspices of privileged information.”

David waited, hoping Keith would say more. Instead Keith took another swallow of brandy, then waved his empty glass in the air to signal the waitress he wanted another. As Keith brought his hand back down, David noticed it was shaking. Had he been nervous all night?

“Come on,” David said at last. “What’s Knight up to these days?”

“Why are you asking? Is this some Justice Department investigation? Because if it is, you’re way out of line.”

“That’s a leap! I ask a simple question and you give me that?”

Keith shrugged. “I told you. Things are different at the firm. We have to be careful of outsiders.”

“I’m not an outsider.”

“But you’re not bound by what I tell you either.”

“The way you’re talking makes me think you or the firm or Tartan has something to hide. Lighten up! I just wanted some background on Knight. I thought you’d be a knowledgeable source.”

“Do me a favor and read about Knight in the papers.”

The conversation had taken a bizarre turn. Sweat had formed on Keith’s forehead, and he wiped it with a napkin. His face was flushed—from drink, from anger, from the heat of the room, David couldn’t tell. But there was something more here. Since when wouldn’t an old friend answer a simple question? Did Keith think it was some kind of ethics test? And that nonsense about an investigation? All this was probably just the alcohol talking. David could wait to ask his questions until tomorrow, when Keith would probably call and say his head hurt like hell and he was sorry for acting like such an ass. Instead David decided to lay his cards on the table.

“My girlfriend…” It was strange to call Hulan his girlfriend, but what was the proper word? He cleared his throat and tried again. “My girlfriend lives in China.”

Keith grinned, his mood switching again. “Liu Hulan. I never met her, but I remember you talking about her. When we first met you were about as brokenhearted as they come. I heard you reconnected, shall we say?”

David ignored Keith’s kidding. “One of her friends had a daughter who worked at a Knight factory in China,” David continued. “I didn’t know they had factories over there.”