Descending the stairs, Rozie heard voices carrying out of the parlor. She raced down the steps as fast as she could, careening down the stairs. She came to a stop at the bottom step and recomposed herself before striding into the parlor.

  Her heart drummed in her chest, up to her teeth, Rozie entered the room, the smell stopped her at the threshold. The acrid aroma of spent gunpowder hovered in the air in a fog around the six men. Dom came close and gave her a kiss. There was more liquor on his breath. And—she saw the web of blood vessels in the whites of his eyes—pot.

  Rozie pulled away, face scrunching up as she met his eye. He shrugged when he saw her eyes searching.

  “Ben’s got glaucoma… and a doctor over in Lafayette who writes generous prescriptions—” He stopped short once he saw the look on her face.

  Ben strode in behind her before she could say anything about the pot or the other women or what she had seen in their room. Face drawn into a haggard frown, he tugged at the synthetic fabric of his long-sleeved fishing shirt, soaked through with sweat. Ben scanned the faces of the other men pointedly. When the conversation died down, he spoke.

  “Astrid, our head of staff, just confirmed that Riley left in the middle of the night. The security guard at the gate reported he left around two in the morning.”

  Over Ben’s shoulder, Rozie saw the older woman standing in the entrance hall, hands clutched together. Her face locked into its usual unreadable expression.

  The news washed over the group of men like a low beach wave, subtle, tugging at the ankles just enough to make a person fight to stay upright. They glanced at each other somberly. Until the chemicals in their systems buoyed them.

  When Rozie looked back toward the entrance, Astrid had vanished without a sound.

  Conrad flicked his wrist to glance at his watch. He commandeered the group’s attention with his steady gaze. “Coffee is being served in the dining room, along with some light refreshments. And stronger beverages if you prefer.” He winked.

  Dominic threw an arm around Rozie’s shoulder as they followed the other guests. His deodorant flagged after a morning in the heat and humidity, but standing next to him calmed her anxiety. She felt herself floating along, steered by his stolid presence. A welcome relief from the constant defenses she had felt herself constructing since they had begun this trip. She wished they could slip off somewhere. She wanted his assurance about Ben, and the thing in their room, her imagination. But Dom pulled her along, drawn to the sound of banter emanating from the dining room.

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  Her anxiety compounded seconds later, when she smelled the pungent coconut-scented sunscreen. Dread—the wives’ voices chittering like birds.

  “I dunno. I think I’d take a joint over a massage.”

  A long table dominated the center of the dining hall. At one end, a server stood behind an espresso machine. It was small by coffee shop standards, but still more extravagant than anything a conventional coffee drinker owned. It hissed out a foamy brown stream into a pair of measured shot glasses. The young man snatched up the espressos in one hand and made a show of pouring them both into a white porcelain cup. He spooned a calculated line of milk over the coffee and finished with a flourish, drawing a leaf design in the foam. A small bar occupied the table’s opposite end. A young man poured a Bloody Mary for Sophia.

  Sara and Willow hung on the edge of the table watching the barista at work. They glistened with the suntan lotion. Sara took a tentative sip from her coffee, and Willow stood by waiting for hers. A glass urn of iced lime and cucumber water stood between the coffee and alcohol. Condensation dripped down onto the towel beneath it. Rozie snatched up a glass, placed it under the chrome spigot, and filled it to the brim. She looked across the dining room. Alfie and Jon already stood at the table festooned with ornate bottles. The young man behind the makeshift bar moved on to cocktails. He poured the amber liquor generously into two lowball glasses.

  “Want anything?” Dominic asked as his feet carried him toward the bar.

  She held up her water glass and shook her head before shuffling toward the solarium.

  “When are we going to take things a little more seriously?”

  Rozie stopped at the threshold, frozen in place by the urgency in Tyler’s voice. She retreated a pace just before Conrad glanced back to make sure no one would hear their conversation.

  “Look, it’s important to all of us, but Ben’s really been studying the book. It’s amazing how close we came when we were just goofing off.”

  “Things are going tits up, man. It’s like my luck is wearing off.”

  “We’re all in the same boat,” Conrad said with a whisper.

  “Tonight. For real this time. A proper game.”

  “That’s the thing, Ty. It was never a game.”

  Rozie backed away from the door. A chill raced over her skin, unnerved by the surreptitious conversation. She found Dominic nursing a beer, standing with Alfonso and Jonathan. She looped her arm through his as more unanswered questions swirled through her mind.