Helena and Shane watched the fireworks in a long moment of silence,
punctuated only by the whumps of canisters launching, the crackling
thunder and lightning that was laying down a thick gunpowder haze in
the air. On the road below, cars crawled by like beetles with halogen
eyes, moving wearily between nest and feeding grounds.

Behind them, the festivities were in full swing, with Carmen filling
the time between auctions with an eclectic mix of trance, club, house,
techno, EuroPop and every now and then, something dark and moody.
Helena pushed off the wall with a soft exhalation. “I should go back
inside and mingleshake the money tree.” Her laughter felt a little
hollow but she’d been raised to honor that sense of duty that called
her now.

Shane nodded, her shaggy hair falling into her eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.
What time’s the next auction?” Carmen’s next break, and the familiar
push pull between wanting to be there and wanting to run away.
Sometimes, the depth of what she felt for the DJ bordered on
paralyzing; other times, it was only terrifying.

Helena rotated her wrist, checked her watch. “Ten minutes, give or take a few.”

Shane hoisted her half-smoked cigarette. “Enough time to finish then.”

“Yesenough time for that.”

“Yeah, OK,” Shane waved one hand. “See ya inside.”

A jaunty pop tune was just starting up when Helena walked back in
through the doors, an artificial smile on her face that didn’t reach
her troubled eyes. Tina made her way across the floor, looking so
beautiful that Helena could almost stop breathing just looking at her.

“How about a dance?” Tina asked with a femme-flirty tilt of her head

Helena’s eyes widened, flitted around the room.

“She’s at the bar,” Tina read her look. “Besides, we won’t be touching. It’ll be safe.”

Regret lay on their faces like skin, eyes teared, smiles were forced as
Helena gestured toward the dance floor, in the thick of the crowd. If
Bette was drinking heavily again, Helena didn’t want to spark another
ugly confrontation. She was too well bred to start one in any event;
her family’s rigorous training in the social graces was too thorough,
brittle in her bones but compelling nonetheless.

They let the poppy beat and Italian lyrics lighten their mood, if only
for a few minutes. By the end of the long dance mix, Helena’s hand was
resting lightly in the small of Tina’s back and they were singing along
with the chorus:

E vola vola si sa
sempre piu in alto si va …
E vola vola si va
sara perche ti amo

Bette watched them, eyes darkening in rage. She looked around the room
for prey. Two could play this game. Helena saw Bette moving in on
Leigh, and tried to steer Tina away from the sight, but she was too
late.

Tina shrugged. “Let’s go outside.”

“Yeh,” Helena smiled. “The terrace. Not the pool.”

Tina’s face softened and she felt a familiar and not unwelcome flush of desire move through her.

“Definitely, we need to stay away from the pool. At least for now.”