Deep ivory evening suit.
Long blonde hair falling over one shoulder.
No sunglasses.
No clutch hiding half her hand.
She looked like herself from the garage and completely unlike herself at the same time.
Then Jake saw the banner.
THE WESTON FOUNDATION ANNUAL BENEFIT
HOSTED BY CLAIRE WESTON
He laughed quietly.
Claire reached him.
“You came.”
“I considered developing a sudden illness.”
“What stopped you?”
“My daughter threatened me.”
“I like Lily.”
“Of course you do.”
Claire looked him over.
“Clean.”
“Don't get used to it.”
She offered her hand.
Jake took it.
Claire smiled.
“Still angry?”
“Moderately.”
“I can work with moderately.”
They entered the ballroom.
Jake spent the first thirty minutes learning that rich people could ask insulting questions with extraordinarily polite grammar.
“What sector are you in?”
“Automotive repair.”
“Oh.”
Always the same “oh.”
Not hostile.
Just recalculating.
One executive asked:
“You own multiple shops?”
“One.”
The man nodded sympathetically.
“How quaint.”
Jake smiled.
“Your car ever break?”
“Yes.”
“Then quaint becomes useful fast.”
Claire nearly spit out champagne.
Later, a silver-haired executive approached.
Victor Hale, Weston Global board member.
Claire introduced them.
Victor looked at Jake’s hands.
“A mechanic.”
“Yes.”
“Claire always has interesting guests.”
Jake smiled.
“You should see my customers.”
Victor laughed as if Jake had made a joke.
Jake had not.
Another man joined them.
Graham Pierce, president of a manufacturing subsidiary Weston Global planned to acquire.
Forties.
Perfect tuxedo.
Perfect hair.
Perfect expression of someone who believed every room was a negotiation.
“Claire.”
He kissed the air near her cheek.
Then looked toward Jake.
“And this is?”
“Jake Calloway.”
“Mechanic.”
Claire said it deliberately.
Graham’s smile flickered.
“How refreshing.”
Jake knew immediately he disliked him.
Graham spoke about the acquisition.
Manufacturing expansion.
Production efficiency.
Equipment reliability.
Claire tried changing subjects twice.
Graham ignored it.
Jake listened.
Machines.
Finally something familiar.
Graham said:
“The plant's unexpected downtime is mostly operator error.”
Jake looked toward him.
“What kind of downtime?”
Graham paused.
“Industrial equipment.”
“What kind?”
“Automated assembly systems.”
“Symptoms?”
Graham smiled politely.
“I doubt—”
Claire said:
“Answer him.”
Graham looked at her.
Then Jake.
“Thermal shutdown.”
“Intermittent?”
“Yes.”
“Same machines?”
“Mostly.”
“Same shift?”
Graham’s smile disappeared.
“What does that matter?”
Jake shrugged.
“Could matter a lot.”
Graham looked toward Claire.
“Claire, surely this evening isn't the place—”
Jake interrupted.
“You've replaced coolant pumps?”
Graham stared.
“How would you know?”