Genuine Lies

waggled, and his trio of chins swayed in tandem.
    He’d gone from being a husky, literate director of major films to an obese, weedling director of minor ones. Most of his wealth had been amassed in the fifties and sixties in real estate. Lazy at heart, he was content to sit on his comfortable portfolio and eat.
    Just looking at him made Eve shudder to think she’d been married to him for five years. “Tony.”
    “Eve.” He leaned heavily on her chair, waiting for air to fight its way into his lungs. “What’s this crap I hear about a book?”
    “I don’t know, Tony. You tell me.” She remembered what fine eyes he’d once had. Now they were buried under layers of flesh. His hand pressed on the back of her chair—a thick meat patty with five stubby sausages. Once those hands had been big and bruising and demanding. They had known and enjoyed every inch of her body. “You know Paul and Drake.” She reached for a cigarette to coat some of the bile in her throat with smoke. “And this is Julia Summers, my biographer.”
    He turned. “Be careful what you write.” With his breath back, his voice had a hint of the full-throated power of his youth. “I for one have enough money and enough lawyers to keep you in court for the rest of your life.”
    “Don’t threaten the girl, Tony,” Eve said mildly. It didn’t surprise her that Nina had come to the table to stand silently at her other side, ready to protect. “It’s rude. And remember”— she deliberately aimed a stream of smoke toward his face— “Julia can’t write what I don’t tell her.”
    He clamped a hand on Eve’s shoulder, hard enough to have Paul starting out of his chair before Eve waved him down again. “Dangerous ground, Eve.” Kincade sucked in another spoonful of air. “You’re too old to take risks.”
    “I’m too old not to take them,” she corrected him. “Relax, Tony, I don’t intend for Julia to write a word that isn’t the sterling truth.” Though she was quite sure her shoulder would ache in the morning, she lifted her glass. “A good dose of honesty never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
    “Truth or lies,” he murmured. “It’s a long-standing tradition to kill the messenger.” With that, he left them, weaving his way through the crowd.
    “Are you all right?” Nina murmured. Though she kept a placid smile on her face as she leaned over, Julia could see the concern in her eyes.
    “Of course. Jesus, what a disgusting slug.” Eve tossed back champagne and grimaced at her crème brulée. The visit had ruined her appetite. “Hard to believe that thirty years ago he was a vital, interesting man.” A glance at Julia made her laugh. “My dear child, I can see those literary wheels turning.
    We’ll talk about Tony,” she promised, patting Julia’s hand. “Very soon.”
    The wheels were turning. Julia sat silently through the after-dinner talks, the comedy act, the glossy production number. Anthony Kincade hadn’t been annoyed by the possibility that Eve would reveal their private marital secrets. He’d been furious. And threatening. And there was little doubt in her mind that his reaction had pleased Eve enormously.
    The reactions of the men at the table had been just as telling. Paul had been ready to haul Kincade off by his flabby nape. The man’s age and health would have made no difference. The flash of violence had been very real and very shocking when it had sprung from a man sipping champagne from a tulip glass and wearing a tux.
    Drake had watched, taking in every detail. And he had smiled. Julia had the impression that he would have continued to sit, continued to smile if Kincade had wrapped his beefy fingers around Eve’s throat.
    “You’re thinking too much.”
    Julia blinked, then focused on Paul. “What?”
    “You’re thinking too much,” he repeated. “We’ll dance.” Rising, he pulled her to her feet. “I’ve been told when I’ve got my arms around a woman she finds it hard to think at all.”
    “How did you manage to tuck that ego in your tux without it showing?”
    He joined other couples on the dance floor, then gathered Julia close. “Practice. Years of practice.” He smiled down at her, pleased by the way she fit into his arms, excited by the fact that the dress dipped in the back, low enough so he could slide his hand up and touch her flesh. “You take yourself too seriously.” She had the loveliest jaw, he thought. Very firm, slightly pointed. If they