"I thought you were deliberately ignoring me." Brian pulled Miriam a little closer and stepped lithely past an approaching duo of horribly inept tango dancers.

"I can't work and play at the same time, Brian." She opened a slight space between them for emphasis.

"And what work would that be, Miriam?"

"Mapping out my future."

"And how is that going?" He asked sardonically.

"I'm optimistic." Her expression declared any more questions out of bounds. "Speaking of work, how is yours going?"

"I'd like to say I'm optimistic too, but pressure from across the pond is building. Our competition is clumping like kitty litter. If we don't watch ourselves we could be under attack."

"You mean... merger?"

"Hush, Miriam! That's blasphemy at a WesCat function."

"But a possibly considered option, no?"

He changed the step and guided her between the other dancers to a more remote part of the floor. "With Mister and Mrs. Weston holding the majority of the shares, I would say no."

"Ah yes, fifty-five percent, I believe."

"Yup. Forty and fifteen."

"Oh really!"

Brian drew his head back and looked at her. "You say that with a hint of more than just curiosity."

Miriam gazed back into his dark eyes, trying to penetrate the glib façade that was Brian Cathcart. "So Barton's not as bullet as proof it might seem." He held her gaze with his own. Two wary survivors stepping carefully around one another. "Is there a message of some kind in there, Miriam?" They turned gracefully and threaded their way back across the end of the dance floor.

"I don't know, is there? Of course, it's all hypothetical shop talk on a shop night, right? A bit of a game."

"This is more than just a game, Miriam. This is a very dangerous game."

"And you would do well to remember the players." She captured his eyes with a cold glare then softened the moment with a demure pout.

"Consider me reprimanded," he smiled timidly, spinning her back into the middle of the dance floor, their bodies crushed together to avoid any collisions.

"Speaking of games, shouldn't you be playing right now?"

"Playing what?"

"What you seem to be neglecting, priming pumps for WesCat."

"Have you actually taken a good look at some of the pumps I'm supposed to prime?" His eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Young and single and so fussy. What a shame."

"Fussy enough to select one of the prettier partners for this dance." They executed another twirl past the bunching couples.

•••

"Thank you for rescuing me, Myles, but could we just sit for now, my feet are killing me." Disappointed, but ever gallant, Myles led Moira to a window seat beside the screen of a giant fern that spread magnanimously from a white plaster urn and affording them some privacy. "And would you be upset if I asked you to bring me a strong gin and vermouth?" Myles stopped mid sit and rose, inclining his head politely and sliding off toward the bar. She watched him go, amused at the ease with which the boss's wife could manipulate the lesser ranks.

Moira slipped off her shoes and massaged her feet, sharing sympathetic smiles with other wives dancing past wearing toe crushers and ankle breakers. Myles returned, smoothly sitting beside her and holding the glass at the ready until she replaced one shoe and sat up. He picked up the subtle scent of her perfume and inhaled, holding his breath.

"You're a pet, Myles. Thank you so much." She sipped the strong drink and rolled her eyes, emitting a long satisfied sigh.

"I think it's rather crass of Barton to use you like he does at these functions." He said exhaling loudly and brushing the fern away from his ear. Moira studied him without replying, taking another casual sip from her drink. "I uh- I- perhaps I shouldn't have-"

"No, perhaps not... but thank you for thinking of me." Her hand slid warmly onto his and Myles jiggled on his chair, the twitchy moustache joining the rhythm.

"I uhh- I wanted to ask," he lowered and steadied his voice, retrieving his hand and keeping it busy with the errant fern. "Have you heard any gossip tonight among the guests or... or any mention of a- a merger of any kind?"

"Merger? With what? Whom?"

"WesCat and a member of our competition." Myles looked about, watching for eavesdroppers.

"No. Barton would never consider such an idea." Moira gulped down the last of her drink and sat twiddling the glass stem.

"Be calm, Moira. Just asking. One hears all kinds of rumours and gossip at these things. Doesn't hurt to know what the drums are saying." He wondered if he'd stepped in something with his question.

"Of course. I'm sorry. I suppose I'm just tired and would love to get home and into bed." She automatically handed him her glass while she slipped her other shoe back on and stood up. "Thanks again, Myles."

He watched her thread her way through the dancers and momentarily savoured another brief waft of perfume highlighted by a fanciful image of Moira in bed.

•••

Brian tossed a throw away greeting to the only other occupant and went to the last urinal, next to the wall. He ignored the harsh scent of deodorizer and instead focused on the calming landscape photo at eye level, one of a series positioned over each stall. The picture was of a windswept beach covered in large, gnarled chunks of driftwood and his eyes blurred as he let his mind drift. What was dear old Miriam up to? Was she propositioning me in some way? Why was the news about the Weston's shares so surprising and interesting? He finished with a quick shake and tucked himself in, zipping up and moving to the sink.

The air drier came on with a deafening whirr and he wiggled his hands under it cursorily and left. Could he do that, he wondered? Could he actually consider a move to grasp control of the WesCat tiller?

Everything was winding down. Couples headed for the lobby and the bank of elevators, beginning new conversations and extended good nights. Barton stood with Moira, shaking all the meaty hands and blowing air kisses past scented cheeks. The rest of the management dutifully stood by, adding their own compliments and social pleasantries. With the last of the guests safely shipped downward in the padded cabins of the elevators, the WesCat entourage joined in one final drink together before saying good night.

"Some nibbles there, I think." Barton raised his glass and drank heartily. "Any good news?"

"Hartford Sykes expressed interest in the new upgrade," Peter said. "I'm having lunch with him next week."

"Hartford Sykes is a dickhead." Barton barked. "He expresses interest in the latest bloody comic books for Christ's sake!"

Peter coloured and his eyes hardened. "Still, a sale is a sale, Barton, right?"

"Send a salesman then. I don't need to spend your salary lunching with the likes of Sykes." The rhyme brought a smile to his lips and he waved a hand. "I'm sorry, Peter. Go ahead. Sell the bastard. I guess I'm a little edgy over the comments flying around tonight."

"What comments?" Brian asked, suddenly alert.

"Regarding mergers."

"So it's true!" Myles blurted. Brian closed his mouth and pinched his lip thoughtfully.

"What's true?"

"Well, I mean- well there were rumours floating about tonight."

Barton shrugged his shoulders tiredly. "What did you hear, Myles?"

"Uhm well- well nothing really..." Barton gave him a withering glance. "I mean- well- just some talk. Nothing- nothing concrete."

"Unlike the goddamn mixture between your ears!" Barton thundered.

Recognizing an over liquored capacity in Barton, the group all shuffled around saying good night and drifting toward the lobby.

"I think it's time we went to our home too, dear." Miriam looped her arm through her husband's and staged their departure with an elegant bow and a complimentary verbal appreciation for the evening.

•••

"That was an excellent example of foot in mouth bumbling, darling." Miriam set her purse on the antique hall desk and continued straight on up the stairs, leaving Myles to close down the house and lock up. Abatha would be sound asleep in her room at the back.

"It took me by surprise," he said to his wife's back as he finally entered the vast bedroom. "I didn't think Barton would have heard those rumours." He hung his jacket on the valet and sat on the bed to remove his shoes. "I asked Moira but I don't think she would have said anything to him."

Miriam paused wiping her cream off her face and found him in the mirror. "You asked Moira?"

"Yes..." Defensively. "She was dancing with most of the men there at one time or another. I just assumed she might have heard something."

Miriam stared at him a moment and then nodded, continuing to clean her face. "Yes, I suppose so. Did she hear anything?"

"No. She was- she seemed surprised and then- then I got the impression... I don't know, like she found that interesting... the possibility of a merger." Myles took off his trousers and hung them with his jacket and strode off to the washroom. "Barton had no right to say the things he did. With the right people, a merger could be a very profitable move." He called back.

"Indeed..." Miriam wiped her face with a fresh tissue and stared at her image, her mind churning with a naughty thrill.

Myles rolled over and snapped off the bed light, snapping it back on immediately and squirming around to look at his wife. "What did you say?"

"I said. Did it ever occur to you that if you could get Moira's shares along with some of the others you could quite possibly gain control of any voting at WesCat?"

"Miriam, I have five percent. Moira would never go against Barton and with just Brian and Peter we only total thirty."

"You're forgetting the out of company shares."

"All of them would only bring it up to forty-five, we'd still be in the minority. And I don't think we could get them all anyway." He rolled back and his thoughts became confused. "Why are you mentioning this anyway? Why on earth would I want control?" The question faded slightly as the thought tracked through his mind.

"I don't know," she sighed wriggling into a comfortable sleeping position. "I guess when you suggested that Moira seemed... interested, the thought just popped into my head."

"The thought. What thought?"

"That if you wanted to you could somehow charm the others out of their shares. Good night, dear."

Myles stayed awake for a long time.