Juno was still filming when she reached them.
She had followed Mrs. Salcedo back to the chairs and kept the camera up as she turned. Cal put a hand in front of the lens, then took it away.
“Keep going.”
“What are we doing?”
Adrian answered before Cal could. “He's taking Gideon upstairs. To the hospitality suite. I asked him to.”
Juno lowered the camera a little, not stopping it. “Is someone from the hotel going?”
“They've spoken to him,” Adrian said. “I'll be up in a minute.”
He looked at Cal.
“Ten thousand. Put it on the bill. Just get him up there quietly.”
Cal felt Juno looking at him above the camera. He could say that wasn't necessary. He could keep his hands on the film, the job he'd actually come to do.
“I'll get him,” he said.
Adrian nodded. He glanced at B's open screen, where the little red mark showed it was recording, and made no move to stop her. Then Lena called his name from the floor, and he went back to her.
“You're filming this,” Cal told Juno.
“I am.”
“All right.”
He wanted a picture of himself doing a difficult favor for a man whose favor could change his life. It would be useful later. He turned toward the bar before Juno could ask another question.
Gideon had got a fresh drink. The bartender was putting a bottle back on a shelf and didn't turn when Cal came up beside him.
“Adrian's ready,” Cal said.
“Where?”
“Upstairs. Quiet room.”
“With Lena?”
“He wants to talk to you.”
Gideon raised the glass and drank. He had a little wine on the edge of his upper lip. Cal looked at it instead of the man's eyes.
“I said with her.”
“Let's get out of here first.”
“We're fine here.”
He looked over Cal's shoulder at Juno. The camera gave him a brief interest that Cal couldn't get on his own.
“You're still working?” he asked her.
She kept the frame. “Yes.”
“Good. Send me that thing. The shoes.”
Cal heard the words but didn't immediately understand them.
“Rafi said it was good,” Gideon went on. “He showed me a little. We can make something out of that.”
Juno shifted so the bartender could get past with a bin of empty glasses. Cal saw her face for a second. She said nothing.
“Come upstairs,” he told Gideon.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you're not doing it.”
The bartender looked at Cal now. A man standing at the far end of the bar turned, keeping one hand on his drink.
Gideon set his glass down. “I know what he wants. Go and tell him I'll speak to her. Not you. Her.”
Cal put a hand on the back of his arm.
“Don't do that.”
He removed it. He could feel the empty place where the hand had been, a small action he hadn't been allowed to finish.
“You're going to make a scene.”
“I'm having a drink.”
“He asked you.”
Gideon looked down at Cal's open bag, the camera inside it, then back at his face.
“He's asking you. You're good at that.”
Cal waited. Juno was behind him. He knew she was behind him.
“Tomorrow, if I call you, you'll come up,” Gideon said. “I'll say bring the thing, and you'll bring it. So don't stand here being his man. You're going to be mine in the morning.”
It was the casualness that got through. Gideon reached for his drink while he said it, not bothering to see whether the offer had landed. Cal hit him before the glass reached his mouth.
He hadn't meant to hit hard. He had meant to make the man look at him. His fist caught the side of Gideon's mouth, and the glass struck the bar without falling. Gideon staggered against a stool. Someone cried out, sharply, as though a plate had broken beside them.
Cal stepped after him.
“Cal,” Juno said.
The bartender came around the end of the bar. He put an arm out between them.
“That's enough.”
Gideon touched his mouth. Blood showed between two fingers. He looked at it, then at Cal. For a second Cal saw the man deciding whether to hit him back.
“Get somebody,” the bartender told another member of staff.
“No,” Gideon said.
He said it again, louder. He was still looking at Cal.
“Don't get anybody.”
The room had not stopped. The music went on, and half the dancers hadn't seen a thing. At the other end of the bar the man with his hand on the drink had taken his phone out. He was holding it at chest height, pointing toward them.
Adrian reached them. He looked at Gideon's hand, then Cal's face.
“I asked him to take you up,” he said.
“He hit me.”
“I can see that.”
Gideon looked past him for Lena. Adrian moved enough to stay in front of the view.
“Go upstairs. I'll come. We can talk.”
The bartender kept his arm out. Adrian told him they needed water, some ice, and that he would speak to the manager himself. The man hesitated. He looked at Gideon.
“Do you want me to call someone?”
“Give me a napkin,” Gideon said.
The bartender brought a stack. Gideon took one, pressed it to his mouth, then picked up his phone from the bar. He had not forgotten that, or the man who had hit him.
Cal took his elbow. Gideon pulled away so hard his heel caught the stool behind him. He stumbled, came back at Cal with one hand out, and Cal caught his upper arm and drove him toward the service doors.
Juno backed in front of them, filming. She had to turn sideways to miss a chair. Cal didn't tell her to stop.
“I can walk,” Gideon said.
“Then walk.”
He tried to turn back. Cal tightened his grip and pulled him through the door. Gideon struck the frame with his shoulder. The napkin fell, white and red, near the hinge.
“Let go of me.”
Cal let go. Gideon took two steps toward the ballroom. Cal caught his jacket, pulled him back, and put an arm across his chest from behind. It was ugly, badly balanced work. His camera bag swung against his hip, dragging his shirt sideways. Gideon's shoes slid on the polished floor.
Juno had her back against the far wall now. She said Cal's name once more, not loudly enough for it to be an instruction.
“Keep rolling,” he said.
He hauled Gideon another step. The man struck at the arm across him with his phone, caught Cal's wrist, then stopped because the phone nearly came out of his hand.
“Upstairs,” Cal said into his ear. “Then you can have what you want.”
“You don't know what I want.”
He wasn't shouting anymore. That made Cal loosen his grip. Gideon pulled air in, adjusted the torn edge of his collar and looked directly into Juno's lens.
“You got that?” he asked.
She didn't answer. She kept filming.
The service elevator opened at the end of the passage. Emilio stood inside beside an empty cart. He saw Cal's arm, the blood on the napkin Gideon had taken from his pocket, and held the door with one hand.
“Do you need help?”
“604,” Cal said. “Adrian asked.”
Emilio didn't move. Behind him, one of the kitchen staff shifted the cart so it would leave a path.
Gideon went into the elevator without Cal pulling him. He stood against the back wall, holding the phone and the damp paper. Cal followed him in.
Juno stayed outside.
“Take the rest of the room,” Cal told her. “I'll be back.”
The camera was still up when the doors began to close. Gideon looked at it until the gap had narrowed to a line. Then he turned his face toward Cal.
Neither man spoke on the way up.