Page 57 of Fire Dancer

I set it down beside her water bottle and moved on.

“Juice?” I asked the next guy — a muscled football player type.

“Yes, please.” He helped himself to two and downed each in a single long gulp, then placed the glasses back on the tray.

Next came a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty who could have starred in a Bollywood movie, then a serious — and seriously buff — young man of Asian heritage.

All in all, a United-Colors-of-Benetton-meets-Olympic-team kind of bunch: they represented every race, creed, and color, including two plus-sized beauties.

Same deal each time. Everyone gladly took a juice — or two.

Not so noteworthy, but that was in addition to the liter-sized water bottles each person kept at hand, and most of those were down to the last drop.

Apparently, consulting was a very thirsty business.

By way of experiment, I poured a dozen cranberry juices, and those went just as quickly. So, huh. Thirsty, indeed, because cranberry juice never went fast. Not a picky bunch, these Benetton Olympians.

Meanwhile, I was starting to reassess the dance troop/cheerleader/athlete hypothesis, because all those things took energy. This gang was as lethargic as sloths at high noon. Maybe they ate a high-fiber diet that was really, really hard to digest.

Some were snoozing, while others just stared off into space. One woman leaned back, turning blind, cucumber-clad eyes to the sky.

Definitely a laid-back group.

All except for two big, hawkeyed men who stood at opposite corners of the pavilion. They wore suits and sunglasses and kept their hands at their sides. Their necks were as thick as my waist, and their gazes roved the area continuously. When I approached them with drinks, they shook their heads and looked over my head, like I was just another patch of empty space.

Nancy, over at the kitchen door, shook her head, indicatingNot those two.

Interesting. What cheerleaders — er, consultants — came with a security detail? And, wait a second. The security guys seemed to spend more time facing the consultants than the outer perimeter. Were they keeping people in or out?

They hadn’t asked for ID or checked me in any way, but maybe Nancy had had me precleared.

Anyway, the young people barely acknowledged the existence of the security guys. So, huh. Maybe they were some kind of pop stars who used security to keep fans at bay while they enjoyed the peace of this remote resort.

For the next few minutes, I imagined a dozen different glamorous and scintillating scenarios, each blessing these men and women with lives far more exciting than my own.

“God, I love this part of my workweek,” one of them quipped. “The recovery stage.”

The others chuckled.

Recovery, huh? Maybe they were athletes after all. That would explain the sweatbands most of them wore around their wrists. So, maybe they were athletes who had just returned from a very taxing competition in a different time zone. I made a mental note to look up what events I’d recently missed.

When I circulated with my third load of drinks, a peppy, outgoing blonde named Kelly followed me, dispensing pills. Big ones, fit for a horse.

“One for you, and one for you…”

She was behind me, but I didn’t hear a singleNo, thanks.

“Gotta keep up your iron,” she chirped.

Enough iron to stick to a magnet, judging by the size of those pills. Maybe they had other stuff in them too. Stuff a lowly caterer like me had no business asking about.

I threw another glance at the security guys, then looked away.

The guests didn’t rush forward when we set up a table with food — not even the football player. So, I piled some hors d’oeuvres on a tray and made the rounds again. Which wasn’t really in my own self-interest since Nancy generally let me take leftovers home. But, heck. If those poor dears were so low in iron and hydration, they probably lacked other nutrients too.

That worked, though most guests treated food as an afterthought. They treated me the same way, and conversations that had been hushed during my first few rounds now continued without missing a beat.

“Vic…not my favorite. Henry is much gentler,” one of the guys said to another.