“I think it's going to rain and the air pressure can cause a ringing in the ears,” he whispered.
“Yeah, but it's really loud. Why isn't it happening to anyone else?”
“They're probably ignoring it.”
A shattering crash sounded from behind the bar, startling the crowd and urging Tamara to her feet. The crowd turned the heads in unison, most wearing an expression of annoyance with the bartender who was busy trying to prevent another shelf of bottles from toppling over like its neighbor to the left had done, causing the resounding crash.
“A little help!” he shouted to the waiters, who were frozen in terror. The hiss of champagne, wine, and liquor spraying from over two dozen bottles nearly masked the noise of the tiny laughter, but Tamara could hear it. Through the showers of alcohol Tamara caught a glimpse of a pair of tiny shimmering wings.
“Did you see that?” she hissed to Hayden.
Taking her hang gently Hayden pulled her back into her seat and whispered, “Accidents happen all the time. This doesn't mean anything.”
“You didn't see the wings?”
“No,” Hayden shook his head.
“Why don't we just skip straight to dinner tonight, folks ?” Mr. Herold, the senior partner and owner of the firm said with a nervous laugh.
“Sounds like a plan!” Tamara said loudly enough for the entire room to hear. The crowd errupted in laughter and the tension that had been hanging in the air began to dissipate.
“You heard the lady,” Mr. Herold laughed, “Let's eat.”
The room quickly filled with waiters carrying appetizers. Tamara wasn't too fond of the dry salads they always offered, but she couldn't say no to the mozzarella sticks.
“At least the food is good,” Hayden said, although he was still watching the bartender and a couple of servers trying to clean up behind the bar.
Tamara was about to make a sound of agreement as she bit into her third mozzarella stick, but a clanging racket made her swallow hard and jump to her feet again. Several of the servers had dropped platters of food and drink. Large spots of the floor were splattered with various globs and heaps of what should have been the party's dinner. The distant laughter sounded again, but this time Tamara wasn't the only one who heard it.
Mr. Herold was on his feet and stalking towards the hotel's food director. The tiny bespectacled man was wringing his hands and apologizing loudly, but Mr. Herold wasn't listening. Another group of servers dropped more platters and marinara sauce splattered onto his brown suit.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Herold yelled, his face turning a violent shade of red and his hands trembling, “Have you foolish baboons mistaken my firm's dinner party for a gathering of some clown college?”
“No, sir. I assure you, none of this was planned!”
“Like hell it wasn't!” Mr. Herold shouted, “I heard you guys laughing!”
“Sir, I assure you none of my staff would ever laugh at such a failure of an evening!”
“You won't be getting any more business from our firm nor any donations!” Mr. Herold shouted, waving his stubby fingers in the air.
Several people had already left and even more were on their feet and headed towards the door.
“Mr. Herold,” the bespectacled man plead, “If you just allow us a few minutes, just a few minutes, to clean up, your party can continue.”
“I think not!” Mr. Herold shouted. His mousey-looking wife appeared at his side, flushed with embarrasment and led him away.
“Tamara!” Mr. Page shouted over the crowd.
“I think that's my cue to leave,” she said.
“I'll text you later,” Hayden said.
A swarm of gnats descended upon those who remained. Tamara moved quickly, trying to stay out of the path of bugs, but upon closer examination she realized they weren't gnats at all. They were faeires! Hundreds upon hundreds of them, little winged people, pinching and proding people.
Tamara glanced over her shoulder to where Hayden had been, but he was gone now, too. Deciding it would be best to find her dad and get the hell out of dodge. She made her way through the crowd of people swatting at their attackers, trying to escape their sharp fingers. Three steps away from the exit Tamara slipped on a glob of banana pudding and landed hard on the floor. A pair of strong arms helped her to her feet.
She thanked the man as she attempted to get as much of the pudding off her dress as possible. Tamara cried out in frustration. Her mother was going to kill her if the dry cleaners weren't able to salavage the dress into something wearable. Not waiting for her dad, Tamara pushed her way through the crowd and out the double doors. Her father was waiting in the car.