“Is that what they told you?”

Moments later, Tom found himself in a room where people mingled while clutching drinks in one hand and balancing finger food on small plates in the other. By the noise level, he suspected many of them had started the festivities much earlier. A few of the partygoers had ties hanging out of their suit pockets. It looked like they were on leashes.

Jennings bustled through the crowd and soon returned with a Budweiser for Tom and a glass of white wine for himself.

“So what are you doing now?” asked Tom. “This crowd doesn’t strike me as being Greenpeace and they sure don’t look like musicians.”

Jennings grinned and said, “I was hired two months ago. You’re looking at the new CEO of Pacific Ethical Fund Consulting Services.”

“You’re kidding? What do you do with them?”

“I check out opportunities around the world for investment companies. For people who have a conscience about where they put their money.”

“What do you mean? What kind of conscience?”

“To make sure the companies they are thinking of investing with aren’t running child sweatshops or making weapons. Next week I’m off to Panama to check on a fruit company.”

Tom nodded as he rubbed his chin. “Sounds good, what you are doing. I didn’t know Wall Street cared about such things.”

“A lot of people do. The Internet has really helped educate people about what goes on around the world. It’s nice to live off your investments and enjoy your champagne and caviar, but not so nice if you know children are being killed because your money is building cluster bombs.”

“Good point.” Tom took a sip of beer as he studied his friend. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you would be involved in something like this. Last I heard about you was that you were marching down some street in Washington protesting the war in Iraq.”

Jennings looked sombre for a moment and said, “Yeah, shock and awe. What a bunch of crap that was. We should never have gone there. You Canadians were right to stay out of that mess.”

“I think so.” Tom gazed around the room and saw two men give a couple of furtive glances in his direction. He presumed it was because of how he was dressed and it made him feel self-conscious. The old sports jacket he was wearing was way out of date. Even when it was new, he would never have fit in with these people, who wore suits custom made by names like Hugo Boss, Gucci, and Prada.

Tom looked down at his well-worn shoes and subconsciously fidgeted with the keys in his pocket.

“You okay?” asked Jennings.

“I’m fine.” Tom took a sip of beer and glanced at Jennings and thought, He doesn’t belong here, either …

Tom’s glance didn’t go unnoticed. Jennings smiled and said, “Bet you never thought I would be hanging out with this kind of crowd, did ya?”

Tom grinned and said, “You read me like a book. That is exactly what I was thinking. These don’t seem like your type of people.”

“Yeah … guess I’ve changed,” admitted Jennings.

“Since when?”

“Since when we first met. Back in the old days at music college.”

Tom shook his head in disbelief. “We were just kids, but sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

“We were all living in that huge dorm down on La Brea.”

“How could I forget?” Tom nodded, smiling. “Right between Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards.”

“Figured it could never get better than that. Trying to live our dreams of becoming musicians,” added Jennings, wistfully.

“I have stayed in the music business,” said Tom. “I’m running a music studio in Vancouver. But what happened to you? Last time I saw you, you had picked up some hippie chick and were driving a beat-up VW van. Back then you were spending your time singing at protest marches.”

“That was more than a few years ago,” replied Jennings, shaking his head in wonder.

“At least you were following your dream of singing.”

Jennings smiled, patting Tom on the shoulder. “It so happens, I married that hippie chick. Her name is Anna and we have two kids. Fourteen-year-old Buddy and nine-year-old Peggy Sue.”

“Buddy and Peggy Sue!” Tom chuckled. “You always were a Buddy Holly fan. I think Peggy Sue was his top song. Guess it’s better than naming your kids Moon Beam or Star Dust or something.”

“Come on, I wasn’t ever that stoned.”

Tom glanced around the room. “Looking at this crowd, I expect you’re driving a BMW or a Lexus?”

“Naw. I traded in the van. Now I have a Toyota and a Ford pickup. Also own four acres of land north of the city. Even has orange trees.”

“White picket fence?”

Jennings smiled. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” He stared at Tom for a moment and added, “Sure wish you could come and stay with us for a few days.”

“Maybe next time. My flight back to Vancouver is already booked. Next summer I’ll be down again. I’ll take you up on your offer then.”

“I’ll hold you to that, amigo. So enough about me. Tell me about yourself. Where did life take you? I see you’re wearing a wedding ring.”

“After touring with some bands for a few years, I ended up back in Vancouver running a music studio. My wife’s name is Diane and she is from Medicine Hat, Alberta. We have two sons, Tim and Tod, and a daughter, Jadine. Life is treating me good.”

“That’s great.” Jennings raised his glass of wine in a toast. “Me, too.”

Tom clinked his beer bottle on the glass and smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, although I still can’t believe you’re wearing a suit, let alone working for the establishment.”

“Well … hang on, that’s my boss across the room … Oskar Cruickshank. Looks like he’s headed our way.”

Tom glanced at the man approaching. Oskar was dressed like an executive who had been featured by Forbes magazine, complete with silk tie and gold cufflinks. His short black hair had only a trace of grey above his ears and Tom guessed him to be about forty years old.

“Oskar’s a good guy,” said Jennings. “He saw a lot more in me than some hippie strumming a guitar. He understood my passion to make this planet a better place.”

Tom saw two men following Oskar. “Who are the guys tagging along with him?”

“The heavy-set guy directly behind him is Ben Pike. He’s an ex-Marine and hired occasionally on contract for corporate security. I don’t know who the other guy is.”

Ben Pike was in his mid-thirties and had a muscular physique. He walked with the backs of his hands facing forward, reminding Tom of how a gorilla would walk. His red hair bristled in a brush-cut and he wore a cheap suit that should have made Tom feel better. Somehow it didn’t.

The third man, they would soon learn, was Oskar’s brother, Virgil. One glance told Tom that Virgil didn’t belong with this crowd, either. Virgil was ten years younger than his brother and had a shaved head and a one-carat diamond stud in his ear. He wore an open silk shirt to expose a heavy gold necklace. Tom didn’t have to be in the music business to know Virgil was into the drug scene.

Jennings introduced Oskar to Tom and Oskar gave a warm and friendly handshake, before introducing his brother Virgil and then Pike.

“Tom is one of your fellow Canucks,” said Jennings, as he glanced at Oskar.

“No kidding?” replied Oskar. He turned and smiled at Tom, then asked, “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Vancouver,” replied Tom. “I run a music studio there.”

“Good,” replied Oskar. “Vancouver is Virgil’s turf, but I hang my hat in Victoria when I go back.”

“I appreciate you letting me crash your party,” added Tom.

“Not a problem. My brother is crashing the party, too. Isn’t that right, Virgil?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you do in Vancouver?” asked Tom, giving Virgil a friendly smile.

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I’m an entrepreneur,” replied Virgil coldly, before turning his back to stare at a young woman across the room.