Sorry for the delay, everyone - exam prep had me beat - but who's ready for some glitz and glamour (and fancy desserts)?


Chapter 10

Sunday, 12.05 AM

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

Lance grinned at Allura opposite him, gesturing to the car's spotless leather seats and toned windows. "And I can't believe you found a limo on such short notice. Are you sure you're not secretly a magician? Or a princess?"

"I have my contacts," Allura replied with a smile of her own. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm, once again, missing out on quality sleep because of you."

"Who needs quality sleep when you've got quality friend time?" When Allura didn't look sold, Lance turned to his right. "Hunk, back me up here."

Huffing a laugh, Hunk adjusted the collar of his checkered suit vest. "I mean, good company always makes a good time. As long as you avoid the most stuck-up rich people and aim for the finger sandwiches."

"Exactly! It'll be great!"

"What do we need to know about the place?" Keith asked, who still looked very much out of his element. At least he'd stopped fiddling with his tie now.

It was damn lucky he and Lance were about the same size. Sure, he'd had to fold the pant legs up a bit and the black satin jacket was a little tight across his shoulders, but he looked good. Classy even, with the red-flowered tie and mullet fixed decently for once.

Maybe Lance should have been a stylist in another life because his taste was impeccable.

Alright, maybe not more than Allura – with her shimmering golden gown, slit along one side, and hair in an elegant updo, she looked every inch the superstar she was.

"Well," she was saying, crossing one leg over the other, "the Los Angeles Research Alliance, L.A.R.A. for short, holds a charity gala every year to raise money for medical research. I had planned on going, but once I realized it would fall on one of the few nights I had to spend with my friends," she sent Lance a pointed look, "I decided not to go."

"Thank you for your sacrifice. No, seriously," Lance added, "thank you. Once again, you're an absolute life saver."

Allura sighed, but her eyes softened. "Of course. Anytime."

"Do we need to be worried? I mean," Hunk continued at Lance's look, "I'm pretty sure you guys aren't going there for the hors d'oeuvres, so… do I need to start prepping an emergency escape plan? Or practice ducking from bullets?"

Lance glanced over at Keith. "No. Hopefully not. We're just here to look around, see if we can find anyone matching our intel." Mentioning Pidge had found out about the gala from a crazy murderer's caravan and that they were looking for her potential next target might do Hunk's nerves more harm than good. "So once we get down the red carpet–"

"Red carpet?" Keith's face fell. "You didn't say anything about a red carpet."

"It's a gala. How else are we supposed to get in? We can't exactly sneak in through the back."

"... Great. Just great."

He didn't sound annoyed, just tired. Which after today, after everything he had told Lance… definitely valid. Emotionally, Lance was worn out too. And he hadn't even had to relive watching someone he loved die.

Lance forced the thoughts away. Focus on the case. Focus on the case.

"Hey, it'll be fine." Hunk sent Keith a reassuring smile. "You can stick with me if you like. Allura will draw most of the attention anyway and at most they'll ask me about the restaurant. We'll be in in no time."

Keith still didn't look all too sure. "Yeah. Okay."

"As I was saying," Lance began, "once we get inside, we should probably split up. Get a feel for the place and the people quicker and all that." As Keith nodded, Lance turned to Allura and Hunk. "You two mind sticking with us for a bit? Help us look less suspicious?"

"Dunno if that's possible, but I'll do my best."

The corners of Allura's mouth twitched upwards. "What Hunk said."

A few minutes later, the limo came to a stop along the curb. Lance peered out the window, taking in the massive building with its marble pillars and tall windows, cameras and reporters along both sides of the red carpet leading up to the open double doors. At least they weren't the only ones arriving fashionably late: a few celebrities, dressed to the nines, were still on their way in.

The attention was on them – well, Allura – however the second they set foot on the sidewalk. Camera flashes, outstretched microphones, yelling reporters; even Lance had to admit it felt overwhelming. Still, he sent Allura a smile as he extended an arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's go."

And hooking her arm around his, the two of them began the slow walk towards the entrance.

Many questions for Allura and photos later they finally reached the front doors and, after a ticket and security check (where Lance had to forgo his cover and show his badge and gun, but better safe than sorry. Especially since Keith, being off the case, had to go in unarmed), entered the ballroom.

Lance came to a stop, letting out a low whistle.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled above the white-clothed tables spread in a semi-circle around the massive room, all kinds of food, appetizers and desserts arranged on top of them. The middle and the far side had been cleared however, fancy people in even fancier clothes waltzing along to the sweeping orchestral tune playing over the speakers. Aside from the dance floor and the small groups of people talking or indulging in the feast, quite a crowd was gathered near the bar to the right, the three bartenders moving seamlessly together to serve everyone drinks.

Lance had never been happier he had invested in a nice suit – black detailing against the dark blue, a silver leaf pattern along the collar and the cuffs he had loved the second he saw it – because the L.A.R.A. were clearly not holding back.

Allura's mind seemed to be elsewhere though. "The nerve of some reporters," she said with a scowl. "Why does every man I spend time with have to be my boyfriend?"

Lance patted her arm. "Ah, heteronormativity. The worst kind of party crasher."

They made their way over to Hunk and Keith at the side of the entrance, who seemed just as busy gawking at the surroundings as Lance had been.

"Alright, since we've already split, how 'bout we keep the dream teams, yeah?" Lance glanced at his watch, then back at Keith. "Twenty minutes?"

"Twenty minutes." He nodded towards the table closest to them, filled with fancily stacked macarons in every color of the rainbow. "Then meet back here."

Giving his own nod, Lance surveyed the ballroom tables and the small groups scattered amongst them once more. As he did, he noticed Hunk watching him from the corner of his eye, a frown on his face, and Lance's fingers itched to touch the butterfly-stripped cut he knew was still all too visible beneath the make-up he had slapped over it.

Crap. He should've taken another minute with it.

Focus on the case, goddammit.

What was the best place to look everyone over without drawing attention? Somewhere in the middle of things, but still a good enough vantage point…

"Allura, what do you say about a dance?" He mustered up a smile. "You know, add some more fuel to the nonexistent fire?"

The other two looked confused, but Allura huffed a laugh. "Just don't step on my toes."

"No promises."

Raising a hand in goodbye, Lance began weaving his way across the room, Allura not far behind. A quick stop at a buffet of finger sandwiches that looked too good not to try, and they made it to the edge of the dance floor.

"So," Lance turned to Allura, "you wanna lead or should I?"

Allura cocked an eyebrow. "I thought we were leaning into heteronormativity?"

"Eh. You know I'm down to swing both ways."

"Your terrible puns will be the death of me," Allura sighed tiredly enough to make him grin. "I'll lead. Then you can focus entirely on your sleuthing."

For a solid minute though all he could focus on was keeping in time with the music (and avoiding Allura's feet), the steady one-two-three, one-two-three repeating over and over in his mind until he felt sure enough to lift his head and scan the room.

A lot of the faces in the crowd were familiar. Not in the he'd-met-them way, but more like hey-wasn't-that-guy-on-TV-that-one-time? Actors, TV show hosts, businesspeople, authors, models… but what connection could they have to Haggar? Or, more accurately, who had gotten on Bandor's bad side lately?

"See anything?" Allura asked.

"Not really, no." Moving together to avoid another couple, Lance nodded to a table nearby. "Those two look pretty cozy though. Maybe we should get that reporter."

"Okay, enough with the reporter." Allura let go of his waist long enough to whack him on the shoulder. "I'd rather not think about that any more tonight. Especially since it's going to dial up to eleven after filming starts tomorrow." She sighed. "Bandor is not even one of the lead roles, but I know the media are going to try and pair us up."

Lance stumbled over his own feet. "Bandor's in your movie?"

"... Yes? I told you that weeks ago when the casting was officially announced: he plays one of my co-pilots." She paused. "When did you become a fan of his?"

"I'm not– I mean he seems cool and his eyes are pretty–"

Lance knew he was rambling but couldn't make himself care. Not when his mind was reeling and it took everything in him to keep dancing as if everything was fine.

Did the department know about the movie? That shoots were starting tomorrow? They had to know, right? Especially if they as Pidge had said had started monitoring the places Bandor went to.

Did this mean people on set could be on Haggar's hit list? Could Allura…?

Lance pulled in a steadying breath. Tried to calm his racing heart. His racing thoughts.

But Allura had told him weeks ago. How could he not have remembered this? Something this potentially important?

Maybe Keith had been right before because he sure felt like ditching himself right now.

"Hey." Allura's concerned frown met him when he looked up. "You alright?"

That question required at least a fifteen-minute presentation and slide-show to even get close to an answer – time they definitely didn't have right now. "Sure," he said instead, schooling his voice and face into something he hoped resembled calm. "What's your impression of him?"

"Well, I've only met him a handful of times," Allura began, thankfully (but reluctantly, he could tell) dropping the subject, "but he seems nice enough. Confident, has a bit of a temper, but so far that hasn't been an issue."

Temper. That was new. "Has he fought with any of the co-stars or staff? Are any of them here tonight by the way?"

"Maybe once or twice? I remember it blowing over pretty quickly though. And no, not that I'm aware of. But why are we talking about Bandor? Has he– Is he a suspect for something?"

Okay. So nobody from the movie could be Haggar's target tonight. And when Lance thought about it rationally, neither could Allura; she wouldn't even be at the gala if not for him.

It wouldn't hurt with extra security on set though. He would have to make sure that happened.

"No. Nothing like that," he replied. "Just… just considering all angles. There's–"

A face caught his eye in the crowd, over by one of the side doors. Only a flash and then gone again, obscured by other dancing pairs, but he could have sworn it was–

"Can you waltz us back that way?" He flicked his eyes towards the spot they had just been.

Seeming to sense his urgency, Allura only nodded, slowly maneuvering them around. Soon they were back again, but they couldn't stay put for long without it being strange and he still couldn't see–

"Dip me."

Allura's eyebrows flew up. "What?"

"One of those long, sweeping ones. As slow and dramatic as you can. Please?"

"The things I do for you," she muttered, adjusting her grip and guiding him back. Lance followed along, eyes kept on the room. On the spot he'd seen the face.

There.

The surfer blonde hair, the leaned-back posture – even from upside down, there could be no doubt about it. Bandor's agent, talking intensely to someone on the opposite side of the table. What was his name? Rocko? Rono?

Rolo. His name was Rolo.

What was he doing here?

"Was that slow enough for you?" Allura said as she pulled him upright again. "Because any slower and I would have fallen on my face."

"It was perfect, thank you," he heard himself say, but his mind was far away.

Maybe Rolo was the next target? But in that case, why?

:::

12.31 AM

He had only been here for ten minutes, but Keith found himself disagreeing more and more with Allura: this place was ridiculous and a waste of money.

Sure, it probably helped open some of the richest (and close-fisted) pockets, but how much had the L.A.R.A. spent in the process? And why seven chandeliers?

He had to admit the alcohol-free drinks were pretty good though, especially since they gave him an excuse to sit on one of the bar stools, free to scan the crowd. If only he knew what he was looking for. He had never had an interest in keeping track of celebrities, and so most faces here fell somewhere between unknown and vaguely familiar. Hopefully Lance was faring better.

That was another thing. Lance. Their conversation a few hours ago kept replaying in his head, eating at his conscience even as he tried to focus on his job.

He had hurt him. There was no way around it. He had taken his own fear, his own pain, his own guilt and lashed out. And Lance? He may have played it off as no big deal, but he had taken it to heart.

And Keith hadn't even cared until much later.

The narrowed-eye look Allura had given him when they first got into the limo, later concealed behind politeness and friendly teasing of Lance and Hunk, flashed through his mind.

'Lance has developed a tendency lately to be drawn to people who are bad for him. All I'm saying is you better not be one of them.'

Maybe she had been right to worry after all.

Keith focused down on the glass in his hands, running a thumb along its rim. Shifting to relieve the ache of his ribs.

He wished he could talk to Shiro.

"Want some sugar with that drink?"

Looking up, Keith saw Hunk making his way towards him. He had left a few minutes ago to find a bathroom and, judging by the two fancy dessert glasses, gotten side-tracked on the way back.

"What is it?" Keith said as Hunk sat down on the bar stool next to him, handing one glass over.

"At the bottom you've got Calvados apples – Calvados is a type of French brandy, great for cooking fruit in," he added when Keith frowned. "Then you have dark chocolate mousse and the stuff on top is oat crumble. Really gives texture and, well, crunch to it all. I've tried making something like it before, but I think this has me beat."

Hesitantly, Keith set his drink on the bar top behind him and took a small spoonful of the top layers. He couldn't help but smile as the chocolate melted on his tongue, followed by the less sweet but satisfyingly crunchy crumble. "Yeah. This is pretty good."

A grin in return, before Hunk turned to his own glass.

As they sat there, eating in quiet company, Keith let his eyes drift across the room once more. A couple passed by them on the way to the bar, giggling in the way only tipsy people could. At a table nearby two other people argued over the last piece of blue cheese, their dispute quickly settled by a waiter with a full tray.

Still nothing strange. Nothing that stood out.

"You know, when I was younger I wanted to work in law enforcement too. Become a data analyst like Pidge, or a crime lab scientist."

Twisting around, Keith raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Hard to believe, right?" Hunk said with a smile. "But that was the dream in middle school – me, Lance and Pidge going to the police academy and kicking ass together. Then the time came; they applied and I didn't."

"Why?" Keith asked, taking another spoonful of dessert. A surprised hum escaped him as his mouth filled with the sweet, round taste of the apples among the chocolate. Pretty good, indeed.

His smile growing, Hunk pointed his spoon at Keith's face. "That's why."

"You… like watching people eat?"

"Hah. Yeah, it sounds weird when you say it like that. But it's more like, good food makes people happy, right? And, well, that makes me happy." He paused. "Is that cheesy? It felt very cheesy as I said it."

"Definitely," Keith said, earning him a chuckle. "But it's, um. It's cool."

Another moment of quiet, of spoons clinking against glass.

"You also seemed like you needed a pick-me-up."

Keith tensed. How did he…?

Hunk must have seen the question on his face because he continued, "You and Lance have both seemed pretty… muted tonight. Not to mention you lookin' like the world was ending when I came over just now."

A sigh escaped Keith's lips. "Fair enough."

A beat of silence passed.

"Look," Hunk leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "I know you can't talk about work stuff, and I know we don't know each other very well… but if you wanna talk about it on, like, a general level, I'm all ears. Or if I should shut up and let you focus, I'm cool with that too."

That was what he should be doing. Working. Focusing entirely on finding Haggar's next potential target. On his last chance to take her down before he was shuttled back to Texas.

He also knew he wouldn't be able to while his mind was such a mess.

Pressing his lips together, Keith met Hunk's gaze. What could he even say? He couldn't talk about Shiro. Saying it once had already wrung him dry. And Hunk was Lance's friend. Not his.

But in this case… maybe that could be a good thing.

A steadying breath. "If," and he couldn't believe he was doing this, "you said something to someone. Something you didn't mean but you didn't realize that until later. What would you do?"

The words felt stupid the second they left his mouth – he was an adult, yet here he was asking questions on the same level as a kindergartner – and he went to add a 'Never mind, forget it' when Hunk said, "Well, first I'd start thinkin' about what kinda cookies they like. I'm kidding," he added at Keith's frown. "Mostly anyway. Seriously though… I guess I'd try to apologize first."

"And if you tried, but fucked it up?"

"Hm. Okay." Hunk scooped up another spoon of chocolate. "Is this hypothetical person a friend or…?"

Keith bit his lip. "I… don't know. Probably not." What could you even call them, other than case partners? Temporary acquaintances? Mutual pains in each other's ass?

"Okay." Hunk paused. "If it was bothering me, I'd probably try to talk to them again."

"You say that like it's the easiest thing in the world."

"Isn't it? I thought talking to people was, like, half a cop's job."

Keith sighed through his nose, but couldn't help a half-smile at Hunk's gentle tease. "That's different. Suspects don't need to like me. Sometimes it's better if they don't."

Sudden understanding flooded across Hunk's face. "Oh, so this person's someone you want to be friends with?"

"What? No. Maybe? I don't know, does it matter?"

Keith turned towards the crowd again, ignoring whatever look he could see Hunk sending him in the corner of his eye.

Did it matter? Could it matter when he was going back to Texas tomorrow?

No. Not tomorrow. It was after midnight already: he was going back today.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe his scanning finally paid off. Either way he was saved from thinking more about it when someone caught his eye. Someone, standing alone at a table, gaze flickering between people; searching just like him. Not strange in itself. But the pursed lips. The eyebrows pinched in thought.

"Who's that in the blue dress?" he asked. "Dark hair, big earrings, next to that sandwich tower?"

Hunk's eyes wandered over the room before finding who Keith meant. His mouth fell open. "That's… That's Shay. What is she– How–"

His jumble of questions cut short as he flew to his feet, heading towards her as if pulled on strings and leaving Keith with several of his own, including who the hell was Shay?

One way to find out.

Trading his dessert glass for his drink, Keith drained the last of its remains and followed. Not that it would give him any liquid courage considering it had zero percent alcohol, but he'd take any help he could get.

Hunk seemed strangely nervous too, as he called out, "Shay?"

"Hunk?" Her entire face lit up, voice pitching up on the name. "What are you doing here?"

A disbelieving laugh. "I was gonna ask you the same thing! I'm here with Lance, Allura and–"

"Wait, you mean she's here? Right now?"

"Yeah. Not a chance we would've gotten in without her." He smiled. "I bet she'd love to meet you."

An emotion that could only be described as starstruck crossed Shay's face. "I'd love to meet her. Especially after all the wonderful things you've–" Her gaze caught on Keith and she held out a hand. "And here I am just ignoring you, I'm so sorry. I'm Shay."

"Keith. I work with Lance." She seemed to know Lance, so he figured that'd be the easiest way to explain who he was.

Unfortunately, she seemed to know him a little too much as she raised her eyebrows and said, "Oh, so you're here for a case?" A seed of worry appeared in her eyes as she turned to Hunk. "You're not in trouble, are you?"

"No, no, I'm just here as camouflage. And," Hunk raised the dessert glass with a grin "for the food."

She returned the expression. "Any inspiration?"

"Tons. But not as much as you gave me. Shay's the one I was telling you about yesterday," he added to Keith. "When we talked recipes and stuff?"

Oh, so that's how they knew each other. "Yeah," he said. "I remember."

Shay lowered her eyes, flustered. "He's exaggerating, I didn't do much."

"You listened," Hunk said simply, quietly. "Anyway," and his voice returned to its upbeat tone, "you still haven't told me why you're here and I'm dying to know."

"Oh. Right." Pushing the short strands of her bob cut from her face, she picked up an appetizer from the table next to them. "It's a long story, but I'm pretty much here as moral support. It's under wraps but," she lowered her voice, a smile growing across her lips once more, "a friend of mine's here to finalize a record deal. I'm waiting for her to get back, actually and," she laughed, "trying to not look too out of place while I do."

"Wow, that's huge!"

A record deal. Keith had to fight not to let his shoulders slump, Hunk and Shay's conversation fading into the background. Sure, Bandor made music, but the music business was huge: a flimsy connection at best. And Shay's apprehensiveness before hadn't been about her having anything to hide, but simply the same big-function social anxiety he knew all too well himself.

He could only hope Lance had found something more substantial.

A few minutes and a promise to come find her later, he and Hunk started back towards the meeting spot. With the disappointment still swirling inside him – Who could the target even be? Or had they been completely wrong, and Haggar wasn't coming here after all? – he didn't realize Hunk had stopped until he laid a hand on Keith's arm.

"Hey, listen," Hunk began. "About what we talked about earlier. At the bar."

"... Yeah?"

"Whoever you feel you owe an apology to… clearly how they feel about you matters to you. So give talking to them another try, yeah? At least it'll ease your mind a bit, knowing you gave it a fair shot." His hand moved to Keith's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You got this."

Something between a laugh and sigh left Keith's lips. "Thanks."

Hunk patted his shoulder one last time before continuing forward. For a second, Keith simply stood there, watching him.

He could understand why Hunk was one of Lance's closest friends.

:::

12.42 AM

Lance and Allura were already at the table when they got there.

"Hey, Hunk," Lance held up a purple macaron, "is the stuff in the middle buttercream or ganache?"

Hunk picked up one of his own, taking a bite. "Hm," he said with mock thoughtfulness. "Looks like buttercream, tastes like buttercream. Must be buttercream."

Sending Allura a gleeful "Ha" (to which she only rolled her eyes), Lance popped the macaron in his mouth.

Keith shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, trying to still his restless fingers. "Find anything?" he asked.

Hunk seemed to take that as his cue. "Hey," he said to Allura, "Keith and I ran into someone earlier. And, um, I'd really like for you to meet her."

"Really? Who?"

Soon, only Keith and Lance were left at the table, a beat of silence extending between them. Their last conversation alone hanging heavily, unspoken, in the air. Then Lance cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Yeah, we did find something." He lowered his voice. "Bandor's agent, Rolo, is here."

Oh, him. Keith remembered that annoying asshole. Wouldn't have let them see Bandor at all if Lance hadn't sweet-talked him into it.

"What's he doing here?"

"No idea. I saw him over there," Lance nodded vaguely towards the dance floor, "near the side door. Chatting someone up like he was a hot-shot street vendor."

Someone.

It could be coincidence, but then again… it also couldn't be.

Maybe that conversation hadn't been such a waste after all.

"Hunk and I talked to Shay," Keith said. "Her friend's finalizing a record deal. She was meeting up with the agent here."

Understanding flickered in Lance's eyes. "You think Rolo is that agent?"

"It's possible."

Could that be Haggar's ploy? She found out Rolo was taking on a new client and decided to eradicate the problem at its root? That would affect Bandor negatively too though.

Would she be deranged enough to do it anyway?

Yes. Yes, she would.

Lance seemed to have reached the same conclusion as he only said, "Let's go," before leading the way through the crowd.

A few minutes later they found Rolo, sitting alone at a table at the far side of the dance floor, sipping on some elaborate cocktail and looking way too pleased with himself. His grin slipped right off however when he caught sight of them.

"Hi, Rolo," Lance said casually. "Enjoying the night?"

"Oh yeah. It's great." Rolo got to his feet. "So great I'm gonna go enjoy it over there–"

Keith crossed his arms. "I'm sure your new client can wait a few minutes. We need to talk to you."

"That's–" His eyes flickered between them, smile more like a grimace. "I've done nothing wrong. Honest."

For a second, none of them moved.

Then Rolo threw his drink at them and ran.

A sharp tug of his elbow to the side, but Keith was already moving as the cocktail sailed past his face, glass, alcohol and ice flying everywhere as it smashed against the floor. Two hundred pairs of eyes swiveled in their direction at the noise.

"Well, that definitely makes me believe he's innocent," Lance said with a scoff.

Keith stepped carefully between the glass shards before breaking into a run after Rolo, who was already half-way out the side door. "Come on!"

The alley was dark compared to the dazzling chandelier lights inside, Rolo only a silhouette as he raced towards the front of the complex. Keith clenched his jaw, forcing his body to move faster, but he was still too slow to stop Rolo from scrambling into his sports car and tearing down the road in a plume of smoke.

Shit.

As Lance came up behind him, Keith scanned the street. There had to be a car or something they could follow him w–

His eyes fell on the black motorcycle pulling up on the side of the curb.

"Lance!" He pointed towards it.

With no hesitation, Lance hurried over to the driver just getting off, badge already in hand. "Police! We need to borrow your bike, it's an emergency!"

"I–" The driver gaped.

"Thanks, we'll bring it back," Keith said, taking the helmet and keys out of their hands. A second of hesitation. Then he shoved the helmet onto Lance's head.

"Ow– hey!"

Swinging a leg over the seat, Keith turned the key, the sweet roar of the engine instantly filling his ears. Despite everything, a smile spread across his face.

"Hold on!" he yelled as Lance clambered up behind him.

Not waiting for a response, he gunned the engine and sped off after Rolo.


Fun (or more like ironic) fact: I wrote the first draft for this chapter last year by hand, in a supply closet, during my breaks at my summer job as a cleaner. Very different level of fancy lol