Page 31

Good.

The room continued assembling itself around me. Tables, linen, glassware.

The beauty had arrived.

Beauty was excellent at making people careless.

The catering captain appeared with my coffee. I had left it on a service ledge without noticing.

“You lose things,” she said.

“I strategically distribute them.”

“It’s cold.”

I drank it anyway.

Cold coffee was still coffee. At that point, temperature had become vanity.

I checked my phone yet again.

8:41.

No missed calls. Two emails marked urgent by people whose definition of urgency included menu-font preferences. A revised donor list. A text confirming the fire marshal’s arrival window.

Nothing bad.

I opened the donor list, scanned the changes, and forwarded them to registration.

Then I stared at the screen.

There had been something else I needed to do.

The thought sat just beyond reach, clear in shape and absent in content. I looked toward the stage, the service corridor, registration, the control position.

Rigging.

No. Done.

Meal count.

Done.

Emergency access.

Done.

The screen dimmed in my hand.

For one second, I could not remember whether I had checked the south stage stair.

My pulse climbed.

I had checked it during the first walk. Secured. During the second, after the skirt went on. Still secured.

The third check was not complete.

I locked my phone and crossed the room.