Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 04 - Trash Out by Catharine Bramkamp

doors.  Old habits are hard to re-think during a real moment of crisis .
    The tremor was over by the time I reached the doorway. A cry went up from the guests, and like them, I listened to the abrupt silence, as if we all could hear the approach of the next tremor, as if tremors come in pairs . The silence grew; we held our breaths, nothing.  It was just that, a short rumble, the geysers clearing their throats. Just as conversations began to buzz up again , a mighty splintering crash reverberat ed off the steel tanks in the warehouse and annihilated the fragile calm .
    I was near est , but Carrie and Patrick were only steps away from me.  We all dashed through the tasting room door, past the marble tasting bar and through the back doors leading to the warehouse .  We paused, our eyes, or at least my eyes, had to adjust to the gloom, and no one wanted to trip on a hose or a jutting pallet.
    The warehouse was silent .  I picked my way through the room, it wasn’t large, just treacherous, especially in my pair of good Christian Louboutins.  The back door was open and I could finally make out a tangle of clear tubing carelessly flung over the damp floor.
    I stepped over one tube , then another.
    “Cassandra!” Carrie called out from behind me. 
    I jumped. “Don’t do that!”
    She pushed me aside, then recoiled back.
       

 
    Chapter 7
     
     
    It did not take long for the remainder of the party guests to come running . I quickly glanced over my shoulder but Mark was not in evidence.  Good.
     
    It was a tableau worthy of the stage (Summer , back in Claim Jump , would have be en impressed). The tremor must have been just strong enough to knock loose those top heavy wine cases.  Half the cases had tumbled down and splintered in a wide circle.  Green g lass glinted in the overhead lights and white wine lapped at our feet.  Careless of the glass , Cassandra knelt beside a prone body .  
    “The tremor!  The cases fell, I couldn’t move fast enough ! ”  Cassandra wailed.  White wine pooled out from under the inert man and soaked into Cassandra’s rose silk slacks.   Even as the guests tumbled into the shadowy warehouse, I noticed that Cassandra was not bleeding.  She had not been under the cases.  I steeled myself to look at the prone body. He was covered in green glass and blood . He was terribly still.
    “Shit , ” a guest breathed.
    “Is he dead?”
    “Is he hurt?”
    And the more practical, “What are we going to do?” 
    A young man, who could be accurately described as tall, dark and handsome, waded through the pond of wine and crushed glass and calmly lifted Cassandra away from the man .  The boy transferred Cassandra to Ben and returned to the injured man.  We all stood respectfully as he leaned over . The boy paused and took a breath before straightening.
    Cassandra didn’t need any more than that.  “Oh no!  No!”  Her wails cracked the silence.
    “Now what will I do!”  She moaned and held her head. Her curls cascaded over her cheeks. She buried her face in Ben’s shoulder and started to sob.
    “All that wine , ” s omeone breathed behind me.
     
    “ We just mailed the invitations , ” Carrie uttered , but fortunately not loud enough for anyone but me to hear.
    Patrick stepped forward , glanced at the gathering crowd and quickly turned his attention to the young cellar rat who seemed to be the only student left on the premise . The two men carefully lifted the body free of the glass . Shards fell from the prone figure and clanged on the cement floor.  The men gently carried him into the waning sunshine. Cuts welled with blood, the tannic scent of the wine drifted around us like a miasma .
    We heard sirens in the distance because you always hear sirens in the distance at times like this.
    “I’m ruined.”  Cassandra followed the body outside and sank back down next to the boy. It was Fred.  I sucked in my breath as Cassandra ineffectually fluttered her hands over his