Chapter 2: Navigating the Sea of Tuxedos
Moving through a room full of people who consider you invisible is a strange kind of education. I kept my head up, my long straight brown hair falling in a neat curtain over my shoulders, and wove my way between the clustered groups of guests. A waiter balancing a silver tray of canapés nearly collided with my shoulder, muttering a quick apology without breaking his stride or glancing down to see who he had almost knocked over. That was the advantage of being eight years old in a world built for giants; nobody expects you to be carrying anything heavier than a juice box.
To my left, Senator Hayes was leaning in close to a corporate sponsor, discussing the upcoming municipal zoning votes with a practiced, low-pitched murmur. I stepped quietly around the hem of a shimmering emerald evening gown, my patent leather shoes clicking softly against the marble. Every step brought me closer to the dais where the master audio-visual controls were housed behind a velvet-draped partition. Arthur had mapped out the hotel's wiring diagram for me on the back of a napkin three hours ago, showing me how the ballroom's primary projector linked directly to the main media server. If I could reach the auxiliary jack behind the podium before the keynote speech began, the screen wouldn't just show slides of starving orphans; it would show Victoria signing away the community development funds to an offshore shell company.
A hand suddenly descended onto my shoulder, heavy and warm. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as my fingers tightened protectively around the phone.
"Well, now, who let such a bright young lady into the grown-up room?"
I turned my head slowly to find a man with silver-streaked hair and a heavy diamond pinky ring smiling down at me. It was Richard Vance, one of the board directors and an old friend of my father’s before the company was taken over. His eyes were kind, crinkling at the corners, but there was a deep sadness in them that I recognized instantly. He knew what the house had been like after my father died. He knew how quickly Victoria had cleared out the study and replaced every framed photograph with modern art.
"I'm looking for the exit," I said, my voice remarkably steady, pitch-controlled and devoid of childish whine.
Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "Wrong direction, sweetheart. The doors are all the way back where you came in. Are you lost? Where's your nanny?"
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"She's outside," I replied smoothly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I just wanted to see the chandeliers."
He glanced up at the glittering crystal overhead, then back down at me, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. "They are something else, aren't they? Be careful not to stay too late, Eleanor. This crowd... they're celebrating tonight, but some celebrations don't last." He gave my shoulder a gentle, lingering squeeze before turning back to his conversation with the senator. I didn't wait for him to look back. I slipped away into the gap between two towering floral arrangements, my eyes locked on the glowing blue light of the AV console just twenty feet away.
