Megan Why was I attending this fundraiser?
I had asked myself that question at least seventeen times since leaving my apartment, and again when the cab slowed down at a traffic light three blocks away.
If I ever found the answer, that’ll make the evening a lot better.
The cab dropped me off several streets away because the designated parking lot was already full, and as I walked toward the enormous building looming at the end of the street, I asked the question again.
Why was I attending this fundraiser?
The Deluxe Hall looked exactly like the sort of place where people with far too much money gathered to prove they had even more of it.
A place I had no business with.
The entrance was covered in white flowers.
Actual flowers.
Hundreds of them.
There were many cars lined up along the curb, men in tuxedos, women in gowns, photographers, security guards, and enough expensive jewelry to make me nervous about accidentally breathing too close to anyone.
I looked down at myself.
Compared to their glamour and glitters, I was a hillbilly.
My dress was simple.
Elegant, I hoped, but simple.
Black, fitted without being revealing, with a modest neckline and a pair of heels that I was already regretting.
I had spent twenty minutes debating whether the dress was appropriate.
Now, standing outside The Deluxe Hall, I knew that it wasn’t.
I should have worn the blue one.
I shouldn’t have come at all!
One deep breath and I joined the line of guests.
The lady in front of me wore a necklace that probably had more zeros than the money in my bank account right now.
I eyed my dress again.
Riley would be so embarrassed.
Whatever friendship we had was ending tonight.
I was sure.
“Invitation, please,” An usher stepped in front of me stretching out his hand.
“Invitation, please.” Wait, I needed a physical invite?
Riley hadn’t mentioned.
“Um, I don’t have one.” He dropped his eyes to my height.
“I’m sorry, I can’t let you in.
Step out of line, ma’am.” My stomach sank.
“I was invited by Riley Sterling.” His expression hardened immediately.
“Do you have an invitation?” “No, but—” “Then I’m afraid I can’t let you enter.
Please step out of line and out the premises.” “I—” “Please step out of line, ma’am.” His voice gained extra depth.
I could feel people behind me beginning to notice.
Wonderful.
This was exactly what I’d wanted.
To embarrass myself in front of a crowd of millionaires.
I stepped out of his precious line to stand at the side.
“Can I call her quickly?” I asked, retrieving my phone from my purse.
“I’m sure there’s a mix-up somewhere.” He admitted the couple that had been behind me.
“Please leave ma’am, or I’ll have to physically escort you out.” Physically escort me out?
I mean, I could leave now.
I didn’t want to be here anyways.
This was a perfect excuse to leave.
But the stubborn streak in me did not allow it.
If I hadn’t turned back when the cab took forever to come, when we stopped multiple times at different traffic lights and even outside when I realized my dress was worth nothing compared to the people here, why should I turn back now?
“Sir, if you would just—” “Leave.
Now.” His eyes were hard.
The lady he was attending to gave me a demeaning look.
Well, I tried my best.
And I had been embarrassed enough.
Sorry Riley, but this was your fault.
As I turned to leave, a heavily-accented voice inserted itself in the stale conversation.
“I do not believe that is a proper way to treat a lady.” I looked over.
A man in a nicely tailored tuxedo had cut through the line to the front.
He fixed the lapels of his tuxedo with effortless confidence, looking as though he had been born wearing one, and gave his invitation card to the usher.
Nobody questioned him, not even the man whose card check he had interrupted.
“Did your mother not teach you how to behave in the presence of ladies?” The usher swallowed.
“If she says she was invited, then she must be.” “I was,” I said quickly.
“By Riley Sterling.” Was he British?
And I wasn’t lying.
Why would I get all dressed on a perfect evening to come embarrass myself?
“She does not have an invitation card, sir.” The man glanced at me, then back at the usher.
“True.
But she did offer to make a call.
The least you could have done was allow it, or better yet, be a good boy and radio the host yourself.” Quickly, he reached for his radio, but the British man waved him off.
“Do not be stupid.
The invite admits two, yes?” he gestured to the invitation card the usher was holding.
“Mine includes her now,” he fixed his lapels again ,”Now, my good man, unless you wish to stop her, and me, best you let us through.” “Yes, sir.” The usher immediately stepped aside.
“Welcome to the Deluxe Hall.” The other usher followed, murmuring an apology as we passed by.
I blinked.
That was it?
Apparently money, confidence, and a British accent were a magical combination.
I should get some.
As soon as we passed the line, I turned to him.
“Thank you, sir.
I’m really grateful.” He gave me a small nod, then walked away as though he hadn’t just rescued me from a very awkward argument.
I watched him disappear into the crowd before following the flow of guests inside.
When I stepped through the main doors, my mouth fell open.
The interior was even more extravagant than the entrance.
The ceiling was so high, the space could fill in another floor, or an apartment.
It had decorated chandeliers!
The walls were covered in paintings, sculptures stood on raised platforms.
Tables were arranged around the edges of the hall, each one covered in white linen and sparkling glassware.
Everywhere I looked, someone appeared to be wearing something that had more value than my networth.
I decided I’ll forgive myself for comparing, but there was so much splendour it’ll be a crime not to compare.
I suddenly felt like an intruder.