Chapter 3

The Venetian Ballroom was a mid-sized party hall which featured tall ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and a large performance stage which was purposely built to accommodate all kinds of different performances from ballets to orchestras. As a two storied ballroom, the Venetian boasted over 25,000 square feet of red-carpeted event space which faintly, but permanently smelled of perfume, sweat, tobacco, cleaning products, and mildew as all of those things have steadily seeped throughout the walls and floors over the many decades. Sure, the furniture, linens, tapestries, and even fixtures may change from time to time but the smell always lingered. It was the smell of both decadence and history. Deservedly, the Venetian was widely considered to be the crown jewel of the Braxton Grand Hotel.

It didn’t take long for Cecelia and Adrian to find their assigned table as all the numbers were prominently displayed and the tables themselves were arranged in such a way that numbered groupings were easily discoverable.

“Forty seven, forty eight… okay, here we are!” Cecelia cheerfully called out upon locating their assigned table some distance away, only to find that two other patrons had already beaten them to the punch. She turned to her companion and whispered, “Uh, there are people sitting at our table.”

“Shh!” Adrian quickly shushed before pulling Cecelia off to the side. Once they were safely out of view, he said, “All right, listen up. Those people over there? They’re the Goodwins and they’re the ones who paid for table 49, as in they own it. They’re also the ones who invited us to be here and paid for everything so be nice. Well, me and your sister anyway. You know what I mean.”

In charity galas, it is common practice for a wealthy donor to purchase a table from the organizer and be given a certain number of tickets so that they may invite their friends or family to attend the gala with them. In such a case, a table could have an upfront cost of say, $2,000 and be capable of seating four.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Cecelia stammered as she tried to process everything. “So those people over there, they just… pay people to be there?”

“That’s right,” Adrian replied.

“Why?” Cecelia asked.

Adrian turned to face Cecelia, smiled smugly and boasted, “Because they wanted to meet me.”

Even if it wasn’t mainstream production, Adrian Valentine was still a main cast member of Vamp High, a semi-popular supernatural teen drama currently streaming on the FlixFlix streaming service. Vamp High itself was generic as hell but for whatever reason, still had a strong following and had been running for five seasons with a sixth and final season already renewed ahead of the season five finale.

But Cecelia wasn’t 14 years old and she wasn’t enamored with teenage vampires either. And so, with with a blank and rather unimpressed expression, Cecelia rolled her eyes and remarked, “Yeah, whatever. So what should I do?”

“Nothing,” Adrian replied. “You’re just my plus one. All you need to do is sit there and look pretty.”

“Plus one?” Cecelia parroted back as the gears inside her head slowly began to turn. When her brain had finally finished computing, her face contorted into one of shock and horror as she exclaimed, “Wait! You’re dating my sister!?”

This time, it was Adrian’s turn to express some genuine surprise.

“What!? No!” Adrian quickly denounced. “God no! Don’t even say that!”

“Then why is she your plus one!?” Cecelia demanded.

“Uh, let’s see. One, she’s from the same agency. Two, she was available. Three, you never want to meet fans without backup,” Adrian immediately listed off. “It’s professional, okay? Chill.”

“Hmm,” Cecelia muttered as she flashed Adrian a wary side-eye. She looked into his eyes and he looked back but in the end, the only things she was able to discern was that he was either a really good liar or a really good actor, both of which were equally possible outcomes. Although she remained somewhat unconvinced by Adrian’s explanation, she nonetheless decided to power through the moment and move on.

Cecelia sighed and then shook her head as though she had just taken a shot of tequila. After she had composed herself, she said, “All right, fine. Whatever. So I just need to sit there, right?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Adrian confirmed with a nod. “Just sit there and be polite. Easy, right?”

“I think I can handle that,” said Cecelia.

“So you’re good?” Adrian asked.

“I’m good,” Cecelia replied.

“Okay then. Huddle’s over; let’s go,” Adrian said and with that, the pair joined the Goodwins at table 49.

Henry Goodwin was a 52 year old investment banker while his 49 year old wife, Gloria, chaired a non-profit dedicated to giving paralyzed zoo animals wheelchairs. Both people contributed very little to society but man, were they rich. Henry wore a well-fitted black suit while Gloria wore a purple silk gown. With their naturally white and pasty skin, a young child could have mistaken them for a pair of actual bloodsucking vampires but that didn’t stop them from blending in with tonight’s crowd.

“Hello Henry! Gloria!” Adrian greeted with an amicable smile as he reached over the table and shook the Goodwins’ respective hands. “Thanks for the invite. Great to see you both.”

“Adrian! I’m so glad you could join us,” Henry said with a smile. “Gloria’s a huge fan.”

“Haha! Guilty~!” Gloria playfully trilled as she mockingly put up her hands in front of her.

“And this lovely lady is Amelia,” said Adrian as he introduced Cecelia instead.

“Hello! Nice to meet you,” said Cecelia as she offered the Goodwins her hand.

“Likewise,” said Henry before he shook the offered hand.

“A pleasure,” said Gloria as she shook Cecelia’s hand after.

“So how are you two doing tonight? Having a good time?” Adrian asked as he began his charm offensive.

Everybody’s good at something. Some people are good at sports, others are good at music, and Adrian was good at getting people to like him. Really like him. Being handsome was part of it – a large part even, but what really set him apart from all the other pretty faces was that he knew how to make others feel special. Adrian could walk over to a stranger, talk their ear off and still make them feel not only heard, but feel interesting too. In other words, he was very good at giving emotional fellatio.

And so, as Adrian continued to figuratively blow the Goodwins, tables began to fill up all around them as both donors and guests alike slowly trickled in. By this time however, Cecelia was struggling not to dissociate into the ether while the live quartet continued to play the Summer movement of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons in the background.

“Man, this sucks,” Cecelia thought to herself as she forced herself to smile, nod, and feign interest as convincingly as she could.

It’s hard to build a rapport with people you have nothing in common with and for Cecelia, being stuck at this table was basically torture. For example, Cecelia had never been yachting off the coast of Italy, she didn’t have any family living in Argentina, and she had never tried whale sushi before. Talk about spinning on a different axis! Even if she wasn’t worried about blowing her cover, what could she have possibly added to this conversation? Just a few hours ago, she teaching kids how to share toys and finger paint while the Goodwins were probably buying golf courses or whatever it is that rich people do.

Cecelia snuck a glance at Adrian and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ah, whatever. He’ll take care of this; all I have to do is smile,” Cecelia quietly mused as she continued to do just that.

“… So Amelia! What have you been up to?” Gloria asked all of a sudden and as soon as she did, the pace of conversation shifted as all eyes came to rest upon Cecelia.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Cecelia’s eyes widened as she responded with a meek, “What?”

“You’ve been so quiet – don’t be shy!” Gloria playfully chided. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

“Uh…” Cecelia quickly interjected. She wasn’t good at being put on the spot but she had to say something. “What would you like to know?”

“Oh I don’t know; how’s work?” Gloria asked.

“Work? Work is… good,” Cecelia stammered unconvincingly.

Though Adrian’s body language and expression didn’t change much, Cecelia could feel the disapproval radiating off of his gaze.

“You’ll have to excuse us, we can’t talk about any current projects. NDA,” Adrian said calmly.

“Mhmm, yep. DNA,” Cecelia quickly added.

“Oh. I see,” said Gloria. “Then what about hobbies? What are your interests?”

Using his hands, Adrian told Cecelia to keep it going.

“P-podcasts?” Cecelia replied. “Yeah. Podcasts.”

“Like what?” Gloria asked.

“True crime documentaries,” Cecelia deadpanned.

That was a lie of course, but it was a prepared answer and the safest answer Cecelia knew. The way she figured, if she had told the truth from her perspective, it could have been inconvenient to Amelia later on and the same could be said if she told the truth from Amelia’s perspective because she didn’t know what Amelia would or wouldn’t want to reveal. That left lies and lies, well, lies can be anything, even something convenient. No one is going to doubt that a white urban/suburban woman would listen to true crime documentaries because stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason.

Gloria blinked her eyes and then nodded in acknowledgment. Then, she said, “Well isn’t that neat! I enjoy true crime as well!”

In response, Cecelia winked at Gloria before shooting her with a finger gun while Adrian shook his head.

Just then, a man and woman walked past table 49 and in that moment, Adrian followed them with his eyes before unconsciously muttering, “Holy shit.”

Cecelia faced Adrian and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just… That’s James Maxwell,” Adrian replied.

James Maxwell wasn’t just a famous director, he was living legend as the pictures he produced were not only profitable but well-received by critics and the public alike. Although he’d slowed down now at age 73, his influence had not yet waned as his mere presence inspires humility for any who saw him and were in the know.

“James Maxwell? THE James Maxwell!?” Henry expressed in surprise. “What’s he doing here!?”

“I don’t know,” Adrian replied. “He’s not supposed to be here. He wasn’t on the guest list.”

“He must be going incognito,” said Henry.

“Probably. Has to be,” Adrian concluded.

“Should we go say hi? Let’s go say hi!” Gloria opined before she grabbed Henry and the two departed from table 49 and headed towards table 56.

Within moments, a small crowd had begun to form around table 56 as others caught on and realized just who had arrived. Well, this much was to be expected. Chickens have a pecking order and humans have one too. Isn’t that just is the way of the world?

“Hey,” Adrian remarked all of a sudden as he turned to face Cecelia. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? I’m doing all right,” Cecelia answered. “Kinda hungry though.”

“Well the food should be here soon,” said Adrian as he leaned back to lounge more comfortably against his chair. “Just sit tight; they’ll bring it right to ya.”

There was a lull in the conversation as the music continued to play and the crowd continued to jabber on in the background.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Cecelia asked at last.

“Sure, loser. What’s up?” Adrian replied.

“Why are you here?” Cecelia asked. “Like, at this party. I don’t get it.”

“Why?” Adrian replied before gesturing vaguely in the direction of the Goodwins. Then, he said, “What’s not to get? I’m here because they’re paying me to be here.”

Cecelia shook her head and said, “No, I got that part. I mean, I wouldn’t be here either if I wasn’t getting paid and neither would my sister but you’re not like us, you don’t need the money.”

“And what makes you say that?” asked Adrian.

“Because as much as everyone shits on Vamp High, no offense, it’s still a FlixFlix show. You’re being paid what, upwards of $200,000 an episode? Even if you lose half of it in taxes, you’ve got to be loaded by now with retirement-level money so why bother?” Cecelia asked.

Adrian sighed and said, “It’s not as much as you think.”

“Is it drugs? Hookers? Gambling problems? Did you never learn to budget?” Cecelia asked peevishly.

“No dumbass; it’s the exact opposite,” Adrian replied. “You look at me and you think I’m rich because I’m 26 and I’ve made a few million bucks. I look at me and I’m worried about the future because I know what that represents. Everything that I’ve made over the last few years? Realistically, that represents the vast majority of my life’s earning potential and it’s all being taxed at the maximum rate.”

“Wah-Wah. Big baby,” Cecelia remarked unsympathetically. “It’s still way more than I’m ever going to make.”

“Just because you have it worse doesn’t mean I don’t have problems,” said Adrian.

“How dare you use logic against me,” Cecelia said disapprovingly.

“Haha,” Adrian softly chuckled before shifting his gaze over from Cecelia to the crowd gathered around table 56. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. Actors find work unreliably and get paid just as unreliably. You already know that Vamp High ends next year, which means that my relevancy as an actor is on a timer too but what’s worse is that I’m also aging out of my typecast. After this show ends, I might never be able to find work again. Residuals are shit on FlixFlix shows which means the only options for me after that are guest speaker roles and the convention circuit. That’s why I’m trying to make as much money as I can, while I can.”

“You really think your acting career is over after this?” Cecelia asked.

“Yeah,” Adrian expressed with a sigh. “I’ve never been cast outside of my typecast and not for lack of trying. I just… I always get passed over. I don’t know how to break out,” he explained.

Cecelia couldn’t face Adrian so she looked up at the crystal chandeliers above her instead.

“… I guess you’ve got it rough too,” Cecelia quietly admitted.

“True, but you still have it worse,” Adrian remarked.

“Oh yeah. No one is ever going to beat me,” Cecelia bragged.