The doors opened promptly for the procession of the exclusive guests. I ran a lot of corporate events in my career, even some small magazine fashion shows. But I have never seen the level of attire that the women attending tonight were showing off. It was royal wedding worthy. Fancy hats, silks, taffetas and chiffons detailed in a variety of winter themed tones.
“Wow,” I heard Mimi breath through the mic.
“Mm-hmm,” I agreed.
“Kinda raises the stakes for tonight, huh?” she commented.
If they weren’t before. They sure as hell are now. I released a steady a breath as I could muster, remembering that I was a professional. And I’ve never screwed up at an event. Not to a level that I couldn’t fix, anyway.
“Nah. We’ve got this,” I replied, half meaning it and half remembering there were over a dozen vendors and staff with a mic listening in.
“Marcus, are you all set with the hors d'oeuvres?”
“On the way out now,” he replied promptly.
“Ryan, let’s raise the volume a degree,” I instructed. Hearing the level rise slightly, I added, “Perfect.”
Someone else came onto the mic. “Ladies, we have a situation with a missing place card.”
“What’s the name?” I moved to a nearby table and scanned my last-minute guest list as the venue’s concierge repeated the name I heard mumbled in the background. “Not on my list. Did they have an invitation or a ticket?” I pulled out the blank spare place cards I had requested in the initial order and my calligraphy pen, ready to transcribe, if needed.
“Ticket.”
Thinking quickly, I pulled out my own ticket sample. “What does the back say?”
He sighed, realizing he should have checked. “It’s blank.”
My shoulders released. “Please let him know he was sold a fake and remind security to check this at the door.” I shut off my mic. “Amateurs.”
Making my way backstage where the models would be lining up once the cocktail hour was over, I found Ryan. “What’s the story?”
“We’re good,” he assured. “I’ve set up the light cues to automatic, so if there’s any delay, I just need a heads up so I can stall it.”
I nodded once, thankful for his skillful resolve. “I can do that.”
“Awesome, I’ll keep the volume up on this thing.” He tapped his mic.
“Sounds good,” I rattled off and raced away. “Mimi, we’re good on the stage lights. How’s the kitchen?”
“Right on schedule.”
Good. Now time to disappear.
I hadn’t seen Scott anywhere on the floor just yet. Then again, I’d been too focused on the overall operation of the night to notice.
My hair was in a high tight ponytail instead of down like it usually was when I was with him. Even if he’d caught a glimpse, he wouldn’t recognize me. Would he?
Once the reception started and all guests were seated, I felt free to roam and focus on the evening’s schedule. It was much easier to keep track of three hundred and thirty people when they were stationary and all facing one direction.
Scott was seated at table five. And what was strange was Claudia, who was supposed to be at table one, was sitting next to him.
What the hell?
I wondered how much she knew about the man she conveniently chose to sit next to.
A speaker was up on the stage and by the sound of it, wrapping up soon. I checked my schedule and looked up, searching from my hidden spot for the next speaker—who was nowhere in sight.
I hit my mic. “Ryan let’s hold on that next cue until we find the next speaker.”
