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Karen linked her arm through Nina’s and pulled her into the room. “Because I knew you wouldn’t come if I toldyou.”
“Great,” Ninasaid.
Karen led her toward the stairs. “Come on. Sadly, drinks aren’t allowed in this place because of all the rare books. We should have met up in advance to pregame, which according to Alex, is what all the cool kids donow.”
Alex was Karen’s son, and apparently pregaming was getting drunk before you actually wentanywhere.
They headed up the stairs to the mezzanine level where rows of chairs had been set up for the event. Karen waited a few minutes while Nina got settled, then looked at herwatch.
“Jesus,” she said. “We need to get started. I’m going to find Vincent. You okayhere?”
“I’m fine.” Safely ensconced in her seat, Nina already felt silly about her panic attack. Argosy was just a bookstore, the crowd around her made up of people like her but wearing nicerclothes.
“See you when it’s over,” Karensaid.
She waded into the crowd, expertly navigating the masses and craning her neck to look for Vincent Reynolds, the author of the book they were there tocelebrate.
She settled in, the anonymity of her position comforting as everyone chose seats around her. No one but Karen knewher.
She could have beenanybody.
