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This party wasn’t a place for me. I had nothing in common with any of these people. Rich people, with time on their hands and more money to spare on a daily basis than I made in a year.
He took a step out of the door towards me. “Please, Luna? I’ll feel terribly if you go away empty handed.”
He sounded so earnest, I almost believed him. That earnestness had always been part of his appeal, too. He would be so guarded most of the time, but when he was genuine and open, you’d feel like you’d been let in on a secret.
I looked past him at the party. Despite my defenses, I was feeling just the smallest bit convinced. “I suppose it might be helpful for... networking...”
“There’s the spirit! Nothing brings the party quite like networking!”
One wink from Sylvester and I found myself almost automatically ushered into the apartment by him, blinking around at the lavish abode packed with people from wall to wall.
The door closed behind me and I was sealed into another universe.
He strode past me into the party. “What’re you drinking?”
“Bourbon.”
I expected Sylvester to slide off into the crowd, leaving me on the edge of the room awkwardly clutching my bourbon tumbler with both hands. Instead, to my surprise, he put his arm around my shoulders with the casual ease that he’d always had and steered me into the crowds at his side, picking up drinks for us as he went.
“Who’s your friend?” A nearby woman had backpedaled out of her own little circle and was eyeing me up in what seemed to be admiration. If I swung that way, I was sure she’d be my type. Smoking hot, short-cropped hair bleached grey, and enough tattoos and piercings that it made her features difficult to make out.
Sylvester grinned. “This is Luna. She’s a...” He paused, realizing my profession – and my current link to Sylvester – was confidential. “She’s a musician. A really great songwriter.”
I was almost blushing. I flapped my hand awkwardly, as if to saynah, not really. At least I wasn’t the type to nervously smile or I’d really have bottled it. As it was, my natural stony face prevented me from beingtooawkward-looking in social scenarios. “Ex-musician. Nice to meet you.”
Sylvester steered us onwards.
I wondered if he’d sensed my unease. “Who are all these people?”
“Friends. Musicians, actors, producers... I don’t know. News anchors? I’m sure I’ve seen a news anchor somewhere. And one really popular accountant called Timothy.”
I glanced around the room, my voice dry. “Wow. Introduce me to that accountant guy. He sounds like a blast.”
“There’s the spirit!” He sounded more convinced than the previous time he’d said that.
In the hallway, I discovered the front room was only the atrium of the party. There was one room here that contained a full dancefloor, with a DJ whose decks vibrated the floor and the wall with bass. Yet another room seemed to be some kind of fetish orgy, from which I averted my eyes. There was a cabaret in another. And a relaxation room with glowing lights and gentle music, which I presumed was where the people who were too drunk or too drugged up went to chill out. I was neither, but that room appealed to me more than any of the others.
Sylvester was watching me. “Your choice.”
“I think the, er, normal room back there was more my style.”
“Come on then. I’ll introduce you to some people.”
As we turned back into the front room, I was getting a familiar feeling. That of being the unpopular kid at the party, being ushered into a new, unfamiliar world by the one popular kid who’d taken a shine to me. As kids, thathadbeen our relationship.
Sylvester introduced me to a bunch of people in the room. The names and faces began to escape me. They were all kinds of famous, each one more acclaimed than I, even the famous accountant.
After a few of these introductions, Sylvester looked over at the clock. “Oh! It’s time to set up for the bands. Will you be okay by yourself for a while?”
I was being engaged in conversation by Timothy the accountant on the topic of Black Sabbath, so I was quite content to be left to it. I waved Sylvester off. “Sure, don’t worry about me.”
The conversation tailed off after a while, but I was quite happy just chilling in the middle of the crowd, feeling not unwelcome, for once. Over the heads of the guests I could see a makeshift stage being set up, instruments being brought out, a drum kit, even. The whole lot.
And then, Sylvester took to the stage with a mic. I feared he was going to sing. But he was just introducing the acts.
“Alright, thank you everyone for coming here tonight. As always, I’ve got a roster of new, fresh bands for you to sample before they become big and famous. Remember, you heard ‘em here first!”
He introduced the first band and jumped off the stage, handing the microphone to the woman with cropped grey hair and piercings who’d checked me out earlier. Of course she was the frontwoman of a band. She certainly had the image.
