She was in an odd mood, but hadn’t she come here to step, at least for the night, back into the fantasy? With her latest book off to the publisher, she was due an evening of indulgence. Only somehow, it was harder than she had expected to ignore the Styrofoam and spray paint and enjoy the pretty façade.
In the old days, she would have started the party well before she hit the ballroom and not counted it a success until every eye was on her. Tonight, when she should be letting loose, she caught herself automatically storing away information, impressions, and snippets of conversation. Half of Hollywood would give their eyeteeth to be at this party, and she felt like the narrator in one of her own books — an integral part of the story, but not an actual player. She spotted a dark head in the crowd and felt a little frisson of excitement.
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