Crashing Down Into Flames

Chapter 33

Chapter Song: Drinking With Cupid- VOLIÀ

Tuesday- Night

-Evangeline-
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"Mr. Lockhart has been asking for you all night, so you better see him first after you announce the start of the party," Charlotte tells me as she leads me through the door that connects to what looks like backstage as if we've been here the whole time.

She grabs two glasses of champagne, takes a large sip out of one, hands it to me, and takes a large sip out of the other to play the part. As we're still rushing to the front of the stage, she grabs the cards from Roger wearing a sharp-looking purple tux and shoves them in my other hand while leading me to red velvet curtains.

"Boots?!" Charlotte stops before shoving me through the curtains, "You wore black boots!?"

I give her a sly smile, "I'm terrible at dancing in heels." I lie because I don't care who these people are and how important they are, I'm not wearing heels all night and then going to stripping wearing more heels.

Charlotte rolls her eyes and adjusts my see-through long sleeves which she just pulled on, "Eve, we were strippers for five years; don't act like I've never seen you do the Cha Cha Slide in a pair of six-inch heels. There's no lying with me, girl, but you're lucky they match your dress."

I smile at her while she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. She's the only one in years who can get me to really smile.

"Now go out there before Mr. Lockhart thinks we're late- which in our case would be on time," She hugs me before letting me go.

I walk past the curtains and look back to see Charlotte giving me a thumbs-up while sipping more champagne. At this rate, she's going to be drunk within an hour. I take a deep breath and face the ballroom of people who look to be chatting more than dancing.

The ballroom seems to be dressed for royalty. Golden silk lines from the ceiling. It dangles next to chandeliers while two-story ceiling-to-floor windows line against the wall, letting in the moonlight. The marble with golden specks floor shines and reflects the different colors of dresses and suits of elegant and crucial people. Lines of tables full of goods and drinks, mostly champagne, fill the perimeter- leaving the back of the room for tables to sit at and the center of the room for the dance floor. It's no wonder Mr. Lockhart requested to have it here.

It seems the only attention I've caught is August who seems to found a gathering of women next to the champagne stack. He gives me a small nod and subtly lifts the glass to boost me. I'm wondering where he got the glass of whiskey from; I'm feeling like I need it right now. I've his attention and Mr. W- who seems surrounded by businessmen trying to get his attention.

It's odd seeing his height towering over normal six-foot men in suits and sticking out of the crowd. He doesn't seem to be drinking champagne like August either. He takes a sip of a dark-colored, near-pitch-black liquid I can't place in a whiskey glass while staring straight at me. And the pitch-black suit he's in has never looked better. It matches the pitch-black mask he's wearing.

I take a deep breath and look away, spotting Mr. Lockhart who finally seems to notice me on the stage and gives me a wide smile. It's awkward seeing him since I've been avoiding him since yesterday's incident in the elevator with Mr. W. He looks divine in a black suit as always, but, oddly, it's pitch black. He's never worn a pitch-black suit, not even to parties.