The Middleman | ongoing

35 | he's not a vegan today

35 | he's not a vegan today

Song: No Sweat by Montolieu ft. Desi Valentine

Depicted Above: Graham Rogers as Harold Pasey

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The opening ceremony to the Big Little Business Expo was more like a gala. It was classy, yet one could easily spot entertainment value as essential to its success.

From the get go, Quinn and I passed through security. It was an obligatory checkpoint to obtain passageway to the grand ballroom. This was one elite club, and they were serious about having your ID lanyard on you at all times.

As numerous businessmen and women strutted in, Quinn and I scouted for a location to seat ourselves. While the expansive room was dimmed, the recessed lighting, imitating a starry night, and the various ornate chandeliers spaced out, were ample enough sources to read the name tags of other big and small business names and reserved place card holders.

I make my way through the decorated room and take a left, now leading Quinn, and reversing our roles.

"The big donors get a seat in the front," Quinn softly speaks in my ear, his lips so close to grazing the outside of my ear and in essence completely distracting me. "Tables close by the stage are reserved for technology giants, some social media gurus, automobile corporations, financial enterprises, and big name retailers... the like. Although that's not necessarily their exclusive spots. The seating is pretty flexible, especially if you're the head of something."

"So where do we get seated?" I ask a little shakily as we navigate through the tables with the rest of the crowd pouring into this place. Quinn's trailing close behind me but within earshot to discuss our game plan strategically.

"We need to sit somewhere near Kabuye, preferably in the vicinity of Pasey, so we can get to know him a little bit."

"I see him. He's already seated. He's between those two women over there."

I'm careful not to point him out in the crowd as that would be extremely rude. Quinn uses my line of vision to track the man of interest down.

"Let's sit one table back and to the left of him then," Quinn offers.

"We could split up. You take the table to the left of him, and I take the one to the right of him. That way if he speaks to someone on either one of our sides, we can piece together info?"

"Not a bad idea, but the gala's just starting. I don't think we need to split up so early. The event usually has some dumb ice breaker activities anyway, so we might not have time to regroup if we stay seated that way."

"They're that bad, huh?" I lift an eyebrow, a smile curling onto my lips.

"Bad doesn't cover it." Quinn grins.

Quinn and I head down to the table we had previously eyed and plop down in seats right by each other.

Plenty of other people are making their way to the tables, trying to find good spots, and Quinn and I are thankful we had been proactive and got ready as early as we could for this event.

"How long does this usually last?" I ask him, my tone still soft although it wasn't necessary as the murmurs of everyone overshadow individual conversations, allowing them to remain private.