Illusions

She would quote some legendary author like a pretentious twat. She did this pretty much at the same time, every night. Well as Mark Twain would say 'the secret of getting ahead is getting started'; was one of Karina's standard lines. Each time she said a line like that a little match of hatred for herself would light within her.

It's my job she would remind herself. Since she married a prick (who wasn't always a prick, which seemed so hard to picture, even though it was just three years ago) named Daniel. It was her job to be an entertaining twat. That was her life now. To sit in the fancy restaurants, wearing some designer she couldn't give two shits about, act as this stupid and obnoxious person (AKA a twat), and pretended that she wanted to be there. Each night, it was her job.

However, she was no victim; she had to remind herself. She willing did this masochistic routine every night. She was just as much to blame as the pricks who would organize these nights.

As Karina sat, waiting for the sentence that would cue her to be the entertaining twat all she could think about was how when she was a little girl in New York, she would put on her mother's pearls and high heels. Pretending she had a life like this (except the part where she was the entertaining twat).

"I mean I don't know what to say about it" Karina heard Fran say, queuing her. Showtime.

"Well Franny, as Oscar Wilde would say 'I can resist everything except temptation." They all flashed their perfect pretentious smiles, and Katrina smiled her cracked one; feeling the match being lit. Katrina reached out for the champagne in the crystal glass in front of her. She gracelessly threw her head back, drinking every last drop.

Who was she kidding? In her hearts of hearts, she loved this masochistic routine.

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