Jean Reese

One: Party Crasher

I didn't come here because I wanted to.

I had to. I had a reason.

Unlike what the self-proclaimed moralists in my neighborhood used to tell me, I wasn't doing this to be vindictive or to create problem and seek attention. I wasn't even doing this for myself. They knew nothing. They hadn't reached this level of desperation to ever understand and have a deeper perception of what was going on with me.

Desperate. I guess that I was. When you were ever on this wicked stage of urgency and anxiety, you could only think of nothing but to risk whatever there was to risk.

At this point in my life, I had nothing but for one-pride. That one thing was everything to me. And right now, I was ready to put my pride on the line because my reason was beyond its worth.
It was worth fighting for.

Standing outside the Pilgrim Hotel ballroom, I tried to work up the nerve to go in. My breathing was practically deranged considering all the hustle I had to go through just to get there and the thought of doing what I had to. I was perspiring in places I didn't want to think about.

I never crashed a luxurious party before. In fact, I hated parties. I couldn't picture myself wearing a dress and be with a bunch of hypocrites who'd probably be brooding about who wore the best gowns and who was worse dressed the entire night. I mean, why would anyone spend so much time on a ridiculous conversation? It was just a fabric.

A middle-aged lady strolled around the lobby. Best or worse, I was sure she was properly dressed in her long silver gown. I couldn't help but squint on my outfit. For the nth time, I felt apprehensive again.

For starters, I looked like I was going to church and not to an expensive party where I wasn't invited. Mom didn't own a gown, so I had to use whatever was available in her wardrobe-her Sunday dress. It was a knee-length, loose floral dress. I paired it with her absurdly high stilettos that were the source of all my discomfort. I wore them for the first time in eighteen years and I wished I'd never wear them again after tonight. I should've followed my guts and wore my sneakers. The stilettos were such a bad idea.

Fighting the urge to retract my way home, I squared my shoulders and stumbled my way onward. I had no room for cowardice. I had to endure this night. I had to do this.

It's now or never, I told myself repeatedly.

I yanked the heavy door open. Finally, I stepped inside the dimly lit ballroom. The room was packed with prominent people. Some I'd seen in televisions and some I'd only seen for the first time. An all star party.

Looking around, the party didn't seem to be like the party I had in mind. Everyone was awkwardly silent, all eyes ahead.

What are they looking at?

I fought my way into the crowd to figure out. But before I could reach the front, the lovely sound of the grand piano stopped me on my trail. Then, an equally lovely voice began to sing that filled the ballroom with enchanting melody. I heard that voice before. It could only come from the Santana princess.

Drizella Santana-the debutant.

I moved forward again, hoping to get in front. Hoping to find the man I've been trying to reach for how many days. Damian Santana. However, a man in tuxedo fell in step with me. I tensed up when I realized who it was.

The Security.

He leaned forward and whispered something on my ear that took me by surprised, and then discreetly pulled me out of the crowd. We stopped near the exit of the ballroom, away from everybody else.

"Ma'am, I need to see your invitation," he said calmly. But I knew that behind his dark glasses, he was eyeing me suspiciously.

This couldn't be my dead-end. "I'm afraid you have it already," I lied, trying to act composed.