Seventeen
White Wall Gallery was only a few blocks from my building. I’d never been, but had walked past their opening galas on several occasions. Well, more like walked around them since the parties almost always spilled out onto the street. More people always showed up than could fit in the modest space, and they eventually opened the doors and let the crowd take over half the block. Everybody who was anybody—or wanted to be—attended their openings, in full on evening regalia.
Tonight was no exception to their all-out glitz and glamour.
Danial’s boyfriend must have been very talented.
Or very well connected.
Champagne flowed freely, delivered on exotic wooden trays by tuxedoed waiters. The cream of society was there—the latest generation of those venerable old money names and a few
