Matthew opens the car door for me and my blinded by camera flashes. He holds my hand for show, flashing the paparazzi with his charming dimpled grin. I’m sure he planned that.
He leads into the hotel and to the ballroom. It feels like I’m inside my old domain but it feels weird. Like I’m disconnected. It’s just not me anymore. Matthew parades me around the room, for handshaking and frivolous small talk for about an hour. I count the exits. I might only get one shot at this. Finally being out of the house raises my spirits considerably, I already feel freer. It’s almost exciting planning my break out. I find myself singing the mission impossible theme in my head.
“How about a refill, Honey?” I take his empty glass and head for the bar without waiting for a response.
I’m accosted by
