26
Megan had prompted me to accompany her to check out a starving artist’s exhibit in a downtown loft apartment. She was part of a wealthy civic group who subsidized new artists, helping them get started until they could develop a following and support themselves. A member of the civic group offered her swanky loft for the exhibit. Megan parked her car in a tall, parking structure, paying the valet extra to keep it on the ground floor so it wouldn’t be driven down the narrow spiral exit.
We took the lift to the apartment and was greeted by the hostess, an attractive woman in a slinky, orange dress who I guessed to be about fifty who pretended to be thirty. Her dress was wrong and too tight and her plastic surgery had removed the character from her face. Megan later told me the women had
