JANICE'S POV
The photograph spreads faster than either of us expects.
By the time I wake up, my phone is vibrating nonstop with messages from former colleagues, classmates, old neighbors and people I haven't spoken to in years, all of them suddenly interested in my life because one dance somehow became the story everybody thinks they understand.
Nobody actually knows the truth, yet that doesn't stop them from inventing one.
Amanda calls before I can even finish my first cup of coffee.
"Don't come through the main entrance," she says without bothering to say hello, and I hear voices, ringing phones and someone arguing about reservation lists behind her.
"We've got three reporters outside, two photographers pretending to be guests and one guy who actually tried bribing a valet."
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