Twenty One

She pulled the car up to the lot, pushing the button to get in to park the car. Normally she would have had the valet take the car, but this was a “see and be seen” event, which meant that there was a paparazzi line, and that means that her Honda Civic needed to be parked and she was sneaking in the back entrance.

In the back of her mind, she was happy that she got to drive herself everywhere, and didn’t get pampered with limos - if it meant that she didn’t have to deal with standing on a red carpet in front of some backdrop filled with logos to her her picture taken. At least she didn’t have to worry about the tabloids wondering why she has some random guy on her arm instead of a up-and-coming boy toy.

As she walked across the skybridge to the theater, she felt an intense out-of-place emotion. She was decked from top to bottom in a gala outfit, with a smooth shiny red strapless designer dress and the shoes to match, and carrying a handbag that cost more than most of the cars that she passed on the way. There was a guy kind-of mingling out here, looking profoundly normal. She reminded herself that she had both her taser and mace on her.

As the door opened to backstage for her to sneak in, she wondered if she could have skipped this event entirely. Someone would probably notice if she didn’t show up. Then she wondered if she could sneak out during intermission. Probably not. She sighed and put on her best smile as she walked into the lobby, with all of the rest of the stars.