Senior Year Box Set

She handed me mine, and it said ‘Bond, Ian Bond.’ I wondered if Chubby had wanted to steal my persona in the upcoming movie or if he’d specifically requested it for me. The name tag wasn’t one of those cheap stick-on ones, either. It was a platinum color with black lettering. They were smart because it had a magnet to affix it to my jacket. I would bet big money that most of the women here wouldn’t allow them to use a pin on their expensive dresses.

Once properly attired, I was sent to a receiving line to meet the important people. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to know that because they all wore masks and had goofy name tags. At the end of the line, there stood one couple who hadn’t donned masks and who I did recognize: the Prince and Princess of Monaco.

I was impressed that they’d allowed paparazzi to take everyone’s picture as they moved down the line. I will say that this was the most well-behaved group of paparazzi I’d ever encountered. Their American counterparts could learn a thing or two from this bunch. There were no shouted questions or insults hurled to get a reaction. They politely asked to take your picture.

When I reached the end of the line, I got my picture taken with the royals. I made a point to ask one of the photographers if he could send me a copy. He readily agreed, so I gave him the office email address.

◊◊◊

I hadn’t eaten, so I sought out the buffet. Apparently, for the summer event, they had a sit-down dinner, but not for this one. I asked one of the servers for a recommendation. He steered me away from a baked fish dish I’d been contemplating. I grabbed a variety of items, intending to get more once I found what I liked.

I found a table off to the side and shortly was joined there by an older couple. My head began to swim as I breathed in the woman’s overpowering perfume, thick with spice and floral notes that hit me like a hammer between the eyes.

“I told you not to get that. You know if you eat it, you’ll be up all night with heartburn,” she warned her significant other.

“It’s a special occasion. I’ll get what I want,” he shot back.

I hurried up and ate as I listened to the two of them bicker. It seemed that after so many years of marriage, you didn’t hold back your opinion on anything. Either they were completely comfortable with each other, or at their age, they no longer cared what others thought. If it hadn’t been for the perfume, I might have hung around to watch them in action.

I did find out some entertaining tidbits about the upper crust attending this evening. One was that an invitation to tonight’s masquerade was extremely exclusive and highly sought-after by the rich and famous. This high-society event provided the chance to rub shoulders with the richest of the rich, the most famous of celebrities, the most notorious of politicians.

While the soirée was supposed to be geared to the next generation of donors to the Red Cross, most of the crowd seemed to be geriatrics. There were few younger people, and I saw no one else my age.

I left my tablemates to trash the other attendees and decided to explore the mansion. I walked upstairs and found a media room, dominated by a big-screen TV, that overlooked the entrance where everyone was arriving. From there, I could see people exit their cars before they donned their masks to hide their identities. I arrived at my perch in time to see Paul Andon, Lexi’s dad, and a woman whom I assumed was her mother get out of a gray Rolls-Royce Phantom. They were showing off. I noted what they wore so I could track them down later.

Next there came a series of people I’d seen in the news. They ranged from politicians to movie stars to the final car full of a rock band that currently had two songs playing on the radio. I had to chuckle because they rolled out of their ride, drinks in hand. It was apparent they’d been partying before they arrived. If nothing else, I admired their guts for showing up drunk at something like this.

The click of high heels on the marble floor told me I was no longer alone. I turned around and found the woman who’d caught my interest getting into the limo with Beth and Harry. She sucked in her breath in surprise when she spotted me by the window.

“Sorry, I thought I was all alone.”

“I wanted to get away for a moment and people-watch,” I said as I tilted my head towards the window.

She joined me to watch the next car pull up. She glanced over and gave me a half-smile.

“Really? ‘Bond, Ian Bond’?”

I looked at her name tag.

“Look who’s talking, Cinderella,” I said.

“Do I call you Mr. Bond, or may I call you Ian?” she asked with a smirk.

“Better make it Mr. Bond until we get to know each other better. I would hate for people to think we are too familiar with each other and jump to conclusions,” I said. My snooty tone mimicked the couple I’d eaten with.

“Why, of course. That would make perfect sense … if this were the 1800s.”

I suddenly found that I liked this girl.