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Authors: Stephanie Bond
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dishonest."
"It doesn't hurt anyone," Carlotta said, then swept her arm toward the crowd. "Do you think anyone in this herd cares?"
Indeed, no one seemed to be paying them any mind.
"Then why do it?" Jolie asked.
Carlotta shrugged her lovely shoulders and pursed her mouth. "Because it's exciting to see what you can get away with."
"You do this a lot?"
"Hannah and I hit a couple of gigs a week. She knows every catered event in town."
"But how do you know about the tickets?"
"Every place in town uses the same printer. This museum uses the same ticket format on either white or blue paper."
"That's why you had two sets of tickets."
Carlotta answered with an exaggerated nod.
"Do the Holcombs even exist?"
"Somewhere," Carlotta said. "I always use an old Atlanta last name. That way even if someone suspects me, they're usually too intimidated to ask questions." She grinned, revealing her gapped teeth. "Come on, let's mingle."
Jolie fell into stride beside her. "What if someone asks who I am?"
"Well, I never give out my real name, but that's up to you. Tonight, I'm Carly Holcomb."
"Do you always wear a wig?"
"No. Sometimes I wear glasses or do other things to change my appearance if I feel like it. It's fun to pretend to be someone else for a few hours." She nodded to a food-laden table. "And tonight I feel like being someone who eats Beluga."
"Have you ever gotten caught?"
Carlotta shook her head. "It's all about the attitude. The trick to party crashing is to act as if you belong. Oh, there have been times when people suspected I'd crashed, but who's going to bounce someone who's entertaining the guests? I talk to people, work the room. When I go to someone's home, I fawn over pets, and I always take a hostess gift." She grinned again and lifted her glass to herself. "I'm so gracious, who wouldn't want me to crash their party?"
Jolie was in awe of the woman's chutzpah. Carlotta made her feel as if she'd been living her life in a very small way. While she was squirreled away in her apartment eating frozen waffles, Carlotta was cruising upscale soirees eating caviar.
They filled tiny saucers with bite-sized delicacies, and Jolie's stomach rejoiced. Carlotta had impeccable manners, she noticed, eating precisely and blotting with her napkin between bites. The woman knew how to behave in polite society.
"Do your parents still live around here?" Jolie asked.
Carlotta's expression changed. "No, just me and my brother. Will you be okay if I split to find Hannah and say hello?"
Jolie nodded and watched Carlotta disappear into the crowd, wondering if she'd hit a nerve. She downed one more stuffed mushroom, then handed her plate to a passing waiter, feeling like a heel that she was there under false pretenses and being waited on. She glanced around the room, suddenly antsy as she surveyed the expensive clothes and winking jewelry, watching everyone moving with regal restraint as they sipped and nipped and glad-handed people around them. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and she had the feeling that she was observing carefully trained animals. It was morbidly fascinating to watch them interact—this was the interplay that Gary had hinted at, the ongoing drama of the rich and famous.
Remembering her initial reason for coming, she opened her purse and slipped out the one group photo from Gary's album that she'd kept. It showed the four men that seemed to dominate the photos, and three women, plus Gary. She scanned each face, memorizing features that wouldn't have changed, then returned the photo to her purse. After fixing her expression into one of faint concern, she worked her way around the room, methodically glancing at faces while craning her neck as if she were looking for a lost friend. Face by face, she eliminated most of the crowd, then something about one man standing a few yards away made her look again. Early thirties, receding hairline, dark slashes for eyebrows...one of the men in the photos, she was
"It doesn't hurt anyone," Carlotta said, then swept her arm toward the crowd. "Do you think anyone in this herd cares?"
Indeed, no one seemed to be paying them any mind.
"Then why do it?" Jolie asked.
Carlotta shrugged her lovely shoulders and pursed her mouth. "Because it's exciting to see what you can get away with."
"You do this a lot?"
"Hannah and I hit a couple of gigs a week. She knows every catered event in town."
"But how do you know about the tickets?"
"Every place in town uses the same printer. This museum uses the same ticket format on either white or blue paper."
"That's why you had two sets of tickets."
Carlotta answered with an exaggerated nod.
"Do the Holcombs even exist?"
"Somewhere," Carlotta said. "I always use an old Atlanta last name. That way even if someone suspects me, they're usually too intimidated to ask questions." She grinned, revealing her gapped teeth. "Come on, let's mingle."
Jolie fell into stride beside her. "What if someone asks who I am?"
"Well, I never give out my real name, but that's up to you. Tonight, I'm Carly Holcomb."
"Do you always wear a wig?"
"No. Sometimes I wear glasses or do other things to change my appearance if I feel like it. It's fun to pretend to be someone else for a few hours." She nodded to a food-laden table. "And tonight I feel like being someone who eats Beluga."
"Have you ever gotten caught?"
Carlotta shook her head. "It's all about the attitude. The trick to party crashing is to act as if you belong. Oh, there have been times when people suspected I'd crashed, but who's going to bounce someone who's entertaining the guests? I talk to people, work the room. When I go to someone's home, I fawn over pets, and I always take a hostess gift." She grinned again and lifted her glass to herself. "I'm so gracious, who wouldn't want me to crash their party?"
Jolie was in awe of the woman's chutzpah. Carlotta made her feel as if she'd been living her life in a very small way. While she was squirreled away in her apartment eating frozen waffles, Carlotta was cruising upscale soirees eating caviar.
They filled tiny saucers with bite-sized delicacies, and Jolie's stomach rejoiced. Carlotta had impeccable manners, she noticed, eating precisely and blotting with her napkin between bites. The woman knew how to behave in polite society.
"Do your parents still live around here?" Jolie asked.
Carlotta's expression changed. "No, just me and my brother. Will you be okay if I split to find Hannah and say hello?"
Jolie nodded and watched Carlotta disappear into the crowd, wondering if she'd hit a nerve. She downed one more stuffed mushroom, then handed her plate to a passing waiter, feeling like a heel that she was there under false pretenses and being waited on. She glanced around the room, suddenly antsy as she surveyed the expensive clothes and winking jewelry, watching everyone moving with regal restraint as they sipped and nipped and glad-handed people around them. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and she had the feeling that she was observing carefully trained animals. It was morbidly fascinating to watch them interact—this was the interplay that Gary had hinted at, the ongoing drama of the rich and famous.
Remembering her initial reason for coming, she opened her purse and slipped out the one group photo from Gary's album that she'd kept. It showed the four men that seemed to dominate the photos, and three women, plus Gary. She scanned each face, memorizing features that wouldn't have changed, then returned the photo to her purse. After fixing her expression into one of faint concern, she worked her way around the room, methodically glancing at faces while craning her neck as if she were looking for a lost friend. Face by face, she eliminated most of the crowd, then something about one man standing a few yards away made her look again. Early thirties, receding hairline, dark slashes for eyebrows...one of the men in the photos, she was
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