A Party For The One Per Cent

Kira scanned the banquet hall and was relieved to find no one who looked like a reporter. At least none armed with an SLR camera. Her mind at ease now, she took in the scene. The party was well underway. Well-dressed men in tux and women in slinky evening dresses mingled, chatting amicably and laughing decorously. Crystal chandeliers cast their faces in soft white light. They didn’t walk so much as glided on the beige broadloom carpet. Glasses clinked gently to the accompaniment of soothing piano music. So this was how the one per cent lived. Kira recognised half a dozen faces she’d seen on TV—politicians and business moguls. Without Austyn, she would never have been able to set foot inside such a venue. Actually, she could have gotten in by herself. As a waitress, maybe, instead of the one being waited on. It reminded her again that she and Austyn were from different worlds. The thought depressed her a little. Within thirty seconds of walking through the door, Austyn was besieged by a