Once Upon a Date - Susan Hatler Page 0,1
stay home. You’re here to get your mind off your woes and have fun, remember?”
“Vaguely,” I said, figuring it was too late to fake a headache and bolt. I had no choice but to follow her through the gold double doors of the Geoffries hotel.
“Come on,” Krista said, lacing her arm through mine as we entered the lobby. “You’ll perk up in no time. Trust me.”
“Crossing my fingers you’re right,” I said.
My black heels clicked across the marble floor of the lobby as we passed the check-in counter and then the concierge desk. We turned left toward the lounge and I glanced up at a gold-framed advertisement for the “Masquerade Ball” event of the season. Why hadn’t I written my fairy-tale romance about a masquerade ball?
Perhaps the editor wouldn’t have hated that idea. . .
Or maybe he was just a miserable person like Krista said. I hoped she was right. Otherwise, I’d spent the last eight months perfecting a book that would never see the light of day.
“Whether it’s dust or a gnat my contacts are now killing me,” I said, rubbing both of my eyes. “Oh, wait a minute. I think I put my glasses in my evening bag.”
“I don’t know why you’re not wearing your glasses tonight. They suit you.”
“Well, I thought it would be hard to wear a mask over them. But at this point I’m desperate.”
“Look, there’s the ladies’ room. Go take your contacts out and put your glasses on, so everyone in the ballroom doesn’t have to see your guppy face in action.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel way less self-conscious,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry about my fish face, Krista. I’ll find a dark corner and slip my contacts out.”
The truth was that I did want to find a dark corner, but not to take my contacts out. I’d snuck my laptop into my black tote. I know I needed to sit down and send out new query letters to a second list of publishers I had saved on my laptop. After this painful rejection, I might lose my nerve to try and get my book published if I didn’t send out these new queries right away.
As an aspiring author, I could only take so many knives thrown at my ego. I mean, it felt like the editor had ripped out my heart and then kicked it for good measure. Not fun, not fun at all.
I stopped outside the ballroom and took a deep breath.
“You know what, Michelle?” Krista grinned, running an appraising eye over my silky black dress. “You’re going to have a fabulous night and you’ll be thanking me tomorrow. I mean, you look like Reese Witherspoon at the Golden Globes . . . only taller.”
“Thanks, I think,” I said, figuring Reese obviously hadn’t let rejection get her down or she wouldn’t be where she is today. I needed to suck it up and keep moving forward. So, I pulled out my elegant-yet-large gold mask with its elaborate rhinestones and feathers, slipped it over my itchy eyes, and then tied the black silk ribbons together behind my head.
Krista slipped her red, feathered mask over her eyes and turned to me. “How do I look?”
I gave her a second glance and shook my head. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t meeting you here or I never would’ve recognized you.”
“Same goes for you. Very elegant and mysterious,” she said, giving my cheek an air kiss.
Then we nodded at the tuxedoed man, who opened the ballroom door with a flourish. The music, which had sounded muted from outside the ballroom, washed over us as we walked inside. Krista clapped her hands together, her excitement making the corners of my mouth curve upward for the first time today.
She didn’t normally love the glamour and glitz, but this ball was a fundraiser for Founding Friendships, a homeless outreach organization where she volunteered.
Krista had come pretty close to living on the streets as a kid. She’d told me stories about growing up in a trailer park in Eureka, California where her mom still lived today. I’d volunteered with her a few different times at Founding Friendships and it really did seem like a worthy organization.
A woman waved to us from across the room and Krista turned to me.
“I think that’s Jill Parnell, who runs Founding Friendships. I need to talk to her about a few things. Will you be okay on your own for a little while if I go say hi to her?”
“Of course. Take your