Chapter 29

Guess that makes me Audrey, Quinn thought, as Brenna wrapped a pink paisley shawl tightly around her sleeveless gray silk sheath and walked back into the apartment building, sheltered once again from the night.13

Every year, The American Arts Club Gala was billed as “the party of the century.” And every year it seemed to live up to that billing, leading Quinn to wonder, even in the age of digital hyperbole, how many “parties of the century” could there be? And how could anyone judge, given that the century was still quite young? Nevertheless, this year’s had to be one of the parties of the century, Quinn thought. He was used to being photographed, but never had he seen as many flashes as went off when he stepped onto the red carpet. He staggered back, surprised and a little frightened, as if he had suddenly been punched in the gut.

“Quinn, Quinn, over here,” the paparazzi shouted. “This way. One more. That’s right. Beautiful.”