* * * *
Vance, looking ten years younger and much more flashily dressed than he had been an hour ago, walked through the front entrance of the Center. He was immediately stopped by security personnel asking to see his identification. With a roll of his eyes and a disdainful look at them he produced it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Halo. I didn’t recognize you,” the guard said in an awe-struck tone, handing back the ID.
Of course you didn’t. Vance laughed to himself while saying aloud, “That’s all right, my good man. I am trying to be a bit less flamboyant considering the venue. And please call me Saz.”
“Yes sir, Saz. Do you need an escort to the dressing rooms?” The guard frowned when it apparently struck him that there were no groupies trailing behind Vance. “I’m surprised to see you unattended,” he said when Vance arched an eyebrow at the look on his face.