The place was already crowded when we arrived, and more than a few heads turned at our entrance. I saw a few people I knew and walked over to where Paulette stood with some investors.
“There she is, the woman of the hour.” She made a show of introducing Kitten to a few of the men and women, who as I expected were checking her out. There were huge billboard size pictures of her face on the walls around the room. From her deep intake of breath, I gathered she hadn’t been expecting that and she tried to disappear under my arm.
“O’Rourke you old dog.” I turned to the man addressing me, Stephen somebody or the other. We’d met a few times at functions such as this, but weren’t what you would call friends. I didn’t have to guess at why I had earned the moniker; his leer at her was answer enough.