Chapter Nineteen

Vanessa

The air crackled with anticipation as Paloma and I, adorned in our finest attire, emerged from the building. Tonight wasn't just about raising funds; it was a chance to network, to climb the social ladder rung by glittering rung. Hailing a cab, we piled into the back, greeted by a man whose receding hairline seemed to be in a race with his questionable charm.

The air crackled with nervous excitement as Paloma and I slipped into our best dresses, applying makeup with the precision of artists. Tonight wasn't just a fundraising gala; it was a chance to network, to climb the social ladder, rung by glittering rung.

Stepping outside, we hailed a cab, we squeezed into the back, greeted by a man in his late forties, his hairline receding at an alarming rate.

"Carson mansion, Beverly Hills," I announced, catching a glimpse of a self-satisfied smirk in the rearview mirror as he quoted his price. A brief negotiation ensued, Paloma and I playing tag team until a fair price was reached. However, the victory was short-lived.

The driver, his demeanor shifting like desert sands, swiveled around in his seat. "If money is tight," he leered, his voice dripping with insinuation. "Maybe we can work out a different kind of payment. Just the three of us, in this very cab." His smirk was unmistakable, a predator sizing up his prey.

My stomach lurched. A curt, "The money we agreed upon is not a problem. Just get us to our destination," was all I could manage, my voice laced with steely resolve. Undeterred, he leered, "my offer still stands. Just sayin'." His offer, as he said, remained stubbornly in the air, a buzzing fly we couldn't swat away.

The rest of the ride was a tense affair, punctuated by the driver's unsavory glances flickering back at us through the rearview mirror. Relief washed over me as the Carson mansion loomed into view, its imposing gates a promise of safety.

Stepping out of the cab, I reached into my purse for the fare. The driver, his earlier disappointment morphing into something uglier, took the money with a parting shot. "So, you two are not interested in having a good time, huh? Well, that's a shame." He sped off, leaving a cloud of exhaust and his repugnant words hanging in the air.

Paloma burst out laughing, the tension dissolving in the face of absurdity. "That dirty pervert wanted to have his way with both of us in his car," she exclaimed, wiping tears from her eyes. "The audacity of the man! Like what the hell!" The tension, the absurdity of the situation, it all bubbled over. And soon, I found myself joining in, the shared experience a bizarrely bonding moment.

Wiping tears from my eyes, we approached the gate. A guard, his face stoic, inquired about our names. "Vanessa Spencer," I replied, "and this is my friend, Paloma, she is my plus one."

A frown creased his brow as he scrolled through a tablet. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, his voice polite but firm, "but your name doesn't appear on the guest list."

Paloma and I exchanged a bewildered look. Diane had invited me personally – surely there had been a mistake? Just as I was about to request another check, a familiar figure emerged from the mansion.

Anna, her golden blonde hair shorter than the last time I'd seen her, stopped short, her gaze landing on me. "Vanessa! Come in, what are you doing out here? My mother has been waiting for you." Her eyes then flicked to Paloma, taking in her elegance with a hint of something I couldn't decipher. "And who is this gorgeous beauty beside you?"

"Security says my name isn't on the list," I explained, gesturing to the guard. "This is my friend, Paloma."

An undercurrent of something passed between Anna and Paloma, a silent exchange I couldn't quite grasp. Anna then turned to the guard, her voice laced with a hint of steel. "Juan, let them in. They are my mother's guests."

The guard hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between us and Anna. "But ma'am," he began, only to be cut off by a sharper tone, "Juan, don't make me repeat myself. Let them in, right now."

With a resigned sigh, the guard pressed a button, and the gates swung open. We wasted no time, stepping into the grounds as Anna led the way, her attention seemingly more focused on Paloma than on me.

****************

Anna and Paloma chatted animatedly as we entered the mansion, their laughter tinkling like windchimes. I felt like a forgotten melody, adrift in their lively duet. Paloma, with her magnetic personality, seemed to have captivated Anna– a connection that surprised and slightly worried me. Given Anna's reputation as a bit of a wild card, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

Ignoring the chatter beside me, I let my gaze sweep over the mansion's opulent interior. Every detail, from the meticulously chosen artwork to the handcrafted furniture and glittering chandeliers, was a testament to exquisite taste. The sheer grandeur of it all took my breath away.

Our little entourage finally reached a vast hall bustling with socialites. An orchestra, their instruments gleaming under the soft spotlight, filled the air with a melody that sent shivers down my spine.

Diane, a beacon of emerald green in a flowing gown, stood engrossed in conversation with a guest. We approached the group, and a frown momentarily creased her brow at the sight of me. "Vanessa," she said, her voice laced with a hint of surprise, "I thought maybe you changed your mind."

"I was held up at the gate," I explained. "Apparently, my name wasn't on the guest list."

A sheepish smile flickered on Diane's face. "Oh, heavens! I must have forgotten to add you back on. But you're here now, and that's what matters." She turned to Paloma, whose confident aura filled the space around her. "This must be your friend?"

Paloma offered a dazzling smile. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Paloma. And you are absolutely rocking that dress."

Diane preened, taking a moment to admire herself. "Thank you, dear. You have a keen eye." Her gaze then shifted back to me. "Your friend is wonderful, Vanessa. I like her."

Before I could respond, Anna leaned in, her voice a husky whisper. "Me too."

A strange tension hung in the air. Paloma, oblivious to the undercurrent, noticed the incomplete orchestra. "Where's the pianist?" she inquired.

"That would be me," Anna replied, a touch of amusement in her voice. "The crowds can be overwhelming sometimes. Needed some fresh air outside before rejoining the fray."

"Thank goodness you came outside," I said, relieved. "We might have been stuck outside."

Paloma, never one to miss an opportunity, turned to Annawith a mischievous glint in her eye. "Would you happen to need a singer up there with you?"

Anna's smile widened. "Yes, girl," she responded, a playful camaraderie forming between them.

Paloma winked. "Alright then, let's go give these people a show to remember."

Diane and I watched them walk off, two captivating figures drawn together by an undeniable spark.

"Vanessa," Diane said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "keep an eye on your friend. Anna has a certain…type, and Paloma seems to fit the bill perfectly."

My stomach clenched. Diane's words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I forced myself to brush them aside, focusing instead on Diane's next words.

"Why are you holding this gala so soon after the funeral?" I asked, confused.

"Vanessa," Diane sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "This is an annual event, I have hosted every year, for three years now. It's for the starving children of South Sudan, a beautiful country ravaged by war. If I didn't hold it today, these people wouldn't be able to support the cause."

Shame washed over me as I realized my own self-absorption. Diane's dedication to this cause was admirable, especially considering her recent loss.

"I wanted you to come earlier," Diane continued. "Quentin Tarantino was here, and I thought you'd love to meet him. He's gone now, though. But just mingle, socialize. I hear David Fincher and Ryan Murphy are still around. Go meet them while I focus on fundraising." With a determined glint in her eyes, she excused herself and disappeared into the crowd.

Networking was never my strong suit, but perhaps tonight, I could contribute in a different way.

Just then, a wave of dread washed over me as I spotted Karen across the room, her gaze fixed on me with an icy intensity. She stood a few feet away, her icy stare pinning me like a butterfly to a board. Dread coiled in my stomach. Did she know? How did she know? Who told her?