The Crying of Lot 49

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Having arrived at the luxury hotel, I slip into my formal attire and get out of my car. Thanks to LA traffic, I'm 15 minutes late when I enter the building. My heels click on the marble floor as I hurry across the empty lobby.

When I show my invitation to the man outside the door, he bids me to mute my phone before entering the auction. I send a quick message to Link, asking if everything is going alright, then I mute my phone and try to enter the room as quietly as possible so none of the other guests notice my entry.

The charity auction is in full swing, and I feel like a small fish in a very extravagant pond. A lavish chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, crowning a sea of elegantly dressed individuals, each dripping in opulence. The whole room has a sophisticated ambiance, adorned with elegant decor and accompanied by live music.

All this feels a tad strange to me, despite having spent a great portion of my childhood attending formal events like this. Ever since I started college, I suppose I have been too busy to accompany Father to these fancy gatherings, or spent my time at very informal environments, like frat parties, dates, and the beach. I got used to those settings and almost detached myself from high-class social events. I think I like those informal settings more than this, but at least I'm familiar with this right here and know how to navigate it confidently.

I try to find Father in a room of rich fabrics and sparkling jewels. As I pass by some people, I am acutely aware of the eyes that undoubtedly follow my every move. Eventually, somebody addressed me. "Zelda, darling!" A girl in a fancy dress greets me with an overly dramatized expression of excitement. I have no idea who she is but it comes as no surprise that she recognized me; being the daughter of one of the state's most affluent individuals. My father likely knows each person in this room on a first-name basis. The girl points at herself, and says, "Mila." Who? "We met at cotillion when we were kids."

"Oh! Mila! Of course," I say, still not remembering her whatsoever. Probably because I hated cotillion. "How have you been?"

"SO good! And you?"

"Ditto."

"Ah–It's SO good to see you!" she says with an obvious fake smile. "We should definitely get together soon."

"Soon," I nod, no intention of meeting her again. I know girls like her. Arrogant and spoiled, always seeking to climb the ladder of riches. I'm just another blank face in her network of influential family connections.

I let my eyes roam the room, hoping to find Father in the crowd.

"Aren't you dating that athlete?" Mila interrupts my search.

"Link?" I look at her. "Yes."

"Is he here?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Bummer! I would have loved to meet him!"

So it's not my father's connection she's after, it's my boyfriend's.

"Bummer indeed," I give her the same fake smile she's giving me and quickly move along.

As I pass by the guests, I catch snippets of a conversation. "Have you had your eye on anything specific in tonight's art auction?" A guest asks another.

"The pieces are all stunning," the other guest answers, "but that Yuga caught my attention. The bidding war is fierce though. I heard someone flew in just for that painting."

"Well, it's no surprise. Yuga's work is rare to come by, especially in an event like this."

I bet Pik would love to see the art.

Finally, amidst the jungle of tailored suits and glittering gowns, I spot Father in conversation with another noble man.

He notices me approaching, his smile turning stiff as if trying really hard not to look disappointed.

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