Broken Wings

Part Fifty Nine - harsh reality

Chapter Fifty Nine

Julia glanced at her reflection in the darkened window of the limo. Her hair was passable, but the dress didn't fit well. She had much bigger boobs than Carrie, so a classy halter neck dress ended p looking a little too slutty on her. Carrie disagreed, but she was feeling self conscious. This was the elite of New York, and she was entering the lion's den dressed in a second hand, ill-fitting dress. At least she had great shoes, her go-to black heels were comfortable and as elegant as she got.

Patrick was humming away in the driver's seat, and she presumed he could feel the tension emanating from her in waves.

"So this is a big thing then?"

He chuckled as he turned right and slowed in front of a large imposing building, there were stone pillars flanking a floor to ceiling glass doorway.

"Could say that ma'am."

She rolled her eyes catching his eyes in his rear view mirror, "call me Julia, please." When he inclined his head in agreement, she sighed, "don't think I can do this."

That made him turn in his seat to look at her, "not seen Mr Harding look as tired as he did today, he could do with seeing a friendly face."

She groaned, "way to play me, Patrick."

With another doff off his head, he jumped out, and then held the door open for her, "knock 'em did, Ma....Julia." He corrected himself with a cough, then directed her to the door.

Julia faced the steps feeling like Cinderella, outclassed at the ball. But despite the quaking legs, she climbed steadily, her confidence not growing, but not completely wavering either.

A liveried man met her at the door, and opened it, letting her in. That was the first barrier. Taking a deep breath, she followed directions along a corridor, then another man blocked her path.

"You have an invite?"

Damn, she didn't.

Taking a deep breath, she offered, "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, I'm late."

The man raised an eyebrow, almost in disbelief, she expected him to utter that's what they all say. Instead he pulled an iPad from his pocket, "and whom might that be?"

She rolled her eyes at the attempt at pretence, before offering, "Aaron Harding."

She didn't mistake the man's eyes lighting up like beacons, "Mr Harding. Ah, why of course." The change was almost a one eighty. "He didn't explain that you were coming later."

She inclined her head, "I wasn't sure I could make it. But here I am."

He nodded, "the dinner is just about finished, but the presentations are about to start. He's at table four, but there are no spare seats. I can get one set up when the speeches are over."

Smiling genially she followed the man to the opening to the ballroom, and slipped through the door.

Aaron had drunk too much, he'd felt far too many emotions, and he was exhausted. He hated these events, they were far too pompous, far too frequent, and other than maybe half a dozen people, there was no one there he wanted to spend time with. He'd intended to turn up, smile at the mayor then disappear, unfortunately, and annoyingly, said mayor requested that he stay to present an award for fundraising. He was nothing if not dutiful, he donated a lot, and appreciated that trait in others. But when he was seated at a table at the front of the room, he groaned when a familiar blonde slid into the seat beside him. The certifiably crazy and vengeful ex Melissa.