"Ha ha ha ha ha..."

"What, you throw on a blazer and slick your hair into a side part, and suddenly you're some government big shot?"

"By that logic, I could buy a royal robe and call myself king!"

Fred was the first to burst out laughing.

Just as I expected.

They'd never believe me.

I shook my head with a resigned smile and decided not to bother arguing.

Someone in the group spoke up. "Mr. Gilbert, when are we going inside? Why are we waiting out here?"

"Do you even know where we are?"

"This is The Grandview Pavilion. Even someone of Mr. Gilbert's status has to make a reservation and wait in line."

"The fact that he got us all in to see the place—that alone shows how much pull he has."

Fred let out a derisive laugh.

"The Grandview Pavilion—what's the big deal about it?"

"I've been away for a long time and only recently came back. I'm not really up to speed on these things."

The same person asked again.

This time, Fred kept his mouth shut. It was Melvin's turn to show off.

Melvin flashed a cryptic smile and leaned back against his Bugatti Veyron, lighting a cigarette.

"The Grandview Pavilion, in principle, isn't open to the public."

"When this place was built, the owner designed it specifically for entertaining distinguished guests."

"Or when the city government lands a major investment deal during trade summits—they'll host the reception here."

"Forget me—even my father doesn't have the clout to get a membership card to this place."

At this point, Melvin glanced at me with a half-smile. "The only reason I'm here today is because Sharon lent me her membership card. Otherwise, neither my father nor I would have the standing to bring people here."

"What?"

"Sharon lent you something that important?"

"Mr. Gilbert, you need to step up your game! I think you and Sharon actually have a shot!"

Fred said this with exaggerated enthusiasm.

I knew it was aimed at me, but I didn't feel like arguing anymore.

"I hope so. I'll keep trying," Melvin said with a modest smile. Then his expression shifted to something almost reverent. "You probably don't realize this, but the owner of this place has connections that go all the way to the top. He's got ties in the capital—it's no exaggeration to say his voice reaches the highest corridors of power. If I could get on his good side, our family's entire business empire could level up overnight."

"The owner's connections aren't that impressive," I said casually.

"Oh, you know him?" Fred sneered. "Honestly, Swanson, if you actually knew the owner of this place, you wouldn't be dressed like that and showing up in a cab."

"There's got to be a limit to the bullshit you spew."

Melvin shot me a sidelong look. "Swanson, if the owner heard you running your mouth like this, all it would take is one word from him, and you'd never work anywhere in this country again. Do you have the slightest clue how the upper echelons operate?"

"Mr. Gilbert, you said it yourself—upper echelons. How would a bottom-feeder like him know anything about that?" Fred scoffed.

I sighed and walked off to the side to smoke.

Their worldview was limited. The circles they moved in were limited. That was exactly why they didn't believe a word I said.

My return to work wasn't exactly a secret, but it hadn't been publicized either. At their level, they had no idea where I stood now.

I wasn't going to waste energy on it. I just wanted to get through this as quickly as possible and never see any of them again.

That was when a Maserati pulled up. Pink.

The door swung open, and a woman with long legs in black stockings stepped out.

Even Melvin dropped everything and rushed over the moment he saw her.

"Nancy Galloway! You made it!"

"I wasn't sure you'd have time to come."

Melvin was practically groveling. It was obvious—his car might have been worth more, but his status didn't come close to this woman's.

Nancy didn't spare him a glance. She ignored everyone with an icy indifference, her gaze landing squarely on me.

I turned my head away, eyes down, smoking.

Then I heard the click of heels drawing closer, and that cloying sweetness of her perfume drifted in with each step.

She stopped right in front of me, reached out without a shred of hesitation, and gripped my chin, forcing me to meet her eyes.

"Jeremy Swanson. Back in the day, I was crazy about you. I followed you everywhere. And you chose Sharon Pruitt."

"So how's that working out?"

"You can't even afford a car, and Sharon's already cut you loose."

Nancy clenched her jaw and squeezed my face harder. "It's not too late, you know. Come back to me. You wouldn't have to marry into anyone's family. Just say the word—I'll file for divorce today and marry you instead."

Back in high school, I'd had my share of admirers. Nancy had been the most relentless of them all.

She wasn't even in our class, but she showed up every single day just to be near me.

"Cut it out," I said. "You've got kids now. What are you even talking about?"

I brushed her hand away.

Nancy let out a short huff. Clearly, the offer had been more bluster than anything real.

Still, there was no mistaking the resentment underneath it.

"If I were you, Jeremy, I wouldn't have come to this reunion at all. You're just going to get humiliated."

Melvin jogged over, obviously eager to perform for Nancy's benefit.

I said nothing and kept smoking.

When I didn't react, Melvin turned to Nancy instead. "Nancy, don't tell me you actually came here for Jeremy?"

"No."

"Sharon and I were romantic rivals, sure, but we've stayed in touch online. We actually get along pretty well."

"I talked with her for a while last night. She promised she'd come today, and she said she'd introduce me to the owner of this place."

Nancy's tone was cool, almost disinterested.

"Really?"

"Nancy, come on—we're all old classmates. Put in a word for me too?"

Melvin jumped at the chance.

Nancy shrugged. "That's not my call. You'll have to ask Sharon."

"Sharon and I are on great terms," Melvin boasted. "She even lent me her Grandview Pavilion membership card."

Nancy gave him a look but didn't bother responding. Instead, she nudged me with the toe of her shoe. "Give me a cigarette."

I handed one over.

Nancy took it and, out of habit, glanced at the brand. Then she clicked her tongue. "A 329? These aren't easy to come by. Where'd you get them?"

"Company perk," I said with a smile.

Melvin scoffed. "Fake, probably."

"Could be," I said, nodding.

Just then, the doors of the Grandview Pavilion swung open—not a side entrance, but the grand central doors.

The Pavilion's doors followed a strict protocol. Ordinary guests used the side entrances. The central doors only opened for distinguished visitors.

So when those massive doors parted with full ceremony, every head turned.

As they swung wide, staff rolled out a red carpet.

A portly man in a traditional silk jacket emerged, a folding fan in one hand, flanked by an entourage. He strode out with the easy confidence of someone who owned every square inch of the ground beneath him.

Melvin's eyes went wide. He straightened his clothes in a hurry. "Someone important must be arriving. The owner of the Grandview Pavilion is personally opening the central doors to greet them?"

Nancy stubbed out the cigarette she'd just lit. Even she looked tense. "Everyone straighten up," she snapped. "Don't you dare embarrass me."

Everyone straightened their clothes, their expressions turning solemn.

Nancy was about to walk over and greet the owner of The Grandview Pavilion when the man himself started heading in our direction.

Nancy and Melvin rushed to meet him, their smiles impossibly wide.

I stayed where I was, leaning against a car, cigarette still burning between my fingers.

The owner of The Grandview Pavilion jogged over with a smile on his face.

When Melvin saw I hadn't gotten up, he smacked the back of my head and snapped, "Get on your feet!"