FICTION:
Goddamn, Anneke's editorial meetings seem to last a small eternity. But she's outta here, off to Magenta for the hotshots' biannual cocktail fundraising bash, with their canapes and gladhanding and double-dealing. Little do they know what she has planned. The drinks will be as spiky as her neckpiece and then some. She'll wind down from a trying day and a trying three years while the partiers spin out of control -- red wine in their fur, mascarpone on their silk ties. Then she's off to her night job at the Alkali Grand Hotel, where, the next morning, the bigwig politicos will wake up to lather their shining tresses with mini-bottles of Nair. Surprise! |
(Photo by Sean Smuda) |
