Chapter 4 - Smile for the Cameras
The photographer clapped his hands twice, loud enough to cut through the string quartet. "Board members, center stage, please. Donor wall photo in two minutes."
I felt Marjorie's hand close around my wrist before I could step back. Her fingers were cool from her champagne glass. "Elena, come on. You can't hide in the back for this one."
I let her pull me. I didn't have a choice without making it a thing. The riser had been set up in front of the donor wall, three low steps draped in black, with the foundation logo lit gold behind it. The chandelier light hit it and threw little flecks across the marble floor. People were already finding their marks, laughing, straightening ties.
I took my spot on the second step, between Howard Pell and his wife. My dress clung at the waist when I turned. I smoothed it down and tilted my shoulders the way I'd practiced for these things. Chin up. Hands soft.
That was when I saw Daniel.
He hadn't left. He stood off to the left with the catering staff, near a column, arms crossed. Black shirt, sleeves pushed up just enough that the ink on his forearms showed. The silver cross caught the light at his throat. He wasn't trying to get in the picture. He was just watching me. Steady. Patient. Like he had all night to wait.
My breathing went shallow. I forced a smile and looked straight at the camera.
The photographer's assistant was arranging us tighter. "Ma'am, scoot in, please. Sir, shoulders together."
I shifted. The air smelled like lilies from the tall arrangements and someone's heavy cologne. Flash test popped. White spots swam in my eyes.
Then I saw the server.
He had come in from the side hallway, tray down now, hands held up at his chest the way they always were. The black fabric over his whole head didn't move when he walked. No eyes. No mouth. Just shape. He stopped at the edge of the riser, half behind the curtain, like someone had told him to stand there and wait.
He was going to be in the frame.
I glanced at Marjorie, expecting her to wave him off, but she was too busy fixing her necklace for the camera. No one else seemed to notice him, or if they did, they thought it was part of the service. Howard leaned in toward me and whispered, "Smile big, Elena. This one's for the newsletter."
I smiled.
The photographer lifted his hand. "Okay, everyone look here. One, two—"
The flash went off. It was too bright. It bounced off the marble column and the gold letters behind us. For a second I couldn't see anything but afterimage.
"One more for safety," he said. "Hold it."
I held it. My cheeks ached. I kept my eyes on the lens and tried not to look at Daniel, but I could feel him there on my left, just outside the lights. And I could feel the server too, silent at the edge, that covered face turned toward us.
Click. Flash again.
"Got it. Thank you, folks," the photographer said, lowering his camera and checking the screen. He frowned a little and zoomed in.
My stomach dropped. I knew what he was seeing. Three rows of smiling donors in evening wear, and there on the left edge — a man in black with white buttons and a black hood over his face. And just behind him, half in shadow, Daniel with his tattoos and his cross, staring straight into the lens.
Evidence. Permanent.
Marjorie squeezed my arm as we stepped down. "You looked beautiful. A little pale, though. Are you okay?"
I nodded too fast. "Just warm in here."
I stepped off the riser and my heel caught for half a second on the drape. I caught myself on Howard's sleeve. Nobody laughed. The quartet started up again, covering the shuffle of people breaking apart.
Daniel hadn't moved. Our eyes met across the ten feet of marble. He gave me the smallest nod, not angry. Almost reassuring. That scared me more than if he'd looked mad.
May you like
The server had already turned away, heading back toward the hallway, hands still at his chest. Quiet. Unbothered. Like being photographed in a mask at a charity gala was normal.
I stood there smiling at no one, my heart hammering so hard I was sure Marjorie could hear it, and I understood that whatever this night was, it was now on record.
