Page 89 of Witch You Would
I shrugged. “No clue.”
Isaac strolled in, wearing a tuxedo whose fabric twinkled like it was covered in diamonds constantly catching the light. Icouldn’t decide whether it was tacky or incredible. His hair seemed sculpted, and his beard had been trimmed into a goateethat made him look satanic.
“Hey, everyone,” Isaac said, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “It’s time for our midpoint mixer, as welike to call it. You all get to rub elbows with important people in the industry, and I get to drink on the company dime.”
Some people laughed politely. Tori’s face did that statue thing I realized was her version of wincing.
Next to me, Penelope tensed. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. This was a big deal for both of us, potentially.She needed a job, and I needed to raise money for AKSAM. Forget sitting together in a van; this was where the real networkingwould happen.
“Eat or mingle first?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m starving. Will it be more embarrassing if my stomach growls in the middle of a conversation,or if I anxiety-barf on someone?”
“Barf for sure.”
“Mingle first, then.”
Neither of us moved.
“Should we go together?” I asked. “Or do we not want to seem too...”
“Couple-y? Arm candy?”
“Exactly, Jelly Bean.”
“Don’t start with me, Gummy Bear.”
We grinned at each other. Someone cleared their throat and we both jumped.
“Penelope,” said Charlotte Sharp. A champagne glass dangled from one hand, but it looked barely touched. “We haven’t had muchtime to chat. Let me introduce you to a couple of people.”
Yes! I shook my internal fist at the sky triumphantly. Penelope would probably do the same later, but right now she lookedshocked.
“Unless you’re busy?” Charlotte asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me.
“She’s extremely not busy,” I said. “I’ll catch you later, partner.”
I gave her a double thumbs-up as I backed away... straight into Tanner.
“Whoa, nelly,” Tanner said. “How many have you had already, son?”
“Nada nada, limonada,” I replied. “Just trying to do Penelope a solid.”
We chatted until he drifted away, and I watched the patterns of the crowd as groups formed and dissolved. I was supposed tobe networking, but instead I was, I don’t know, vibing? The music was nice, and some of the glamours people wore were interesting;I mentally invented recipes for a few of them as I grabbed appetizers off passing serving trays.
A gray-haired man in a toned-down charcoal suit came up to me. The low lights reflected in his glasses made it hard to seehis eyes.
“Mr. Presto,” he said. “Happy to catch you alone. Could I persuade you to join me in a more private venue for a quick chat?”
“Sure, Mr. . . . ?”
“Jones,” he said. “Robert Jones.”
I followed Mr. Jones to a small table with two chairs in the corner of the room. A single flickering candle lit his angular face from below; honestly, it was a little creepy.
“I’ll get straight to the point, Mr. Presto,” he said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward. “I have an offer Ithink you’ll find lucrative. For your charity, specifically.”
“Oh yeah?” I smiled, trying not to seem too eager. “Alan Kazam’s Schools Are Magic is a really great organization, and we’realways looking for new donor support at whatever level you can manage.”
