Tricks by Sleight of Hand

Stepping aside from Bettes company and Catherine Opies and into the isolation of Marcels, gave her some solace from what was unfolding before her very eyes.

Oh come on, Porter. Shes taken.

Alice watched, fascinated, from behind a champagne glass. Her third champagne glass.

Then again, nothing ever stopped her, Marcel interjected.

What? Alice blinked, tearing her gaze from those two individuals who by then, must have been wondering if the fates had connived to bring them together.

Bette, allowing no one but Alice to see her at a loss, looked ready to excuse herself. But one word from the anonymous womans mouth, and Bette was suddenly smiling. The blonde was weaving a spell, giving Bette the sweet token of a shy, almost uncertain smile. Bette, tall and darkly beautiful, looked like an elegant bird of prey contemplating a potential victim and yet hesitating. Hesitating and in doubt because here stood an equal, intelligent in both dress and demeanor, who could easily out-distance the flight of her wings.

Bette knew this. Alice knew it, too. Anyone who wore the black dress with such casual confidence, her hair in touchable golden curls, her chest daintily accented by an understated yet stylish necklace, was interminably possessed of a fascinating mind. Tinas ability to look simple and yet profoundly inviting was a glimpse of perhaps, the beguiling person within..

Not once had Bette attempted to flirt with anyone tonight; not even with Marcel Delaney. The Marcel Delaney. And for Bette to ignore the delicious brunette was something in itself.

Marcel pointed to Bette with a glass of wine in her hand. I was talking about Porter.

In what context? Alice asked politely, distracted.

Booking artwork, Alice, Marcel reproved. Anyway Alices attention was far from what Marcel was saying and Marcel finally joined her in her spy work.

The blonde womans date was laughing boisterously with Catherine Opie, making gestures of enlarging frames and pointing at choice photographs to get his point across. Alice, noting that the date was a handsome prospect, shifted her attention back to Bette.

Oh, who is that with Bette? What a delectable blonde.

Marcel had a tendency to voice her thoughts and Alice, unaware that the topic had changed, only replied, I havent a clue.

Dont you know the whole town, Piezecky?

I know the whole ***** ***** town, Alice said.

Oh my. Straight? This is much too much drama for me. Marcel started stalking a wine waiter. Tata, luv; I need another drink.

Alice, oblivious to the fact she was no longer part of Marcels esteemed company, made headway to Catherine and fastened herself between the artist and the date. The mans eyes twinkled as Alice gave him her most playful smile.

Hey Catherine. Would you mind introducing me? Alice started.

The artist bobbed her head, her short hair glistening against the strobe lights of the inner gallery. Alice, this is Eric. Eric, Alice; shes a writer for the Times. Eric here was just planning to enlarge a few of my prints. What -five by six, am I right?

Oh, very impressive, Alice said, taking Erics hand in greeting.

Alice shook it and purposefully tightened her grip. Eric registered surprise at her forthrightness but seemed slightly pleased that someone as beautiful as she would express interest in him. Seeing that he was relatively in agreement with Catherine Opie and was ready to lay claim to his girlfriend once more, she stretched his time of concomitance by talking to him.

She had an arm on his elbow, leading him around. To his benefit, she talked about everything Bette would have fallen asleep listening to.

Bette, glancing once in her direction, discovered a teasing grin on Alices face which said, Take your time.

~*~*~*~

TBC