I'm not quite sure what to do, so with the anonymity afforded to me by the mask, I decide to people watch.
I wonder how many of the people in the room work for Blackwood Publishing. I see some people with recorders in their hands, so I assume they're reporters. The other semi-finalists are around here somewhere too. I'd love to meet them and talk about their books.
A waiter comes past with a tray of appetizers and offers them to me, but I don't see anyone else eating, so I politely decline. Besides, I'd need to take my mask off.
When another server offers me a drink, I take it only to have something to do with my hands. I'm sure this is very expensive champagne, but unless they provide straws, I'm going to leave this party sober.
I chuckle to myself and make a note to tell Xander about this later. I don't know about his party, but if it's half as fancy as this, then we'll be laughing for the rest of the night. Thinking of Xander also reminds me of the panties I'm wearing. They're so soft and lush, I'd wear them every day if I could afford to have more than one pair.
"Mr. Cinder, I presume?"
A tall man wearing a green mask approaches me. His voice is deep and familiar, but I can't place it.
"Yes, that's me."
"I've been looking forward to meeting you, I'm Alexander Blackwood."
He puts out his hand and I take it. I'm not sure if it's because my hand is cold from holding the champagne glass and his is too warm, but there's a strange electricity when our hands touch. We both pause, but I can't tell his reaction due to the mask.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwood. I can't thank you enough for the opportunity to be part of the competition. And this party is beautiful."
"Mr. Cinder, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Your writing is phenomenal, you have the rare talent of reaching someone's heart through the use of everyday words. As my personal assistant says, your story is not unlike many others, but how you tell your story is..." He shakes his head. "Let's put it this way, Mr. Cinder. We only get writing like yours every few years, and for that reason, when I go up on that stage later, I will announce you as the winner of the Blackwood Publishing Award."
I gasp, and my hand goes instinctively to my mouth, which, of course, is covered by the mask.
My hands shake so much I almost spill the champagne from my glass. Mr. Blackwood takes it from me.
I can't think straight. Mr. Blackwood leads me toward a heavy, red, velvet curtain. When we get to it, he pushes it aside to reveal a balcony door.
"We're technically not allowed to be here, but I can see the news has somewhat unsettled you," he says.
"You can say that again."
He laughs, and the sound is like a warm blanket around me. How weird.
"I could, but I'd rather you tell me about your book. You said it's inspired by a true story."
"Yes, it's the story of how my parents fell in love. Their essence, connection, fight, forgiveness. All those things were present in their life. All I did was tell their story, but with two male characters because...well, I'm gay, and I think representation is important."
Mr. Blackwood tilts his head, but once again, I can't see what he's thinking. I want to ask why we can't take off the silly masks, but I don't want to offend.
He looks at his watch. "I'm afraid I need to get ready for the speech. You can stay here a few more minutes, but you'll need to be inside to formally receive your award. Oh, and please keep it to yourself. The other semi-finalists haven't had the same news."
"Of course," I say. "Thank you so much, Mr. Blackwood."
As soon as he leaves, I take my mask off and draw the longest breath. I won the award.
My heart is beating out of my chest, and I'm not sure if I'm overly happy or going to be sick.
I look up at the night sky. It's a clear one this evening, and despite being in the heart of the city, I can see all the stars.
"Mom, Dad, if you're up there watching, I hope you can celebrate this with me. If you had any kind of hand in it, then I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have changed all our lives."
A small tear runs down my cheek. I clear it away and pick up my champagne glass that Mr. Blackwood placed on a table nearby. I raise it up to the sky and take a sip before putting my mask back on.
I'm opening the balcony curtain to go back inside when I find myself face to face with the navy mask from earlier.
"I'm sorry," I say. "It seems I'm in your way again."
