Page 17 of That One Night in Vegas: A Lesbian Romance
The conference center was dim, the crowds cleared out
more than twenty minutes before. Only other exhibitors, the
event center staff, and security milled around the vast space.
Adalynn had been to more than her fair share of photography
conferences over the years, but each one since Pierre’s death
seemed to tire her more. Next time she was asked, she knew
she’d agree, if only to honor her husband’s work and memory.
She owed him that much.
Sitting in the back of the vast booth that had been erected as
an homage to Pierre and his work, Adalynn faced the blonde,
fresh-faced young journalist who had walked up to her just a
few minutes before and introduced herself as Amanda
Freeborn, journalist with a local Vegas publication. An online
thing, Adalynn assumed. She hadn’t bothered to check it
beforehand, and now she wished she had. When Wesley, her
personal assistant, asked her if she’d give the interview, she
agreed, only because she felt that it fell under the category of
dues she had to pay for having been given such a spectacular
life. So many wonderful years, when she could have had
nothing at all.
Amanda Freeborn was tall and thin. She’d dressed
professionally in a white blouse and black pencil skirt, but it
was just a tad too short, and her pumps were just a little bit too
high. Her cascading blonde hair was so long that Adalynn
could tell most of it was extensions. Adalynn didn’t like the
look, or Amanda’s heavy makeup, but she reminded herself it
didn’t matter what she thought. She wasn’t behind the lens
right now. She wasn’t searching for authenticity.
“It’s probably been a long day for you,” Amanda said,
leading off politely.
