Secrets of the Lotus. Michelle Garren Flye

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      Josie Stewart wished she could go to a party for once and just enjoy it. From the window of the magazine’s rented Town Car, she watched the other disembarking passengers in their designer finery and tried not to sneer. Nothing was real—not the women’s smiles and certainly not the perky boobs below them. Josie was accustomed to this. Being a society reporter in New York City required knowing that a good bit of the city’s high society was made of matchsticks and bubblegum. Men greeted each other with friendly handshakes, though they were business rivals. Women air-kissed each other with delicate fervor, belying their half-hidden smirks.

      “You’re quiet.” Bill, the driver of the Town Car, glanced over his shoulder. “Nervous?”

      “I’m not exactly invited.” Josie checked her reflection in her compact. “But if I can get my story, that won’t matter.”

      “What story? This is some rich guy’s birthday, right?”

      “Dan Mason. He was the New Year baby the year he was born.”

      “Who the heck is Dan Mason? Was he the only baby born that year?” Bill grinned through his grizzled mustache.

      “The first.” She closed the compact with a snap. “His father—Dan Mason Senior—was the mayor of New York at the time, and the family owns a multi-billion dollar import-export business. They are really old, old money. Dan Mason Junior was born at exactly twelve-oh-one AM, New Year’s Day. Every year since, his parents have thrown a lavish party on New Year’s Eve. It’s become an established event.”

      “Should be fun. How are you getting in?”

      “Can’t reveal my sources, Bill, you know that.”

      “Right.” He pulled the car to a stop. “Have a good night now, Cinderella. Should I pick you up before midnight?”

      Josie laughed, knowing he was kidding, and stepped out of the Town Car. The festivities would likely go on well into the morning hours. She told herself she was ready for whatever might come, but she knew she wasn’t. This wasn’t her crowd, in spite of her job as society reporter for New York Life. She liked working for the small weekly rag, but she still had aspirations for more.

      If she could collect some facts at the party, dig out whatever secrets the Mason family was hiding, it could be a major coup for her magazine—and that could be a major coup for her. Josie’s reporter’s instincts buzzed, telling her anything might happen on this night.

      She paused at the top of the steps, looking around surreptitiously. Having established no one was watching, she hung a quick left, slipping through the bushes and around to the kitchen door, which she gave two light taps. A moment later, it opened and her fairy godmother in the guise of a nervous young man looked out.

      “Hi, Ed.” Josie slipped past him.

      “Hey, Jo.” His voice sounded tight. “You all set?”

      She gave Ed a sweet smile and a nod. “I really appreciate this. It’s such a help to me.”

      He straightened, obviously determined to show more confidence. “No prob, Jo. Glad I can help.”

      People cluttered the kitchen. Cooks clattered pans and waiters efficiently loaded plates and glasses onto trays. No one noticed the uninvited guest slipping in the side door. Ed quickly led her into a dining room where a buffet was set up. “Okay. You’re on your own from here. Wish I could help more.”

      Josie kissed his cheek, noticing the flush of color in his face, where acne still roughened his youthful skin. Suddenly he had a hopeful expression. “Hey, Jo, you think—”

      “Gotta go.” Josie patted his hand. “You better get back to work, Ed. Don’t want to lose your job.” She didn’t want to hurt Ed’s feelings, and she knew he might easily take her flirting the wrong way. The best thing to do was hurry away.

      Josie soon found she couldn’t hurry far. The hallway was crowded, and she stopped to make a mental note about the décor and food. Cinderella never had it so good. If she had, she’d never have left the palace, midnight or not. Lights shone in a star-like pattern through the midnight blue silk draping the walls, casting a dreamlike illumination over the partygoers. Waiters wound through the guests, offering drinks and assorted hors d’oeuvres. Josie plucked a glass of wine from one of the trays and took a quick gulp before working her way into the living room.

      She wondered how many of these people could actually claim friendship with Dan Mason himself. No doubt some were business associates of Mason’s, some were friends of the family, some were hangers-on and there were probably quite a few like her—reporters who had somehow managed to wrangle an invitation or a way to sneak in. Josie finished her wine and snagged another glass from a passing waiter. She sipped the expensive chardonnay while making mental notes of the guests, the food, the barely-there designer creations on many of the young women. She hoped the magazine’s photographer, Jimmy, had found a good spot outside with the paparazzi.

      As she sipped, Josie noticed people falling silent. She hit the record button on the tape recorder in her purse and moved as close to the stairs as she could. She could see Dan Mason, Jr., standing at the top with an expensively preserved woman whom she imagined must be his mother on his arm. He spoke quietly to a tall young man who nodded and disappeared back down the hallway on some errand. Mason turned again to the party and began his descent. Josie noticed his mother seemed to be having some difficulty negotiating the downhill climb in her long gown and her high heels.

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