Focus of Desire

Kash glimpsed the prizewinner before she went down and was obscured by a crush of photographers. The ensuing barrage of flashes lit up the room. She hung back, not anxious to be at the center of the maelstrom.

“Let’s give her some air, can we, please?” Miranda’s voice carried over the hubbub of reporter questions.

“Is that the winner?”

“What is she, drunk or something?”

Kash’s curiosity propelled her forward. She worked her way through the crush of people, horrified to find…her. Christ. No.

It was the blond mystery girl from the other day. Disaster Girl, as Kash had come to think of her. She had her head in her friend Gillian’s lap.

Kash glowered at Miranda. “I can’t possibly owe you this big.”

The comment turned all the cameras back onto Kash, and she was instantly blinded.

“What does that mean?” one of the reporters asked.

“Yeah, explain that,” another chimed in. “Why do you owe her?”

The blonde moaned, and the cameras all shifted again to photograph the action.

“What?” Isabel said groggily. “What’s happening?”

“Press conference, Izzy,” Gillian volunteered. “I think you tripped.”

Of course she did, Kash thought. Izzy, huh? Dizzy Izzy is more like it. What the hell did I do to deserve this? She thought of the thousands of dollars of photographic equipment she had packed for this adventure and was suddenly very glad she had insurance.

It took Isabel a few seconds to fully grasp that this was indeed her worst nightmare come to life. Yes, she was really sprawled on the floor of the Sophisticated Women conference room. And those actually were camera flashes preserving every single second of her total humiliation. Just when she thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, she spotted…her.

Kash was staring down at her as if she had grown another head.