8:45pm
Saturday
28 September 1974
The Royal Opera House
Fundraising was by far the most unpleasant aspect of Kitri's job. All she wanted to do was perform, but despite her ranking in the company, she still had to answer to the administration, and it was made clear what was expected of each and every member of the Royal Ballet. This expectation rose with each promotion, of course. Bigger names drew in bigger donations.
The Ballet's Fall and Spring Galas were essential in financing their productions.
So, Kitri did as she was told. She took the pictures, ignoring the wandering hands that the cameras could not see, she made conversation despite how dull and repetitive many of their benefactors were, and she was going to sit at a table and hopefully charm them enough to fork over even more money than they already had.
She wished she could pretend not to speak English very well as she did at the first few galas she attended.
As she spotted her assigned table, she recognized an all-too-familiar face.
Lyn Renn.
Kitri was not someone to hold a grudge. She didn't hold any hatred or anger, having long since let go of it as the years had passed. But that did not mean she had forgotten what had happened, and she was certain Lyn had not forgotten either. There was no telling how he felt about where things were left or how he'd react to her presence.
She looked around, but her colleagues were all already seated, so there was nobody she could swap places with. Plastering on an unaffected smile, she approached the table, sliding into her seat.
"Well, isn't this quite the surprise?"
Surprise was one way of putting it. Kitri was not much of a drinker, but she could probably use one right now.
