“Lovely to meet you, Claire.”
“You too.”
We both turn to the front and watch the antics of the girls. They are loud and animated and so excited to be here. I smile as I watch them; their enthusiasm is childlike and lovely to watch.
I make an idle observation that enthusiasm like that seems to dissipate around the age of twenty-eight. I predict they have five good years left before life begins to really fuck them up the ass. Relationship breakdowns and debt—that’s if they can find a decent person to fall in love with.
I shake my head in disgust.
Look at me being a downer . . . maybe I really do need to be here.
I’ve never been a negative person before. I hate this part of my personality that has surfaced in recent times.
I don’t even know myself anymore.
The line moves forward, and people begin to pile into the foyer behind us. Men and women, all excited entrepreneurs. Apart from Nelson, I think I’m the oldest here.
“Oh my God, we have to go out tonight,” Angel says.
“Yes,” Ellie says as she jumps up and down. “Oh my God, I’m so pumped.” She turns to me and Nelson. “Clara, you have to come out tonight.” I smile at her botching my name.
“I couldn’t keep up tonight.” I smile. “Next time, for sure.”
“Okay.” She turns back to Angel. “Where will we go?”
I turn and force a smile at Nelson.
“I wonder how many films they make tonight for free,” he whispers.
I giggle. “I know. Lucky boys. They might not survive it.”
“I know for certain that I wouldn’t,” Nelson mutters under his breath.
We both chuckle and shuffle up the line, and Ellie begins to check in.
Another four men walk in behind me, all older and quite distinguished looking.
Hmm, maybe this is okay after all.
We all chat in the line for a while. Turns out the guys behind us who just arrived are app developers. I don’t feel so silly now. Normal people seem to be here too.
A woman walks in, and all the men’s heads turn. She’s blonde and beautiful. Stylish an
d trendy and aged around late twenties, at a guess. “Hello, is this the line to check in?” she asks me.
“Yes.” I smile.
“Are you here for the conference?” she asks.
“Uh-huh.”
“Me too.” She holds her hand out to shake mine. “I’m Melissa.”
“Hi, Melissa. I’m Claire.”
“Nice to meet you.”
The line shuffles forward again, and then another two staff members come to reception, so we all veer into different lines.