Vivienne grabbed a champagne flute off a passing server's tray. The sweet rosé bubbles left a bitter aftertaste. A lick of her lips got rid of that lingering guilt, though it shouldn't have been there in the first place. She hadn't done anything yet.
The people sitting at the table near hers tittered again. Gossiping old women always provided decent blackmail material, but their clucking tongues and polite laughter brought a bitch of a migraine. They discussed scandals scandalous enough to induce foaming at the mouths of rabid bloggers. Their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren were the unfortunate victims. Wives cheating on husbands sleeping with porn stars dating failed actors, et cetera, et cetera.
It all made Vivienne's head spin. She lifted her glass to down the rest of her drink, but a hand plucked it from her fingers.
"Eavesdropping again?" Her quasi-best friend Keenan finished off her champagne with a blue-eyed wink and took the seat beside her.
"No," Vivienne replied, her head spinning faster now, like an anemometer as a hurricane approaches. "Committing . . . suicide." She tumbled off her chair, moaning.
Keenan looked at the now-empty glass in his hand, horrified. "But . . . but there was no suggestion you'd put poison in the glass!" Already he was feeling light-headed.
"Idiot," Vivienne gasped. "You . . . never heard . . . of . . . unreliable narrator?"
Opening: Hayden.....Continuation: Evil Editor