The business venture had been slow to take off, but once she’d found her niche, there’d been a snowball effect. Through her e-zine, she reached out to other struggling young women not sure what path to take around the pivotal point of their lives when they graduated high school and faced a multitude of decisions to make about their futures. Attend college, marry their high school sweetheart and have babies, backpack through Europe, stay in mom and dad’s house or strike out on their own…the choices were limitless and daunting. Shana had been overwhelmed herself.
The explosion of interest in, and embracement of, her online concept had resulted in her creating a web community dedicated solely to the pressures and issues her particular demographic and gender faced. Five years of helping others was extremely rewarding.
She’d discovered all of her idiosyncrasies and insecurities helped her relate to women seeking guidance under the comfort of an anonymous username. She’d been able to home in on the most important topics and employ freelance experts in those fields. Her network of consultants and professional counselors provided the education and assistance her members were in dire need of and that fulfilled Shana on most levels.
She’d like to say the forum she’d created was a fantastic way to work through some of her own personal issues, but even a legion of shrinks hadn’t been able to solve her self-image problems. She took solace in knowing she offered support to the young women who were brave enough to search for a resolution to what ailed them.
“Mr. Halston doesn’t allow photographs in the club, other than when the murals are shot for Sunday’s auction,” Toliver advised her, breaking into her thoughts. “If you have a camera with you, please keep it in your purse.”
So much for getting a leg up. But good ole Vic wouldn’t have let the head of security deter her when she was this close to getting the scoop on her man of mystery. If there was a way to convince Drake Halston to give her an exclusive with a photo, Shana would jump on it.
Well…in theory.
She let out a frustrated sigh. This was the reason she’d never followed her dream of being an investigative reporter. The reason—aside from wanting to stay true to her Internet following—she’d turned down the offers to headline her own talk show on network and pay-for TV. In her mind, she was calm and collected. Sophisticated and savvy. In reality, however…
Ugh.
In reality, she was about as smooth as sandpaper. Too timid to get in anyone’s face. Too apprehensive to probe deep enough to get the answers she really wanted.
Even if the chance presented itself to capture that Pulitzer Prize-winning photo that confirmed Bruce Wayne was Batman, she’d have neither the nerve nor the heart to exploit the opportunity. Especially when it came to Drake Halston. Like the fictional character she paralleled him with, he clearly chose to keep his life private, except amongst close friends.
Every fiber of Shana’s being respected that decision. She’d made the same one the day she’d signed papers that had legally changed her name and helped her to put her classical music days behind her as she tried to figure out who she truly was—who she truly wanted to be in the adult phase of her life.
So of course she’d follow all of Drake’s rules, even if it killed her chances of a photo op. She wasn’t one to divulge secrets meant to be kept. But if she could at least get a few revealing tidbits, she’d love to feature his club on her site as a sexy addition.
As she and Toliver worked their way through the crowd, she wondered if Yvette had known she’d be extended this particular offer of a backstage tour. Since she’d already caught Drake’s attention, according to Yvette, she wondered if that was why her friend had dragged her to Prada the other day and to the hair dresser this afternoon.
While she liked the new chic style of her plump curls, Shana felt packed into a too-sexy-for-her-body dress. She didn’t have Yvette’s straight lines—she had voluptuous curves that put both J. Lo’s to shame. Unlike Yvette, she didn’t have to purposely sway her hips. They did that all of their own accord. Like Yvette, she noticed she turned heads as she walked with Toliver, but Shana suspected it was only because the men in the club were thinking she should have forgone the super-sexy silver dress and stuck with a curve-forgiving black frock.
Feeling self-conscious, however, was nothing new to her. So she did what she’d done her whole life. She ignored the stares and focused instead on the litany of questions forming in her head she’d like to ask her gracious host this evening.
When they reached the perimeter of the club, Shana noted the mini-stages cut into the paneled walls. They were covered with crimson-colored velvet drapes that looked elegant beneath the enormous, sparkling chandeliers hanging overhead. The décor was upscale and posh, though the dance floor was packed like a weekend rave.