I know, that sounds crazy. It sounded crazy to me, too. If I hadn’t had more than my share of fine champagne, I might have even slapped him in the face when he told me. But instead I stood there like an idiot, letting a stranger tell me things that should have made me blush. The odd thing was, though I’d never met him, I knew him instantly. My stupid boyfriend, Jim, had been betting at poker, as usual. He’d been drinking copious amounts of beer too, as usual. But instead of the regular poker night with his friends from work, where the stakes involved rarely went over twenty dollars, tonight he’d found himself in a ‘real’ game, and was in way beyond his ken. Amelia, my one and only truly rich friend, was throwing one of her gala bashes, complete with a veritable Who’s Who list of local celebrities, wealthy business people and movers and shakers in the community. As a reporter who covered the local scene, I was familiar with a lot of them, if not personally, at least by face and name.
