Of course September is always the most difficult time.
Marie sets her coffee down, running a hand over her straggling hair and glancing down at what looks like might become a run in her tights. She purses her lips. Sighs.
Those were a new pair, too…
But as long as Bosworth doesn&rsqu...
<p>Of course September is always the most difficult time.</p>
<p>Marie sets her coffee down, running a hand over her straggling hair and glancing down at what looks like might become a run in her tights. She purses her lips. Sighs.</p>
<p><i>Those were a new pair, too…</i></p>
<p>But as long as Bosworth doesn’t see, it ought to be alright — he’s the only one who gives a damn, really. Always going on about keeping up appearances and presenting a ship-shape façade and impressing investors. As if anyone with even half the usual amount of eyesdoesn’t know that The Grand is what the kids might call Old News. Sure, it’d been quite the thing in its hey-day (Bosworth is always aggressively recounting the time Queen Victoria stayed here, right in the fifth floor suite), but nowadays it is indisputably creeping toward a kind of faded grandeur, a shabby what-had-been. It is the sort of place old people come to a little nostalgically, remembering Back in the Day when the bellhops didn’t smoke quite so many cigarettes and the concierge (Liesel, the poor old girl) still knew the places to be on a Saturday night.</p>
<p>But while the business conferences have tapered, honeymooners have wandered to bigger and better venues, and visiting movie stars have turned up their fine plastic noses, one group still remains. They’re called (at least among the staff) The September Party, and they’re the very reason that autumn month is such a wretched, beautiful time.</p>
<p>The September Party consists of about 120 people. They’re all men, and they’re all identically dressed: shabby herringbone tweed suits like knock-off P.G. Wodehouses, complete with matching hats that have all seen better days. They are all vaguely businessmen — Marie says <i>vaguely </i>because they dress like businessmen and will occasionally, if asked, make some ambiguous comment about profits or investors or marketing, all of which seem to suggest a business affiliation. They all appear to come from the same company, something called <i>The Powers of Darkness </i>— presumably something to do with electricity — and if some nosy person tries to find the place on Google and can’t, that’s entirely between them and the September Party. As for the Grand, <i>they </i>don’t mind; whatever privacy measures the company chooses to enact are its own busines...