The oak trees along the streets were dark silhouettes against the gray Dallas evening sky.

When we arrived at the hotel, the driveway was packed with black SUVs and sports cars.

Valets in red vests ran back and forth in the cool air.

I stepped out of the car and walked into the lobby.

The air inside smelled of expensive perfume, hot prime rib, and champagne.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a bright, yellow light over the crowd.

Men in custom tuxedos and women in shimmering designer gowns stood in small groups, laughing and clinking glasses.

I moved through the crowd toward the grand ballroom.

I saw them almost immediately near the entrance.

Graham was standing beside Gloria, holding a glass of scotch.

He was wearing his Tom Ford tuxedo, his chest puffed out as he spoke to a city councilman.

Gloria wore her heavy family emeralds and a dark green velvet dress that looked stiff and heavy.

They saw me approaching.

Graham’s smile instantly vanished, replaced by a dark scowl.

He stepped away from the councilman and intercepted me, his fingers gripping my upper arm.