The socialites crowded into the parlor jockeying for quality positions in the mingling race. Near the glass doors to the balcony, a solitary figure surveyed the room. He twirled his clove cigarette between his fingers as he took a sip of champagne…his pinky finger hooked skyward. His eyes met the ladies with a subtle wink. He shifted his glance from person to person as the corner of his mouth crept up into a grin. He noticed a prepster dazzling the crowd with his meet-and-greet charm. He watched the man work the room until he finally approached and extended a hand in welcome.

"Hi, I’m Ben Levy."

The man near the doors set down his drink and gripped Ben’s hand. "Shawn. Shawn Tufasey," he said.

"Shawn, right?"

"That’s me. I’m pretty well-known in these parts."

Ben looked over a few more details of Shawn’s face. "Really? So, what do you do?"

Shawn pulled out his wallet and removed a simple business card–the kind you print off a home computer–and handed it over to Ben. "I’m a Comic Book Creator Publicist."