She walked in wearing a black cocktail dress, sleek and modern, the ensemble of an artist. I had served enough at these events to know who was who. Dressed in a crisp, white blouse and my black, short skirt, I wore the costume of a worker. All night long, I watched her interact with the patrons. Both men and women fawned over her. This woman was gracious to all of them. Circulating with my tray of drinks near her, I heard her accented voice. “Pardon, may I sample a beverage? I am parched.” She took a glass, brought it to...