Chapter 28 - A Chance Encounter on Rodeo DriveDuring my brief stay in Los Angeles, I took a quiet afternoon to walk down Rodeo Drive to visit a private art gallery exhibition.
The autumn sun warmed the upscale avenue, casting long shadows across the luxury storefronts. Shoppers hurried past, engrossed in their mobile devices and shopping bags.
As I stepped out of the art gallery, a figure standing near a bus stop caught my eye.
It was Beatrice.
She looked unrecognizable. Her expensive designer coats were gone, replaced by a faded, shapeless woolen jacket. Her hair, once perfectly dyed and styled at exclusive salons, was now streaked with gray and unkempt. She was holding a plastic grocery bag, staring blankly at the passing traffic with hollow, defeated eyes.
For a second, she turned her head and our eyes locked across the pavement.
Beatrice froze.
The sheer horror and embarrassment that flashed across her face was agonizing to watch. She instinctively raised her trembling hands to cover her face, turning away and shuffling hurriedly toward the bus stop, desperate to blend into the crowd and escape my sight.
I didn't stop. I didn't gloat. I didn't say a single word.
May you like
I simply adjusted the collar of my designer coat, stepped into my waiting executive town car, and instructed the driver to take me back to the Bel Air estate.
Some people spend their entire lives trying to tear others down, only to realize too late that they were digging their own graves.
