“Badonka donk check!” Lana called out as she flipped to camera view, Instagram livestream directed at Caleb’s ass as he strutted to the bathroom – he’d taken to hoisting his pants up by the belt loops, each step accompanied by a left-right thrust of the hips, excellently showcasing his assets. “Go white boy, go white boy, go! Go white boy, go whi– Hnnngah!” came as Lana tripped up over a dress strewn on the floor, camera jogging as she found her footing. Their room had been chaotic from the moment they arrived – instantly, Lana had plugged in a mood light, set it to vary through the rainbow as they chanted “gay rights!”. They’d already interviewed Viktor as if he was on a talk show, voices pensive as they asked what it was like to have fucked them both. Things derailed slightly when the answer apparently proved too exciting, prompting an abandoned camera and a quick clamber onto Viktor’s lap. Nevertheless, guest now evicted, they were still going strong. Premium content. At some point, Caleb had begun to piss. “Ugh. King. Literally listen to that, like… that stream. That’s the thick, strong stream of a big ol’ horse dick, I’m serious, everyone. Everyone wishes they could have what Caleb has. Like… They just… wish, they wish! They wish so b– Hey. What the fuck?” Gasping suddenly, something caught her attention in the comments. Camera flipped back, it showcased Lana letting out a scoff of disbelief. “Bev.kingston,” read as “Bev Dot Kingston”, “just said ‘you both bitch’? In all caps?” Eyes flying towards Caleb, it was instinctive, the way her foot began to stomp, a hand slapping against the wall in rhythm with Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You’. “You. Both. Bitch… You. Both. Bitch.” @calebmontgcmery
The initial disappointment of not being placed in the same house as Elias had worn off almost as soon as it had arrived following an appointment with Lana to stay in the same room. Caleb had been treating it much like a formal hotel reservation, slinging his bags onto the floor for someone to carry to his room and instantly cracking open the first bottle of booze he’d found in the kitchen. Now, several hours later with his bags somehow making their way back to him, he couldn’t remember how many bottles of wine he’d managed to steal with Lana or how many bowls he’d packed, only that he was doing something of a potty dance for an ever increasing Instagram Live audience and that he could vaguely make out Lana’s chanting. “I love this song, turn it up!” he hollered in response to her rendition of ‘go white boy go’, still doing a bit of a jig as he tried his best to aim. “It’s a bit rocky in here!” he declared wildly, like a sailor on a ship that was overturning, “Men overboard!” He was shouting so loudly he couldn’t even make out the compliments about him Lana was giving to the camera. He was already beginning to think quite fondly of the following they had managed to amass, until he moved to wash his hands and heard Lana’s distraught announcement. He met her eye and started dancing back to her, the same strut as before, to the beat of her new song. It felt like a much more somber jig, like they were mourning something. “Bev.kingston,” he echoed, voice sounding near hollow. “What the fuck’s her--” Realization struck like a slap to the face as he finally registered where he knew the username. “Oh shit! They’re already taking sides! It’s an all out ship war.” Snatching the phone from Lana’s hand as he did his best to stomp along to her beat, Caleb began to pout. “I will be reviewing my legal options Bev.kingston,” he began, speaking directly to the assailant. “Love is love.” He began to hand the phone back when another message from Bev appeared on the screen, a hashtag, like a movement was beginning. “Hashtag Calana is over party. Are we getting cancelled?”