A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Previously: Bianca fired Raven from a Marie Claire photoshoot for talking shit about Courtney. Aurora was called in as a pinch-hitter when Raja rejected Violet’s Met Gala pitches. The Galactica Fashion Week Show went off beautifully.
This Chapter: Raven throws a tantrum, and Aurora steps up to the plate.
***
“…So then I stepped into the light, and I swear I could hear a pin drop in the room. It was like…even more than a gasp. Just the entire crown taking this collective breath and holding it until I put my first foot forward,” Raven said, eyes sparkling.
“Mmhmm.” Juju nodded, sipping her decaf latte and glancing quickly at her phone. Meeting Raven for coffee before work was always risky. She wanted to catch up with her friend, of course, but Raven tended to let time get away from her, not quite realizing that Juju’s schedule was a bit less flexible than her own. Luckily, she was too deep in her own story to notice Juju’s split-second distraction from her recap.
“Then, as I began to walk the runway, they all slowly exhaled, still not making a sound, every single pair of eyes on me. It was just absolutely exhilarating.”
“Sounds like it!”
“I wish you were there,” Raven pouted.
“Me too,” Juju said. “But this week is big money for me. It basically paid Kelly’s tuition this spring.”
“Get them coins, Mama.”
“You know it. And De was there repping the family. Although I’m not sure how much good that did. He said that Fame nearly took off his head for mentioning Bianca in front of the Vogue reporter.”
“With good reason!” Raven exclaimed, shaking her head. “What possessed him to nearly ruin a lovely evening by bringing up that cunt’s name-”
“Raven.”
“What?! Don’t fucking tell me you’re still staying neutral, Juju.”
“I am, and you know this; I’ve said all along that I’m not taking sides-” Juju could feel her ears heating up, her stomach twisting as Raven’s eyes grew cold. She knew this already, why was she acting like this was new information?
“No! I knew you weren’t taking sides when it was about her and Fame and their petty bullshit. When it was about Bianca fucking some nobody assistant who she’s gonna get bored of in a month, leaving some dumb dinner early, whatever else Fame was salty about. Blah blah, we all know they’ll make up as soon as Bianca ditches the prosti-tot. Hashtag who cares.”
Juju rolled her eyes. “Your compassion is-”
“Shut up, you know what I mean. This is not about that anymore! I don’t care about that. She fired me, Juju. Fired me, in front of a bunch of fucking people!”
“I know, Rave, but-”
“Did you just say ‘but’?” Raven looked like she could murder Juju in cold blood. This was getting extremely out of hand.
“Look, I know how horrible that was, I’m not denying that or arguing with you. What I’m thinking about is what a fucking bummer it is when a group of friends is fractured. Maybe I’m being selfish. Because I hate this. I hated the last time it happened, with Jinkx. You weren’t around then, but…I just want this to get solved because…” Juju took a deep breath. “Rave, you can’t imagine how quickly weeks turn into months, and months turn into years. You know?”
Juju bit her lip, hoping that Raven would understand. She wasn’t sure she did, since Raven was still glaring at her.
“What?” she asked tentatively, aware she might be opening up another whole can of worms.
“How can you even think to talk to me about ‘solving things’ with that fucking cunt?! Where is your loyalty?”
Juju sighed, closing her eyes. “Rave-”
“No, because, I told you what happened,” Raven said, getting ready to launch into the saga once again, which Juju was not looking forward to in the slightest. “She humiliated me for no reason, out of pure spite-”
“Okay-”
“All I said was some totally benign things about what her dumb sugar baby was wearing, or something, I don’t even remember because they were such like, random throwaway comments-”
“Rave-”
Of course, Juju had dragged the story out of Bianca, too, because Raven’s version seemed…incomplete, to say the least. Juju loved her friend, but an innocent victim she was not. And Bianca’s version, as expected, was completely different. At first, she acted like it was no big deal, something that was over and done with. A simple case of Raven being unprofessional and that was that. Holding a grudge? Not the great Bianca Del Rio! But as she told the story, it became pretty clear how hurt and angry she was over the whole incident as well.
Juju was pretty sure the truth was somewhere in between their two stories, as usual.
“And she totally lost it, screaming in my face and throwing her weight around like some big shot to show off to her stupid girlfriend! Plus, she totally intimidated the Galactica staff into going along with it since none of them ranked high enough to stand up to her-”
“Rave, please-” This part about intimidating the Galactica staff was new. It seemed that, true to Raven fashion, the story was growing more and more elaborate each time she told it. Some people’s anger faded over time, but Raven’s seemed to grow, strengthened by the myths that she told herself to fuel the rage.
“She literally had security throw me out of the building!” Raven said, her voice shrill now, attracting attention from some of the others, which was the last thing Juju wanted, “Like I probably had bruises on my arm where-”
“Raven! Stop!”
Raven finally stopped talking, her face a picture of betrayal as she stared at Juju, aghast.
“I…I’m sorry. I know it was awful for you, and I hate that it happened, but I can’t listen to this story anymore-”
“Are you fucking serious-”
“Yeah! Yeah, I am, because I love you, I love you so much, but every time you tell it, it gets more and more over the top, and I’m not gonna sit here and pretend to hate one of my oldest friends just because your idea of loyalty is an ass-kisser who smiles and nods at you. That’s not me, it never has been, and-”
Raven stood up, practically knocking her chair over in the process, snatching up her things and tossing her fur wrap over her shoulder.
“Get fucked, Juju,” she hissed, before turning on her heel and flouncing away.
Juju sighed, putting her head in her hands. This was absolutely not how she planned to begin her day. Her phone began to buzz, and she answered, the twinge of a migraine beginning behind her left eye.
“Hey.”
“Hola!” chirped a sunny voice. Their new receptionist, who’d been pretty good so far. She was recommended for the job by Adore, of all people. Something about a friend of a cousin, or cousin of a friend, or cousin of a cousin. She wasn’t quite sure, but the girl was cheerful, pretty, and so far seemed competent. “Mrs. Drescher wants to know if she can come in at 10:15 instead of 10:45. Since she’s your first, I thought-”
Juju glanced at the clock. It would be tight, but she could make it. She reached into her bag for some Imitrex and said, “Tell her I’m on the way in and I’ll do my best, but it might be 10:20.”
“Will do! Gracias!”
Juju popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed it down with her latte. Before she left, she made sure to slip an extra $100 to the baristas. It wouldn’t guarantee their silence about any part of the tiff between her and Raven that they’d potentially overheard, but it might make them feel a bit less inclined to talk to the media. And Juju could be annoyed at Raven without wanting a story about a supermodel meltdown in a coffee shop to start circulating.
***
Aurora stood next to the rolling rack, a large portfolio folder under her arm, her heart beating so fast and loud, she may as well have been in an off license with a fake ID instead of outside Raja Gemini’s office, waiting to present her Met Gala looks.
She had nearly shit herself with fear when Trixie told her she’d be presenting alone, since he was out all morning and Raja had limited time in the office before leaving for London.
“You’ll be great,” he’d assured her, “And don’t worry. It’s not a formal presentation. Just show her what you have and take note of everything she says. You’re not expected to talk unless she asks you direct questions.”
‘Not talking’ had never exactly been Aurora’s biggest strength. Great. Fucking great.
Now, here she was, in the explosion of green and warmth that was Raja’s office suite, surrounded by plants and rich fabrics and vibrant colors, the whole thing screaming that here worked someone who was absolutely crystal clear on what their aesthetic was, and if Aurora failed, then what would her future be at this company?
She’d been in the same room with Raja a handful of times since she’d begun, but she’d never spoken directly to her, and the idea of having to do that, by herself, when one of the other designer’s ideas had already been ripped to very public and humiliating shreds was making her feel like she might faint. What gave her the fucking audacity to think she could do this when someone more experienced had already failed?
Raja would take one look at her work and know immediately that hiring her was a mistake, that she didn’t belong, that she was-
“You can go inside now.”
Aurora jumped slightly, rescued by the spiral of her own self doubt by Ivy’s voice, as Raja’s assistant came out of her office, leaving the door open behind her.
“And don’t be nervous,” Ivy said, with a warm smile. “She’s got her tea and she’s ready.”
Aurora nodded gratefully and pushed the rack inside, a bit startled to see that Raja wasn’t at her desk, but instead in the sitting area, on a plush chair covered in intricately embroidered fabric, a velvet pillow under her elbow.
“Um, good morning. I’m Aurora, and-”
“Good morning,” Raja said, a slight note of confusion in her voice, one eyebrow raising just slightly. “I thought you were going to show me sketches?”
“Oh. oh, yes, I do have sketches,” Aurora said. She swallowed, fumbling to open the folder, pulling out the sketches. “I just, um, I thought maybe you would like to see some samples as well, so I made a few…these are-”
Raja held out a hand to reach for the sketches and Aurora bit her lip, remembering the part about not talking unless you were answering a question.
She shifted nervously, watching as Raja looked through the sketches, twirling a bit of her long hair around her finger, her beautiful face giving nothing away.
Ever so often, she would lift one of the pages to examine something closer, or make the smallest “hmm” sound.
Aurora was dying to know what she thought. Love? Hate? Lukewarm indifference?
Her one ray of hope, in this moment, was that, if everything was truly garbage, Raja would surely have thrown her out already, right?
“Alright…” Raja stood up, suddenly even more imposing in her fitted jumpsuit, her long limbs and slender frame making it look elegant and severe. “Let’s see those samples.”
“Right! Certainly…” Aurora gulped and turned around, pulling some items from the rack. “So, this is the jacket. I wasn’t sure whether you were looking for a pant or a dress, so I have two different looks that could potentially go underneath. I thought the black snakeskin could be-”
“Mmhmm…”
Aurora promptly clamped her mouth shut as Raja took the jacket from the rack, examining the sleeve, turning it inside out to look at the seams.
“I, uh, I know the stitching isn’t perfect, but it’s just a sample, that would obviously be fixed in a real-”
“How long did you spend making this jacket?” Raja asked, turning towards her.
“Uh, about, um, six…six hours? That was, um, the actual sewing. But, I, um-”
“Hmm,” Raja turned back to the rack.
Aurora took another breath, slowly, as she pawed through the sample pieces, taking a closer look at some of them, even going back to the sketches to compare. Aurora’s head was swimming, and she started to get a bit dizzy.
Stay calm, you motherfucking idiot. Do not faint in front of Raja Gemini.
“Ready for notes?”
“What?” Aurora blinked at her like an idiot before her mind fully processed what Raja had said and she quickly shouted, “Yes!”
Raja took a small step back.
Oh my god did you just yell in Raja Gemini’s face? What the fuck is wrong with you?
“I mean, sorry, yes. I’m ready.” She pulled out the notepad and pen from her folder and sat primly at the edge of a royal purple velvet sofa.
“Wonderful. The jacket has potential, but only as a concept, so we need changes. The sleeves should be shorter, three quarters, and the collar needs drama. For fabrics, give me a richer, deeper red. Something stiff, with structure. Perhaps an upholstery fabric? Obviously lined, even if this is a sample.”
Aurora nodded, scribbling vigorously to keep up.
“The lining could be an opportunity.” Raja pulled the jacket open, looking at herself in the mirror for a second. “Explore Oriental silks and get back to me with a selection. Galactica’s ignoring the theme this year for the most part, but it never hurts to throw Ms. Wintour a bone.”
She smiled, and Aurora stifled a laugh, not at all imagining that Raja Gemini would be making jokes.
“This length is awkward. Re-imagine it as a formal duster with a big sweeping train, and before you spend another work day making samples, sketches do exist, and for a reason.”
“Yes ma’am.” Aurora could barely believe her ears. These notes felt…very minor. Of course she knew from the beginning that the sample fabric was just that - sample fabric. So that was Shortening a sleeve. A more dramatic collar. Adding a train?
“As far as what goes underneath, this pant is the most intriguing to me. And these ankle boots…what made you bring shoes, anyway?”
“M-Maxwell told me you’d expect a fully realized look, so I thought-”
“Ah. Well, yes, good advice. I agree with you about the snakeskin on the pants. It’s cool, the detailing on the sides is great, I like the high waist… But…” she squinted, tilting her head.
Aurora waited, pen poised while Raja scrutinized the pants.
“What do you think of a boot cut?”
“Absolutely not,” Aurora stated, before she could stop herself, then looked up with alarm, expecting an angry glare.
Instead, she was grinning, her dark eyes dancing with laughter.
“I’m sorry. I…of course I’ll do whatever you want,” Aurora stammered out.
“Yes, well…perhaps we can forgo a boot cut for now,” she said. “And I’d like to go back to the drawing board in terms of tops. Everything here is too busy, too much going on. We need to streamline.”
“Got it.”
“I’d like you to pull some alternate fabrics for the jackets, and then I’d really like to see how these pants look.” Raja pressed a button on her phone’s intercom, “Ivy, can you come in for a moment?”
“Of course!” Seconds later, Ivy sailed through the door. “Yes?”
“I want to schedule a fitting with Aurora for tomorrow, before I leave. Can we squeeze it in?”
“Um…yes, I think so. Depending on what time that New York Women’s Foundation luncheon ends, we can maybe say 3?”
“The luncheon where Gwenyth is the keynote speaker?” Raja asked.
“Yes.”
“Please. I would love an excuse to leave early,” Raja said. “Pencil it in for 2:30.”
“You got it!” Ivy grinned.
Raja turned back to Aurora. “I’d like to see some more fabric samples for the jacket, with a few revised sketches, and I want to see the pants on to get an idea of what they look like. I’ll be able to give you much better notes after that.”
“That sounds perfect!” Aurora said. She still couldn’t believe that any of this was happening. Raja Gemini liked her design. Raja Gemini was going to wear her design to the Met Gala. It was insane, if she actually thought about it.
“Some concepts for a new top would be appreciated as well,” Raja said, walking back to her desk and sitting down. She opened up a file folder and began to read the contents, her attention now on something else entirely.
Aurora took that as a cue to mean that she was finished, so nodded and began to put all of the garments back onto hangers as quickly as possible. She couldn’t wait to get back downstairs to report the great news to the others, who had all been teasing her, assuring her that Raja would probably hate everything in the first round and not to feel too bad about it.
As she was pushing the rack towards the door, Raja looked up from her desk and called out, “Aurora!”
“Yes?”
“Great work this week. Thanks a lot.”
“Thank you so much!” Aurora said, a grin spreading across her face that probably made her look like a grade-A twat. Okay, idiot, get out now before you burst into happy tears and snot all over Raja Gemini’s 4 million dollar rug. “Um…see you tomorrow!”
“Mmhm…” Raja smiled and went back to her paperwork.
Aurora took that as a final goodbye, and bolted triumphantly towards the elevators. She couldn’t wait to report back to the rest of the designers with the news of her incredible success.
Hey guys! @theartificialdane and I are thrilled to bring you this Bitney-focused Galactica sequel. For those of you that have not read all 250+ chapters of Galactica (lol, omg, can you believe that?!), here’s a little background just so that you’re caught up (after the jump). For those of you that HAVE, we are picking up with Courtney in Miami 2 days after the wedding.
Back story: In this AU, Bianca is the Editor in Chief of Marie-Claire magazine, with a thing for young blondes, and Courtney is a brand new pop star just beginning to achieve a little success, and cast member of Real Housewives of New York. (Go with us here. Haha.) They’ve been having a rocky time lately, since Courtney is starting to feel like Bianca doesn’t respect her as an equal partner. (She’s not wrong.) The last time we saw Bitney, they had a big fight, and Courtney left for a Miami trip with the Housewives after telling Bianca that she needs “space” for a couple of days to clear her head.
Other background: Adore is Courtney’s best friend and Bianca’s baby sister. She’s in a trouple with Jinkx (a Broadway star and super wealthy heiress) and Alaska (a makeup executive at Miss Fame’s company).
CHAPTER 1
Miami. January.
Courtney looked around the Triple A arena, still in utter shock at the size of the crowd, waving and bowing after her second encore, body aching and drenched with sweat after. By the time she got off stage for good after her concert, her face hurt from smiling so much. She barely remembered the walk to the green room, where she kicked off her heels and collapsed onto a sofa, hoping to rest for a few minutes before changing.
“Sorry I’m so boring right now,” she mumbled to Jane, her Real Housewives producer, who was standing next to the camera crew.
“You’re fine, don’t worry. As you were,” Jane said, giving a rare smile.
Soon, the doors burst open, and Ramona sailed in, trailed by the others, squealing with excitement.
“That was unbelievable!” Ramona cried. Courtney could tell by her speech that she was quite a few pinot grigios in, and beckoned her over to the sofa. The other housewives continued to gush about her performance, even Bethenny. Courtney sighed happily, feeling content and proud despite the exhaustion. Then Ramona leaned over to Courtney and whispered conspiratorially, “Are you ready for a surprise?”
“What kind of surprise?” Courtney asked, hoping it was something edible that didn’t require getting up for a while.
“The kind that only people with human emotions care about,” Bethenny said, rolling her eyes and making Carole laugh.
With two cameras now trained on the green room door, Courtney turned her head to watch. A few moments later, Bianca appeared in the doorway, holding an enormous bouquet of pink roses. Courtney’s mouth opened as Ramona squealed and clapped.
“Are you surprised?!” Sonja asked excitedly. “She flew in this afternoon!”
“I’m-” Courtney took a breath, heart racing. “Yeah, I’m surprised.”
“Hi angel,” Bianca said softly. “You were incredible out there.”
“Thanks.” Courtney swallowed. She really, really didn’t want to drag her current relationship drama into the show, so she supposed that playing along with this intrusion was her best option. She bit back her annoyance - she’d explicitly told Bianca that she needed a break. A couple of days away to clear her head and reconcile how she felt after that bullshit with Farrah. But as usual, they were going to do things according to Bianca’s timeline. Not hers.
Courtney stood and walked to where Bianca stood, kissing her gently on the mouth.
“Awwww!” Dorinda cooed.
“I...I can’t believe you’re here,” Courtney admitted. That part, at least, was honest.
“I planned something special for us,” Bianca told her.
“Right now?” All Courtney wanted, at the moment, was a warm shower and a soft bed. Possibly some french fries, which she fucking deserved.
“You’re gonna love it,” Bianca said, fingers gripping her waist.
“Okay, that’s...I should probably change,” Courtney said, resigned to go along with whatever Bianca (and, she had no doubt, her producers) had in store.
“I mean, if you must,” said Bianca with a wink, eyeing her skimpy costume up and down. Which Courtney would have found cute if she wasn’t still simmering with anger and confusion.
With a weak laugh, Courtney backed up and headed for the dressing room.
***
It was truly beautiful. A private, secluded beach. Thousands of candles. A picnic basket filled with all of her favorite things. And it wasn’t like she didn’t appreciate the sentiment. It was just that, given their current state of affairs, she found it hard to enjoy everything. Adding to the stress of it all were the cameras and her physical exhaustion from the concert.
“I missed you so much,” Bianca said.
“It’s been two days,” Courtney reminded her warily.
“I know. And I haven’t slept since you left New York.”
Courtney sighed. As usual, they weren’t going to talk about her feelings. Only Bianca’s. And of course, she supposed that was her fault, since she didn’t want to get into everything on camera. She didn’t even really know exactly how she felt. Between rehearsing for the concert and dealing with the housewives, she hadn’t actually had a moment to think about her relationship, how she felt, what she wanted - any of it.
“Do you know how much I love you?” Bianca asked.
“Of course,” Courtney said. “I’m...I’m sorry about the way I left.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Bianca murmured, pulling her close. “I’m sorry too. I’m so, so sorry. I should have told you about that idiotic Farrah thing the second it happened.”
“That’s not exactly why I was upset,” Courtney said, hoping that they could talk without getting too specific. “I just…” She sighed again. She was going to lose. She could feel it.
“Please forgive me,” Bianca said, face buried in her hair. “I’m an idiot. I’m such a fucking idiot…”
“Of course I forgive you,” Courtney said, letting Bianca kiss the corners of her mouth, her jaw, her neck. She tilted her head, trying to enjoy the affection without feeling so conflicted.
“Look at me…” Bianca took her chin in her hands and looked into her eyes. “I love you...so fucking much, Courtney. I can’t stand being apart. I can’t stand hurting you. I’m so...all I want is to be with you. Forever.”
“B…” Courtney had longed to hear these words, so many times. But there was a nagging ache in her throat. A lump that she couldn’t swallow down, no matter how much she tried.
When Bianca smiled and pulled a small box out of her jacket, Courtney’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. What was she doing? And why here? Why now?
“I want to spend my life with you,” Bianca said, opening the box to reveal a gigantic diamond ring.
“Is that...is that a real diamond?”
“Of course it is,” Bianca laughed.
It was a diamond so big, Courtney had to blink several times, pinching her thigh, to even believe it was real. A diamond so big that Courtney’s nagging ache turned into white-hot rage. Had Bianca heard a single thing she’d said in the last year about diamonds and murder and slavery? Why had her need to show off become more important than an issue Courtney had talked about over and over?
Courtney pulled back abruptly, brow furrowed. Somehow the ring was easier to focus on than the betrayal of being blindsided like this in front of TV cameras.
“So...now we’re just supporting genocide?!”
“I...what? Baby…” Bianca laughed. “I can switch out the stone. But, I’m telling you that I want to marry you.”
Courtney’s heart sped up as she went over Bianca’s words in her mind. I want...I love...I miss, I want, I can’t stand...I want, I want, I want…
It was always about her. Courtney felt sick.
“Please say yes,” Bianca said.
“Yes to what?” Courtney spit out. “You didn’t ask me a question.”
“I guess I didn’t, did I?” Bianca laughed again, still not getting it. “Courtney Act, will you-”
“Stop,” Courtney whispered, wishing she could turn back time.
“Courtney, I’m trying to-”
“I need to get out of here,” Courtney said, and then turned to Jane, watching intently from behind one of the cameras, loudly repeating, “I need to get out of here!” When no one made a move, she began to rip off her mic pack, voice growing shrill as she exclaimed, “Now! Jane!”
“Courtney-” Bianca began, finally starting to comprehend that tonight wasn’t going according to plan.
“I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now,” Courtney knew she had about a minute, if she was lucky, before the tears started, and she wanted to be as far from the cameras as fucking possible when that happened.
A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Previously: Bianca fled from the Galactica show before the afterparty to avoid Fame’s cold shoulder, and Violet celebrated her first successful runway show with a couple of drinks. A lot of drinks.
This Chapter: Courtney comforts Bianca and Sutan gets lucky.
***
Courtney wrapped herself into a soft, fluffy bathrobe. She’d spent three hours in the gym that morning, then worked with two different producers over Skype, then rushed off to a vocal lesson. By the time she’d gotten home, she was so exhausted, she nearly fell asleep in the bathtub.
Now though, she was feeling clean, moisturized and relaxed, and hoped that she could convince Bianca to spend a quiet night in, since they both had incredibly busy days coming up as well. She opened the bedroom door, surprised to see that she’d gotten home already, laying on top of the covers with her clothes still on and an arm flung over her eyes.
“Hey! How long have you been home?” Courtney asked, crawling onto the bed to stretch out beside her. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Umm…” Bianca turned her head tiredly to glance at the clock, then said, “I’m not sure. Maybe 20 minutes?”
“I’m happy you’re here,” Courtney murmured, settling into her arms, head resting on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Mmmhmm…” Bianca ran her fingers through Courtney’s still-damp hair, seeming anything but okay. “I was planning to spend some time packing, but…I’m too fuckin’ tired.”
“You deserve to relax,” Courtney told her. She’d been putting outfits aside for weeks now and seemed to be at a point where she was just obsessively changing the accessories every time she looked at them; Courtney knew for a fact that she was fully prepared.
Bianca sighed, and Courtney felt the familiar guilt bubbling up. She knew that the reason she was home early was that she’d skipped the Galactica party, and while hadn’t been planning to stay long, she’d been hoping that she’d at least have a few drinks, which maybe could have turned into a few more…possibly even reconciling with her friends. How much longer was this feud going to last?
They’d been friends for so long, surely they’d weathered bigger storms than this one.
“So…how was…um, how was your day?” Courtney asked, trying to tread lightly, not wanting to dive in and ask about Galactica directly, right away. Maybe she wouldn’t be ready to talk about it.
“It was okay. The show was pretty spectacular, actually. One of their best ever.” Bianca didn’t waste time talking about the other collections she’d seen that day, knowing right away what Courtney was getting at.
“That’s good, right?”
Bianca nodded, and Courtney laced their fingers together before asking softly, “Did you talk to her?”
After a tense moment, Bianca just shook her head, letting out another little sigh. Courtney hated seeing this, how sad she was about being estranged from her best friend. She especially hated that it had to do with her, that something she did had caused it.
“You know…I was thinking…”
Bianca looked up at her, eyes questioning, and Courtney took a breath. It might be totally out of line for her to even suggest this, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing Bianca so sad was terrible, and even though she had never truly gotten to know Fame on a personal level—not the way Bianca or even Adore did, anyway—she felt like she knew enough to maybe help fix the problem.
“...I don’t know, B, but if all she wants is an apology, for you to like, grovel and ask for forgiveness, then…maybe you should just give that to her.”
Courtney bit her lip, hoping that Bianca wouldn’t be annoyed at the suggestion. For a second, it looked like she might, brow furrowing, opening her mouth to give her typical snarky comeback. But then, the irritation seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only sadness, and she let out a heavy sigh.
“Maybe you’re right. I just…I really wanted her to see that she had a role in this, you know? She’s not some perfect angel. It feels like we should both be saying sorry.”
“I know. And I agree with you, in principle. But…well, whenever I fought with my friends when I was a kid, my mum used to tell me, ‘Sometimes when we love people, we have to choose between being right, and being happy.’”
Bianca chuckled drily. “But I want to be both.”
“That’s what I used to say,” Courtney admitted, giggling, and Bianca went in for another kiss.
When they parted, Bianca sighed again. “Alright, mum, I guess I’ll shoot for happy…”
“Good girl.” Courtney grinned, shifting slightly on top of her, fingers sliding up her thigh.
Bianca finally cracked a smile. “Glad you approve.”
“Mmhmm. But now, I only get you for three more days, so I think we should make the most of it.”
“Good idea.” Bianca cupped her cheek, a soft smile on her face as pulled her down, capturing her lips in a kiss.
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Courtney whispered against her.
“You sure I can’t convince you to come with me?”
“Don’t tempt me!”
“But tempting you is my favorite hobby,” Bianca said, flashing a grin. She still had Courtney’s face cupped gently in her hands.
“I wish I could, but…we’re supposed to start recording next week, and I don’t know how that’s even gonna be possible, but-”
“You’re gonna be great.”
She gazed down at Bianca, looking into her brown eyes and seeing something wistful and a bit sad.
“I would come if I could.”
“Yeah.” Bianca gave her another smile. “I know, angel.”
“Do you want to order dinner?”
“I’m more in the mood for dessert right now,” Bianca said, flipping Courtney onto her back, making her shriek happily as she pulled open her robe, hands sliding up her body.
Courtney closed her eyes, arching up into her touch, any and every previous thought a distant memory as her skin tingled under Bianca’s touch.
***
Nothing said fashion week like having his laptop with him in bed.
Sutan was sitting against the headboard, glasses on, working away on his email. He wasn’t drunk, tipsy at most, but he kept everything he wrote as drafts so he could read them before pressing send in the morning, Sutan learning the hard way that he should never fully trust an email that was written after midnight.
He was just finishing up on the most urgent ones, when the door to the bathroom opened, Violet slipping in. He had only needed to brush his teeth, but Violet had her entire nighttime routine, his girlfriend adorably adamant on doing it, even after a night out, her products on their own shelf in the bathroom.
“There you are, lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled, closing his laptop and placing it on the floor. He grabbed his glasses, moving to put them on the nightstand and turn off the light.
“Oh…”
Sutan paused at the disappointed sound, his hand on the switch, the bedside lamp on Violet’s side still lit. “Oh?”
“Umh…” Violet bit her lip, the sight of them without lipstick strangely erotic, her white teeth sinking in. “Well…” She walked over to the bed, untying her robe, her long bare legs delicious, her manicured toes sinking into the carpet. “I was hoping…”
“Yes?” Sutan knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t wait to see where this was going, excitement curling in his belly.
Violet got on the bed, her hands on either side of Sutan’s legs, her silk robe falling open, revealing her fantastic tits, her nipples perfect rose buds.
“Fuck.” Sutan swallowed, which made Violet giggle, his girlfriend sitting down on his lap, Sutan cursing the duvet between them.
“Hopefully.” Violet smiled, her thighs over his hips. “That’s only…” Her fingers found the neckline of his t-shirt, gently tugging on the white cotton. “If you’re not too tired. Of course.”
“Too tired?” Sutan finally allowed his hands to wander, touching up up up and under Violet’s robe, grabbing her ass and clenching tight, her cheeks perfect in his grab. “Never.”
Violet gasped, her mouth falling open, a blush spreading on her cheeks. “Please…”
She was so shy, barely looking at him even as he pressed her against him, kneading her flesh.
Violet was so endlessly fascinating, so needlessly complex, the sweet girl on his lap barely recognisable as the same one who demanded he drop his pants when she was frustrated, who texted him her masturbation plans in the middle of the work day without an ounce of shame.
“Sutan.” Violet leaned down, capturing his lips, practically melting into him. There was no hurry in her kiss, and while Sutan already knew he’d hate his alarm, he was beyond grateful that he remembered to stock up on condoms, Violet perfect and hot as hell in his hands.
A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Previously: The Galactica Fashion Week Runway show went off without any major malfunctions.
This Chapter: Welcome to the Afterparty! Networking, awkwardness, flirting, drunken shenanigans and a threat of homicide (or not…we certainly didn’t hear anything).
***
There was a genuine smile on Fame’s face after the show closed, and Trixie could finally relax.
The show was a success. Everything was fine.
Of course, there would be the evaluations, the meetings, the press, the sales figures, but none of that really mattered if Fame wasn’t satisfied with what they had created.
In reality, Trixie just wanted to go home, to spend time with Katya, but he had promised Fame to hang around at the party, had even changed into a suit and tie for it, the jacket as always restrictive and uncomfortable. There were still plenty of shows, Raja and Fame would be leaving for Europe on monday at the latest, but as far as Trixie was concerned, his role at fashion week was fulfilled, at least until the late spring.
Trixie took a sip from his champagne flute. He had hesitated before grabbing one, his sense of solidarity towards Katya’s sobriety even fiercer now that she was pregnant, but he was allowed a glass to celebrate a well-received collection.
“Trixie!”
Trixie coughed, nearly choking on his drink as he came face to face with none other than Chad Michaels. Chad was one of New York’s most well known philanthropists, and therefore also someone that everyone in fashion had some sort of working relationship with, since she constantly needed new fabulous clothes.
Chad was in her 60s, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying and experimenting with fashion, her dress for the night a gorgeous Galactica in beautiful cranberry red from the holiday collection.
“Just the man I needed to see!” Chad smiled as she grabbed his elbow, a slightly manic look in her eyes, heavy jewelry dangling from her ears, the scent of Chanel reaching his nose. “The closing dress. Has anyone claimed it? Please tell me I’m the first one!”
“Ah.” Trixie should have expected that Chad wanted to buy it. She was one of their most loyal customers, constantly photographed in their designs, and never shying away from praising the brand. Of course she would want Violet’s dress. Their newest designer had really outdone herself yet again. “I’m really sorry, but I think it’s an archival.”
The Galactica archive was something to behold, Ivy guarding it with her life, the room temperature controlled and as secure as any bank vault. Trixie hadn’t heard Raja make the final decision, but he had seen the look on Fame’s face, had felt the mood shift amongst the audience as they were moved by the piece.
It was too early to tell, but Trixie wouldn’t be surprised if fashion journalists would look back at this very show as a pivotal moment in Galactica’s history.
“I’ll be damned.” Chad sighed heavily. “I was hoping to wear it for the Met.”
“You haven’t decided on a dress?” The Met Gala was only three months away, the first Monday in May approaching at a worrying pace.
“I thought I did, but nothing truly inspires. You know how it is.”
Trixie nodded. Unsure of what to do, how to help, when he spotted exactly who he needed in the crowd.
“Violet!”
Violet turned, and he beckoned her over. She walked towards them, and as Trixie took in her bright eyes, the pink flush of her cheeks, he realized that she must be quite tipsy. He wondered if bringing her over was a mistake, but too late now. So instead he put an arm around her shoulders.
“Violet is one of our most fabulous couture designers. She designed the closing look that you love so much.”
“You did?” Chad asked, eyes widening as she took Violet in.
“Yes.”
“Congratulations dear,” Chad said, lifting her glass in a toast. “You have a great talent.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, of course, I’ll talk to them about the dress you want, but if I can’t make that happen, what would you say to this extremely talented young lady whipping you up something custom for the Met Gala?”
Violet turned to him, a panicked look on her face, gripping his jacket. “But, Raja-”
Shit. He hadn’t told her that Raja rejected all of her designs, or that he’d enlisted other concepts from Aurora, because he didn’t want to stress her out this week, not with everything she was dealing with being back in Fame’s office. And he certainly couldn’t explain all that right here, right now. He leaned in and spoke softly, under his breath.
“Don’t worry, we’ll work it out. Just play along, we’re making a sale.”
Violet nodded, and turned back towards Chad with a smile, who was looking at them with a delighted expression, hands clasped together.
“Well that sounds divine! With your design genius and my impeccable taste, we’re bound to blow them all away!” Chad smiled, then glanced around before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Granted, I do wish the theme was better, but…whatever Anna says goes, eh?”
Trixie laughed, and looked over to see that Violet was giggling too. He relaxed a bit, feeling good, that Violet and Chad would at least get along fine, and that maybe this way she wouldn’t be too heartbroken about losing the Raja job.
***
“Okay,” Symone exclaimed, lifting her arms in the air. “Who’s ready for the next round?!”
“Almost,” Adore laughed, her arm draped loosely around Tati’s waist, pulling her in to say, “Have I told you how much I like your new roommates? They’re fucking fun.”
“They are,” Tati giggled, “but not good at pacing themselves.” Tati lifted her cocktail, the vodka soda a model standard that Adore knew all too well. “I’m not even halfway done with this one, how are you ready for another round?”
“These drinks are free and the booze is premium. Keep up!” Symone exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Right, Bim?”
“One sec.” Bimini tossed back the last of her whiskey and set the glass down on the table heavily. “Alright, love. Lead the way.”
“Yaaaas!” Symone pranced towards the bar, Bimini following close behind.
Tati turned to Adore, shaking her head. “I thought we drank a lot, but those girls. They fucking drink. It’s a little worrying. I mean, we’re like, at work.”
“You’re cute,” Adore laughed some more, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She’d been thoroughly annoyed when Bianca left, but maybe it was for the best. After all, now she had a chance to hang out with Alaska, Tati and her friends, and avoid the tense adult drama altogether.
“Thanks.” Tati smiled, then lowered her eyes, biting her lip.
“You okay, babe?”
“Yeah…um…I should probably tell you something.”
“Okay?”
Tati closed her eyes and sighed.
“Wait, what’s wrong?” Adore asked, squeezing her forearm. “You’re freaking me out!”
“I’m sorry. It’s probably not that big a deal, just…so, when we were backstage, Pearl was walking around. Taking pictures and shit.”
“Oh. Right.” Adore was trying not to think about her ex, wandering around the party, though of course she knew she was there. Maybe someday it would be possible to be in the same room as Pearl and ignore her presence entirely, but unfortunately, Adore hadn’t reached that stage just yet.
“Anyway…” Tati played with the cuffs of Adore’s jacket, biting her lip. “She clearly didn’t recognize me. Or like, remember that we’d hung out like ten times while y’all were dating, because…um…”
“She hit on you, didn’t she?” Adore asked. She could see how clearly uncomfortable Tati was, and wanted to end her suffering as quickly as possible.
“Yeah. But I told her to fuck off! I mean, I didn’t quite say ‘fuck off,’ cause I was like, not trying to get fired, but she got the message loud and-”
Adore wrapped her arms around Tati and pulled her in for the biggest, warmest hug.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too! You’re not mad, are you?” Tati asked, face tucked into her neck.
“At you? Of fucking course not!” Adore pulled back, taking both of Tati’s hands in hers. “But…I mean, thank you, for being loyal and shit. But…do you like her?”
“No! After how she treated you? I think she’s an asshole,” Tati said.
Adore grinned and nodded, squeezing her hands. In spite of feeling absolutely self-righteous about it at the time, Adore had been feeling some creeping guilt about the way she’d handled things with Dahlia. Maybe the situation wasn’t as black and white as she’d first assumed. Especially after her recent conversations with Aja, and getting back into band practice.
“Okay,” she said. “But…I mean, we’ve both moved on, obviously, so…if you did like her-”
“Bitch, she didn’t deserve you, which means she doesn’t deserve me,” Tati said, with a toss of her long, dark hair.
Adore laughed, hugging her again.
“I love you, so much.”
“You said that already.”
“I know. But I really do.”
“Same,” Tati replied, lashes fluttering.
“Uhh…hi? Am I interrupting something?” asked a voice, and Adore turned to see Alaska, looking a bit awkward, albeit fabulous, in a leopard-print pencil skirt and cropped black cardigan with turquoise trim, appletini in her hand.
“Lasky!” Adore broke away from Tatianna and threw her arms around Alaska, exclaiming, “Everyone looked amazing, omigod! Where have you been?!”
“Hi, thanks! Uh, long story, one of the freelance artists had an issue, but everything’s fine now. Are you guys, um…” her eyes darted back and forth between Adore and Tati.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re good. Just having a bestie moment. Obviously you know Tati. You’re the one responsible for her face looking like fucking perfection.”
“Me and some stunning genetics, yup. Hello, Tatianna,” Alaska held out a hand for a strangely formal handshake. “Incredible work on the runway today.”
“Hi again,” Tati said, “Thanks.”
“So…I guess your sister’s not here?” Alaska asked.
“Don’t get me started,” Adore said, rolling her eyes.
“Right. Well, please tell her I said hi. I was looking forward to chatting about the makeup shoot.”
“Sure.”
Alaska took a sip of her drink, arm wrapped around Adore’s waist. After a beat, Tati and Adore exchanged a look. The energy was slightly weird, but Adore couldn’t exactly put her finger on why. Luckily, before she could worry too much, Bimini and Symone returned with the next round and soon everyone was chatting, the awkwardness forgotten.
***
“Hey, stranger…”
Karl turned to see Detox, his hair a cool, wintery blue that matched his sport coat, a wicked smirk on his face. He’d meant to say hi to him before the show, but had gotten stuck in traffic and only arrived with moments to spare, sliding into his seat just in the nick of time, his heart pounding at the thought of incurring Fame’s infamous wrath.
“Hi!” Karl pulled Detox in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “Why do you look like the cat that swallowed the canary? Got some big scoop?”
“Well, sort of, but unfortunately, not one I can use,” he said.
“Why not?”
“The girls are still fighting,” Detox said pointedly, raising his blue brows and shaking his head.
“Ugh, that again?” Karl rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, Bianca shot out of here like a bat out of hell, the second the show was over. Made some sorry excuse about another commitment.”
“It’s been literal months,” Karl said, “Don’t they have anything more interesting to worry about?”
“Why don’t you ask Fame?” Detox suggested, nodding towards the woman of the hour, who was striding towards them, her cream-colored cape billowing behind her, a beautiful woman in pale pink at her side. Detox sipped his drink, giving Karl another gleeful sideways glance. A dare.
Well, two could play that game. Karl pursed his lips and cocked his head, asking, “Why don’t you, tough guy?”
Detox blinked, and then his smirk grew slightly as he turned towards the women.
“Fame!”
Fame stopped and turned to them, her typically placid hostess smile on her face.
“Hello my darlings. How are you? Did you enjoy the show?” She walked forward, giving each of them air kisses.
“It was divine as always,” Karl cooed, happy to hang Detox out to dry on this one.
“Yes, wonderful,” Detox said. “And-”
“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Karl Westerberg, Elite London.” Karl reached out to the young woman beside Fame, offering his hand, as Detox rolled his eyes, annoyed at the interruption.
“Hi. Shea Coulee. I’m a journalist, doing a profile of Miss Fame for Vogue.”
“Vogue, did you say?” Karl raised an eyebrow, just slightly. That certainly was interesting. “Fabulous.”
“Speaking of Vogue,” Detox cut in. “I noticed a certain someone seemed in an awful hurry to get out of here after the show.”
“If you mean Ms. Wintour, she’s right over there,” Shea said, gesturing to the other side of the party, where Anna Wintour was talking to Grace Coddington and Vanessa Van Cartier.
“No, I didn’t mean Anna. I meant…another Editor-in-Chief we all know…” Detox said, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “And I was just wondering if you had any opinions, thoughts…feelings to share about that?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Fame said. “And I’m also sure that if you keep gossiping about things in this manner, that I have a way to kill you that won’t ever be traced back to me.”
Fame smiled at him, the icy one with daggers in her eyes she reserved for special times.
“You do realize that you just threatened homicide in front of a witness and a journalist, right?” Detox asked, eyes wide with feigned shock.
“Doesn’t that tell you how absolutely sure I am that I won’t even be a suspect?” Fame asked, that smile back that should have terrified Detox more than it apparently did. It certainly terrified Karl. “Besides, Karl didn’t hear anything, did you Karl?”
“Hear anything about what?” Karl asked quickly, playing along.
“Traitor!” Detox muttered.
“I assume this conversation is off the record?” asked Shea.
“Well,” Fame twirled the stem of her champagne glass, looking Detox up and down slowly. “Is Detox important enough that it matters?”
Shea smirked, catching on perfectly, mimicking her supercilious gaze before saying, “Probably not.”
“Good,” Fame answered.
Detox opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out.
Fame patted him on the shoulder, smoothing down his lapel with a victorious smirk.
“Bye, boys. Behave,” she said, turning on her heel and sashaying off, Shea right at her side.
***
Bob technically wasn’t supposed to have a tray, but all it took was a little of his signature charm, some flirting with one of the servers, and bam! Now he had nearly 20 shots he could easily carry back to his table. On the way, he spotted little Violet, who looked like she’d had a few herself, all alone.
“Violet!” he called, grinning.
“Oh, hi!” she looked up and smiled back. She was wearing a black dress with long sleeves and a high neck, the outfit screaming unimportant assistant.
As he approached, he made sure the shots were balanced before slinging an arm around her. It was nice that Upstairs let them attend these parties in the first place. Bob sure wasn’t gonna be the one to give them a reason to stop.
“Hey girl! What are you doing all by yourself? Where’s Sutan?”
“Working-“
“Boring!” Bob groaned and Violet giggled, a smile of her lips as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear.
“Actually, I was just talking to-“
“Is it work related?”
“… Yes?”
“Then I don’t want to hear it tonight.” Bob looped his arm with Violet’s. “Come celebrate with us! Everyone wants to toast to you and that finale dress! You fucking slayed the house down!”
Violet laughed and rolled her eyes, following him to the table where some of the other designers were waiting, along with a few friends.
Kade, especially, seemed thrilled to see her, squealing and throwing his arms around her, then immediately pressing a shot into her hand. Several rounds later, Sutan finally showed up, looking a bit frazzled and worried, but recovering nicely as soon as he saw that his girlfriend was all in one piece, safe and emotionally sound.
“Sutan!” Violet gave an uncharacteristic yelp of delight, throwing her arms around Sutan’s neck and placing sweet kisses all over his face, Sutan laughing at the unexpected shower of pecks.
“Heyyy, it’s the boyfriend of the year!” Bob said, looking up at him with a grin as Sutan pulled away from Violet, carefully unpeeling her.
“Hi, Bob,” Sutan smiled. “Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise.” Bob nudged Maxwell on the shoulder, knowing his boyfriend’s little crush was something that gave him endless embarrassment. “Maxwell, say hi to Sutan.”
“Stop it,” Maxwell hissed, then said, “Hi Sutan. Thank you for, um…the models.”
He cringed, and Bob patted him on the back.
“I hope they were well-behaved. Especially the new ones,” Sutan said.
“Oh, oh yeah, they did a great job,” Maxwell said.
“There ya go, that wasn’t so hard,” Bob whispered.
“I hate you,” Maxwell said under his breath, through gritted teeth, the smile still plastered over his face. He focused back on Sutan, offering, “Would you like to have a seat?”
“Oh, that’s alright, I’m just here to check up on Violet,” he said, passing her a drink.
“Are we leaving yet?” Violet asked, confused.
“No, no. I still have laps to make. You just stay with your friends. I simply wanted to make sure you were alright and still here. I’d hate to have to sacrifice another set of shoes later.”
Violet’s eyes bulged open. “Sutan!”
“What?” Kade asked, confused. “Shoes? What’s he talking about?”
Bob perked up, deeply interested. What could have made her react so strongly? This sounded like a story he had to hear.
“Nothing! He’s talking about nothing!” Violet said, shooting a death glare up at him making Sutan laugh.
Bob smiled to himself, lifting another shot to his lips. He’d keep that one under his hat for now; he could always grill Ms. Chachki later, maybe trade it for something once she was back in design.
Kade leaned forward, resting his chin on his knee, gazing up at Sutan. “Has anyone ever told you that you have real Daddy energy?” he asked, lashes fluttering.
Maxell immediately turned as red as a beet and elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“OW!” Kade shrieked. “What?! He does!”
“Thank you, Kade,” Sutan laughed, “I think?”
“You’re welcome,” Kade said, leaning back, a smug grin on his face. He stuck his tongue out at Maxwell for good measure.
Maxwell turned to Bob with a scowl, muttering, “Next time you bring him, don’t forget the shock collar.”
“Have another drink, Cracks,” Bob said, handing over a shot.
“Um…” Violet looked up at Sutan, blinking slowly. “I actually think I have…had one or two more than I…um…”
“Are you saying you want to take off?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” Violet said. She extended her arm and let Sutan pull her up into a standing position.
The guys called out their farewells, with Kade sure to sneak in a “Bye Daddy!” before diving into Bob’s lap for protection from Maxwell.
***
“Mmh,” Raja hummed against Raven’s lips, the two of them kissing. She knew it was the Galactica party, and that she should mingle as much as possible, but Raven was just utterly irresistible tonight.
There was nothing sexier than a Raven who glowed with confidence, who oozed the knowledge that she was hot, that knew she had done a good job, and few things boosted Raven as much as a fashion show gone well.
Raja moved, pressing Raven against the wall, holding her by the waist and kissing her neck, the scent of perfume filling her nose.
“Raj-” Raven moaned, cutting herself off, nudging her with her face. “Raja. My hair.”
Raja looked down, a strand of Raven’s hair caught in her watch, black and silver tangled together.
“Fuck.” Raja moved, which made Raven wince, a laugh escaping both of them as Raven grabbed her wrist and carefully freed her hair.
“Sorry.” Raja wrinkled her nose, settling her hands on Raven’s hips, giving her a squeeze as she leaned in to kiss her again, when Raven suddenly pulled away.
“Violet!” Raven waved, her boobs pressing against Raja’s chest, her fiancée practically crawling over her shoulder. “Over here!”
Raja turned her head, watching as Sutan and Violet came towards them, her brother smiling and waving back. Violet was clinging to his arm, leaning on his shoulder, and Raja couldn’t help the stab of annoyance at the sight, Violet practically acting like she owned him.
They all greeted each other, Raven grabbing Violet and hugging her tightly as Sutan pressed a kiss against Raja’s cheek, his low rumble switching to Indonesian.
[Congratulations] Sutan pulled back slightly, [on another job beautifully done.] He grinned, his eyes sparkling, delight dancing in his expression. [You up to split a cab?]
[Not sure I should leave yet. It’s sort of my company.]
[Oh yeah, and you’re doing so much networking over here], Sutan chuckled, wiping a bit of Raven’s lipstick off of the corner of her mouth.
“Touché,” Raja smirked, allowing her brother to touch her. [Okay, let’s go home.]
“Ooh! I know that word!” Raven perked up, making both Raja and Sutan laugh. “We’re leaving, right?”
“I’m glad to see your language studies are finally picking up, Raven.” Sutan smiled. “It took what? Five years?”
“And for that…“ Raven reached out, taking Sutan’s tie between her fingers, “you can come get the jackets with me.”
Raja hadn’t expected Raven to volunteer, such a menial task something she usually let others do for her, her fiancée the exact spoiled brat Raja herself had created.
She watched her walk away, but then, Raven glanced over her shoulder, a smoldering look in her eyes, a swing in her hips, and Raja realized that it was a tease just for her, leaving her behind with nothing for company but the throb of her clit.
That, and Violet, of course.
Violet was leaning against the wall, apparently completely content not to speak, her normally shrewd eyes wandering listlessly over the crowd, head lolling back. She definitely wasn’t her typical put-together self. Too many drinks from the open bar after a day of running around on an empty stomach, she suspected.
Raja didn’t think she hated Violet, but she didn’t have anything to say to her that wasn’t about work.
Unless…
The Galactica party was - obviously - filled with beautiful women, and Raja was struck with an idea. She quickly swept the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, that stood out from the rest. This would be the perfect time to get her uncensored opinions.
She tried to remember which model Violet had been enamored with during the casting—unfortunately, she was so annoyed in that moment that she forgot to make note of the girl, but she did seem to remember that it wasn’t one of the waif-y stick-thin ones, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t a white girl, either.
She spotted someone just right, heading towards the bar. One of their influencers, a sexy Filipino girl with an ass to die for (especially in the thigh-high Louboutins she had on), her long, glossy curls bouncing as she walked.
“What do you think of her?” Raja nudged Violet’s arm, pointing out the young woman with a subtle nod of her head.
“Marina Summers?”
Raja smirked, not really surprised that Violet knew the name of everyone at the party, even in this state. She was Fame’s assistant after all, so she had probably pored over the guest list, making sure to memorize it all, in case Fame needed it.
“Yes, her. Cute outfit, right?”
“Mmm. I like her handbag. Very on trend right now,” she said, a slight slur in her voice.
Raja rolled her eyes. Marina was wearing a low-cut, backless mini-dress that barely covered her ass, but of course her handbag was what Violet commented on. Raja decided to try again, gesturing to a stunning girl with rich, dark skin, an hourglass figure, and a fur coat hanging off her shoulders. All she wanted was for Violet to drunkenly comment on her body, her tits, something she could use.
“What about her? Isn’t she pretty?”
Violet turned to Raja with a puzzled expression, blinking slowly. “Are you trying to find someone for a campaign?”
Raja cringed inwardly, realizing what a nightmare it would be for her if Violet repeated their conversation back to Raven. She was disappointed that her plan had failed, but better that than to get in trouble.
“Yeah. We’re…well, I had an idea to maybe bring some more faces on board for this year’s resort collection. Not just models, but maybe some people with real followings,” she said, covering quickly, adding, “I haven’t talked to Pearl or Alyssa though, what do you think?”
“Oh, uhh…that’s not really my area.”
“Fair enough.” Raja sighed, noting with some relief that Sutan and Raven were heading back their way. “Looks like you’re off the hook.”
***
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Pearl said, winking.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the older woman purred, vodka oozing from her pores as she leaned in to press her lips to Pearl’s cheek.
Pearl knew that working the room was an important part of her job. (Especially her current company, a brand manager who had been giving them free liquor and bartenders at every party for the past three years in exchange for a rather modest company credit on Galactica’s website.)
However, she’d been at it all evening, and it was starting to get a bit tiresome. Even professional schmoozers needed a break once in awhile. So as soon as she’d extricated herself from the woman’s clutches, she took a deep breath and looked around for a friendly face, maybe a coworker with whom she could chill for a few minutes, just to catch her breath. Luckily, a couple of designers were nearby. And to Pearl’s delight, she noticed that April was among them.
She wondered why she’d never paid much attention to April previously. After all, she was definitely hot, and talented, and if their conversation earlier was any indication, she liked to play. Pearl fixed her face into a sad expression and approached the designers, looking as dejected as possible.
“Good lord, Pearl!” Blu exclaimed. “Are you alright?”
Pearl heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yeah…”
“Oh my god…” April muttered, shaking her head.
“What’s wrong?” Gia asked.
“I just, um…have been having a rough…” Pearl sighed again.
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” April said. She laughed and took a sip of her drink.
“April!” Blu admonished.
“Guys, she’s full of-”
“I thought you said that you’d talk to me about…nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you…” Pearl hung her head and turned slowly, taking a few steps away from the table.
“Pearl! Don’t go!” Gia cried. “April, what’s wrong with you?!”
“Ay dios mio…”
April hurried to catch up with her, just like Pearl hoped she would, grabbing her arm.
“Would you knock it off?” she hissed into her ear.
Pearl turned to her with a mischievous smirk. “Knock what off?”
“You are some piece of work.” April rolled her eyes.
“You love it.”
“I need another drink if I’m gonna hang out with you.”
“So, you do want to hang out with me, then,” Pearl said triumphantly.
April scowled at her, but then a smile began to crack through, and she turned on her heel, marching towards the bar. Pearl followed, checking out her pert little ass in the process. Very nice.
“Hey, can we get two double shots of Don Q rum?” April asked the bartender.
“You tryin’ to get me drunk?” Pearl asked, flashing a grin at her as she slid in beside her.
“I’m trying to make the experience of being with you more enjoyable,” April replied.
“Wow. A dagger, straight to the heart.”
April laughed, taking the shots from the bartender with a nod and shoving one towards Pearl, letting their fingers touch briefly. She bit her lip, looking at Pearl in the eyes, raising her glass. Pearl lifted hers as well.
“Salud,” Pearl said.
“Salud,” April replied, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth before tossing back most of the rum in one gulp.
A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). Hello everyone! This is chapter 100. 1-0-0! That's absolutely insane, and we're so thankful you as a reader is still here. Thank you for reading along, and for enjoying the story Veronica and I have written. We hope you'll continue to love reading it as much as we love writing it. 💫
Previously: Raven ran her mouth about how much she hates Courtney—at a Marie Claire photo shoot where Bianca happened to overhear the worst of it.
This Chapter: Bianca makes good on her threat. Shit hits the fan. The usual.
***
“Get off. My set.” Bianca’s voice was low, probably would have been very scary and intimidating to anyone else.
But Raven wasn’t some fresh-faced ingenue, and the idea of actually being kicked off a set was laughable. Especially considering that Courtney was still well out of earshot, chattering with her model friend on the other side of the studio. “Very funny, Bibi.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” she turned to the tiny PA from earlier, saying. “Go get her things. Now.”
The girl took a few steps backward, then turned and practically ran towards the greenroom.
“Look, if it bothers you that much, I’ll stop talking about your precious little darling. Didn’t think you were so thin-skinned, or one for censorship, but…”
Bianca narrowed her eyes, walked away a few paces, and whipped out her phone.
“What are you doing?” Raven asked. Amy had stepped back, and the hair person had also stopped working. Raven looked at both of them crossly, ordering, “Well, keep going.”
Amy swallowed, frozen, and Raven let out a scoff of disbelief. Did they actually think Bianca was serious?
“Hi, Jonathan, it’s Bianca,” Bianca said into the phone. “We’re in the middle of the makeup editorial and I just had to fire someone. Can you have another girl here within 40 minutes? The brunette we considered, with the- Yes, exactly. Wonderful.”
Raven groaned, an unsettled feeling growing in her stomach, but she refused to believe this was anything other than Bianca being dramatic. Regardless, it was getting embarrassing. Alyssa Edwards had caught wind of the situation and now seemed to be watching it all unfold while sipping her Red Bull.
“Bianca, stop it. I’m sorry I insulted your little bimbo, alright? But-”
Bianca let out an incredulous noise, turning on her heel, towards the PA who hurried over, her arms full of Raven’s coat and weekender bag, the items making her seem even smaller.
“Thank you, Emily. Can you please make sure that Ms. Petruschin gets into a town car safely?”
“Um…” the girl nodded, terrified.
“Bianca!” Raven snapped, now thoroughly irritated. “This is my career!”
Bianca turned slowly and stepped back up to Raven, her voice still low, and said, “If I were you, I would leave now, quietly, without saying another fucking word.”
Raven’s stomach dropped, realizing how real this situation was, how utterly humiliating. She stood up, carefully avoiding the many pairs of eyes on her, took her coat and bag, and stormed from the studio.
*
“What was that?!” Tati exclaimed, as she and Courtney watched Raven marching from the room.
“I…I don’t know,” Courtney answered.
Bianca was in a huddle with Alaska, Alyssa and the photographer, and most of the crew looked a little shell-shocked, moving at about half the speed they were before. The models, especially Tati’s roommates, looked terrified. What had happened?
“I’m gonna go find out! But you…you look so great, and I know your meeting is gonna be awesome.” Tati leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“You too! Break a leg today, you look incredible!” Courtney exclaimed.
“Look at us, living the dream!” Tati giggled, and Courtney squeezed her hands, letting out a little squeal. “Bye, babe, knock ‘em dead.”
“Thanks.” Courtney let go of Tati’s hands and then cautiously approached the monitor where Bianca stood. She hung back, not wanting to interrupt.
“As long as you’re taking the heat,” Alyssa was saying, “Since I value my job.”
“Of course I will,” Bianca replied. “Don’t worry about that.”
“Well, we’re gonna worry. That’s Raja’s fiancée!” Alaska said, brow furrowed. “Not to mention that she’s been the face of the company for so many-”
“I know, I know,” Bianca said. “Look, guys, I promise that they won’t blame either one of you, okay? This is a Marie Claire shoot, it was my call. And we’ll have another girl here soon. Are you good to start with some of the smaller set-ups first?” Bianca asked, turning to the photographer.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied. “Schedule is fine, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, okay then!” Bianca slapped her hands together. “Let’s just all move on, okay? Pretend this shit never happened.”
Alyssa nodded. “But…who’s gonna tell-”
“I’ll go call Sutan, okay? Let him break the news to Raja.”
“You’re evil!” Alaska exclaimed.
“No, she’s smart. He’s the one person Raja won’t kill,” Alyssa said.
“Exactly.” Bianca winked and then broke away from the group, her grin growing when she saw Courtney. “Hi, angel. Did you get a chance to talk to Tatianna?”
“Um, yeah. What was that all about, though? Did you-”
“Don’t worry about it.” Bianca pressed a kiss to her upturned cheek. “Come on, let’s grab a cup of coffee before you have to go.”
“Okay, but did it-”
“She was being a cunt. End of story. I know it might be hard to imagine, but…”
Courtney let out a dry chuckle as Bianca rolled her eyes.
“But it’s over now,” Bianca continued.
Courtney still had questions, but it seemed like it would be better to put everything out of her mind, at least until her meeting was over.
“Okay.”
***
Raven practically slammed Sutan’s door open, her ears ringing as she stormed into his office.
“Sutan!” The entire ride over, Raven’s stomach had been a volcano about to erupt, anger whirling around her body, “We are NOT going to take-”
She was cut off as Sutan held up a hand, Raven noticing for the first time that he was on the phone, holding it between his shoulder and ear. He was only half visible, sitting on the fire escape, a lit cigarette in his other hand.
“And then what? No, no Gigi, I promise you’re not in trouble. Thank you for telling me…Yes. Yes. Good…Yes we can talk tomorrow…Thanks again. You did exactly what you were supposed to today…Right. Goodbye.” Sutan hung up, putting out his cigarette and stuffing his phone in his pocket as he crawled back in through the window. “Fuck, Raven, I swear to god-”
"Tan, I wasn't doing anything wrong!” Raven dumped her handbag on Sutan’s desk, “Just chatting about her prosti-tot girlfriend-"
"I’m going to stop you right there,” Sutan crossed his arms, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “What exactly did you think I meant when I explicitly told you to be on your best behavior today?"
"But she was wearing sequins in the daytime-"
"I don't give a fuck what she was wearing!” he bellowed. “This isn't about her!”
Raven shrank, Sutan never ever raising his voice, especially not at her. Raven knew she was whining, she just couldn’t help it. Sure, Sutan had told her not to rock the boat, but everything was so extremely unfair.
“This is about the fact that Bianca was your boss today, and you pissed her off, and that's totally unacceptable!"
“Sutan, this whole thing is ridiculous, you need to-”
“I need to?” Sutan cut her off, his eyes narrowed, his tone icy cold. “Oh no. You’re the one who needs to. Sit down,” He snapped, pointing at a chair, “right now, so I can explain the very basics of how a modeling agency works, because you, my dear, have obviously forgotten.”
“But-” Raven swallowed, only just realizing that she had sat down when Sutan had told her to, her body acting on its own. “You can’t take her side over mine!”
“Her side? Your side? I don’t care about your petty argument,” Sutan sat down at the edge of his desk, his legs practically touching Raven’s knees, the man towering over her. “I’m taking my side, I’m taking Elite’s side. You know why?”
Raven didn’t do anything, couldn’t do anything, a lump in her throat.
“Because that side is the people who employ you, who get you work, who make sure both of us have an income. Do you know how big of a commission you lost Elite today? ”
“Bianca should still pay-” Raven protested, hurt and anger crashing together in her chest, not a trace of her friend or even her soon to be brother-in-law in front of her, Sutan a company man through and through.
“She’s not going to, and I’m not going to fight her. This is Marie Claire we’re talking about Raven, one of the biggest magazines in America, and in the world. Do you have any idea how much money they spend on Elite girls a year? The only reason we’re not in unfathomable shit right now, is that Bianca thankfully has enough respect for me,” Sutan tapped his own chest, “not to run her mouth.”
“This isn’t fair-”
“Fair? You think this is about fair? You’re not a child, hell you’re not even a teen. You’re turning 29 in a few months, which means you’re almost 30. Do you know why anyone books models pushing 30?”
Raven pressed her lips together as Sutan continued to rant at her.
“Let me tell you. It’s because of recognition,” Sutan counted on his fingers, “reputation, a good work relationship, respect, professionalism, and what you did today was beyond unprofessional. I don’t care how you feel about Courtney, I don’t care what goes on in your personal life! When you’re at work, you’re at work, and if word about this behavior gets out, I’d say you can wave goodbye to editorial work and especially to commercial work.”
Raven swallowed, her stomach hurting. What Sutan was saying couldn’t be true, though he never lied to her.
“Do you know what happens if work dries up?”
“Yes,” Raven felt like a child, felt like she was lower than low.
“If this ever, and I mean ever, happens again, you’re done.”
“What?” Raven’s eyes widened. “You can’t say that, I still have a great-”
“A great what? Reputation? Work record? You have a fair record Raven. You’re petulant, you’re moody and you’re spoiled, hell, I’ve spoiled you.” Sutan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Usually, it’s not a problem, because you’re also a good fucking model who knows her shit and delivers results, but you’re not a kid anymore. If I wanted to, I could find someone younger, easier and cheaper to take any spot you have in five minutes. Just like Jonathan did. The girl he sent to replace you? Barely 20 years old. Do you understand that? You’re replaceable.”
“Yes,” Raven swallowed, holding back tears.
“Modeling,” Sutan explained, his voice taking on a patronizing tone as his initial anger faded, “is not like other professions. Your value doesn’t increase with age and experience. You hit a peak, and then it’s downhill. Do you think you’ve hit that peak?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“I guess we’ll see. But if I were you,” Sutan stood up, walking around his desk. “I’d spend some serious time considering my next career move.”
“What?” Raven felt her jaw drop, her eyes betraying her as she felt tears run down her cheeks, destroying her makeup.
“I’ll talk to Bianca again. Make sure she’s holding tight.” Sutan sat down at his desk, sighing heavily. “You can go, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Right.” Raven got up, all the fire completely gone.
“Oh, and Raven?”
“Mmh?” Raven turned around, to see Sutan holding her bag out to her, two fingers on the strap.
“Don’t start another handbag line. There’s enough of those already.”
***
“Miss Fame’s office,” Nicky announced, clicking on her headset.
“Yeah. Hi. Is Raja there? Ivy said she’s there,” said a man.
“Who’s calling?”
“Sutan. Sutan Amrull. I need to talk to her.”
Nicky knew that Sutan was on the approved list, but Miss Fame had been very clear about having zero interruptions during their meeting, as they finalized the running order for next week’s show.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Amrull, but Raja is with Miss Fame in a closed-door meeting. I can-“ Nicky’s voice was cut off as Violet snatched up the receiver on her own desk, gesturing aggressively for her to hang up.
Nicky stifled her slightly annoyed sigh as she clicked off her headset. For the most part, she was feeling quite confident in her new job, but despite the binders and binders of information she’d basically memorized, there were still always a few mysterious things that Violet refused to fill her in on—sometimes out of what seemed like a misguided need to protect her. Other times it was just because she was a vault, ‘none of your business’ apparently one of Violet’s mottos in life.
Nicky supposed that once Violet returned to design, she’d learn these things on her own.
She watched Violet curiously, trying to glean what little she could from her end of the conversation.
“Sutan? Yes. Yes it’s me. What’s wrong?” Violet asked, and Nicky cocked her head, unable to hide her surprise.
One thing she’d learned very quickly was how incredibly formal Violet was—a lot of “yes ma’am” and “no sir,” and addressing everyone as Mr. So and So or Ms. Whatever. At Tory Burch, she’d been instructed to call everyone by their first names unless requested otherwise, but at Galactica, or specifically Miss Fame’s office, it seemed that business formal was the law of the land. So hearing Violet speak so casually, her tone so familiar, with this senior agent from Elite, was very strange indeed.
“They’re in a meeting, but-” Violet had switched to her own headset and was now pacing around the office. “If you’re aware, then why-” Violet bit her lip, stopping in her tracks. “Shit.”
Nicky’s eyes widened. What on earth was going on today?
Violet looked at Miss Fame’s closed door. “Yeah. Yeah. I can interrupt, but- Okay. Just make sure I look pretty at the funeral,” she said, ending the call with a dry, joyless chuckle, adding, “I will.”
She put the line on hold and then pulled off her headset, taking a deep breath.
“Violet, what-” Nicky stopped talking immediately when Violet flashed her a dangerous look, pressing her lips together.
Violet turned back to the door, swallowed, and then stepped up to knock.
*
“I guess I’m just not sure if I enjoy this,” Fame sighed, leaning back on the couch, resting her head on her hand, her elbow digging into the armrest. The printed photo in her hands was one of many from the styling session Raja had all day yesterday at the showroom. She dropped it in her lap with a sigh.
They had decided to pull them out to take a break from finalizing the model placements, but it hadn’t been the mood lifter Fame had hoped for.
“The way they’re using the belt, it’s-“
“Fame,” Raja cut her off gently. They had been at it for a while, the other woman right next to her on the couch. She was wearing a blue suit, her hair in a high braid, golden bangles on her wrists. “You have to accept that celebrities have their own style.”
“These aren’t celebrities,” Fame grumbled. She knew Raja had done an amazing job, working with a curated selection of influencers, models and other industry people to make sure that the Galactica brand would be well represented on the street style level too. “All I’m saying is-“
Fame was cut off, as a succession of quick knocks hit the door, Violet not even giving her time to respond before she had opened it and stepped inside Fame’s office.
“Violet!” Fame huffed. “What on earth are you doing? You know better than to interrupt-“
“I have Sutan on Line 1-” Violet gestured to the guest phone, the yellow light blinking, but Fame barely gave it a glance before turning back to Violet, annoyed.
“Well, tell him I’ll call back when I’m finished,” Fame snapped, wondering why, after all this time, she needed to give Violet a lecture on boundaries. A “closed-door meeting” meant a closed-door meeting, even if she was dating the man who had called.
“He’s on for Raja.”
“What?” Raja sat up straight, her eyes widening, and Fame’s annoyance immediately disappeared. Raja dove into her bag, pulling it up from underneath the table and rummaging around for her cell. When she pulled it out, Fame’s heart sank as she saw several missed calls from Sutan.
“Fuck!” Raja shot off the couch, nearly knocking into the coffee table to snatch up the receiver from the guest phone, Fame’s heart in her throat. The last time Sutan had been this insistent in reaching his sister right away, their mom had suffered a heat stroke while playing badminton at her local club.
The twins tried to play it off, tried to pretend that they were okay, but their father’s death had left open wounds in both of them, Raja still clearly blaming herself for the fact that they had been abroad when he collapsed the first time.
Raja pressed the phone to her ear, instantly launching off in Indonesian, Fame barely even noticing how Violet had already left the office and shut the door behind her, giving them the illusion of privacy.
“Is everything-“ Fame was on the edge of her seat, but Raja simply held her hand up, looking so much like her brother as she listened to him on the phone, her eyes closed.
Fame saw it happen, Raja’s shoulder sagging, a huge sigh of relief leaving her as she turned to Fame. “She’s okay.”
“Oh thank god,” Fame put her hands together in a praying position, thanking the universe that Murni was okay. “Then why-”
“Right,” Raja returned to the phone, and switched back to Indonesian, Fame biting back a smile as she caught words like ‘fuck,’ Raja clearly annoyed with her brother. Fame had almost turned her attention back to the photos, when she heard Raven’s name mentioned, Raja’s eyes widening. “Bianca what?!”
“What?” Fame sat up straight, even contemplating getting up from the couch. “Raja, what-”
“That fucking cow!” Raja groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m gonna-fine, what? Tell me exactly what happened!” Raja was practically making a hole in the carpet, walking in a tight circle, and Fame had to sit on her hands, watching her friend’s face as she talked to her brother, Raja switching between anger, annoyance, and even embarrassment for a brief second, something almost like sorrow settling on her features.
Fame heard her name, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Raja-” Fame got up, walking over. She never usually minded when the twins flip flopped between Indonesian and English, but right now it was setting her nerves on fire. “Please-”
“Yes, yes, yes, I love you too.” Raja hung up, a deep sigh leaving her.
Fame reached out, tugging on Raja’s elbow, her fingers digging into the material of her suit. “What happened?”
“Bianca fired Raven today, from the makeup editorial.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. Apparently she overheard Raven talking some shit about Courtney.”
Fame opened her mouth, her head shaking in disbelief, before saying, “So once again, she’s prioritizing that little bimbo over us. All of us.” She couldn’t believe how close she’d been to caving, to reaching out, after talking to Juju. Well, not after this.
“Seems that way, yeah,” Raja sighed.
“What are you gonna do? Or say? I assume something, right?”
“Well…Tan made me promise not to.”
“Why?! He’s not taking her side, is he? Because-”
“No no no no, nothing like that. He’s just being pragmatic, you know.” Raja rolled her eyes. “Elite gets a lot of business from Marie Claire, blah blah blah.”
“Right.” Fame folded her hands, muttering, “What a bitch.”
“Tell me about it!” Raja grumbled.
***
“Alright, so,” Latrice put her latte down at the little cafe table and sat down, Courtney perching on a chair across from her with a green smoothie that looked absolutely horrible, but maybe explained why she was about 4 pounds soaking wet. “I think that went well. How do you feel?”
Courtney gazed at her with that heart-eyed expression that she’d seen in too many young performers over the years, who were sadly unused to having someone in their corner, advocating for them.
“You’re amazing,” she breathed.
“I know, I know,” Latrice said with a laugh.
“Um…” Courtney bit her lip, clearing her throat. She picked off a tiny piece of muffin, but then dropped it to the plate instead of eating it.
“Are you alright? What’s on your mind?” Latrice asked. She was an intuitive person, but even a complete idiot would be able to see that Courtney was worried about something.
“It’s just that…I think…I mean, do you think you’d be willing to work with me long term?” she asked softly.
They’d made an agreement when they first spoke, that Latrice would negotiate Courtney’s contract with Island Records for a flat fee. She already had a pretty full roster, and didn’t like to offer anything she couldn’t deliver at 110%. More importantly, she didn’t know anything about Courtney’s potential. She’d heard a few snippets from her demo, but she’d never seen her on stage.
On the other hand, she’d been extremely impressed with what she had seen. The kid was obviously smart—the questions she asked about her contract had been insightful and savvy (especially considering her lack of experience), and Olivia had only good things to say about her.
Plus, from a purely cynical business perspective…her face alone could take her pretty far, even if she ended up being a lost cause in the recording world.
“Well…I’ve never seen you perform,” Latrice told her, “So that makes it a little hard to commit to developing your career-”
“Right, of course,” Courtney said, blush creeping into her cheeks. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot, I just-”
“But,” she continued, and Courtney’s mouth immediately snapped closed. “I do like you, which is half the battle. So why don’t you tell me more about what you want to do. What are your professional goals? In a perfect world, what would your career look like?”
“Well…” Courtney took a deep breath, a dreamy smile on her face, “Recording this album is a dream come true. I’d really like to become a true pop star, you know? Like, full tours with dancers and sets and true production value. But I also think it would be great to act, like Broadway or even on screen, like it would be so fun to work in Hollywood. And maybe writing or producing my own material? Or directing? I think I’d be good at doing interviews too, kind of like Oprah-esque, and I love the way her career looks, with the whole book club thing, I would love something like that. Also I definitely want to stand up for social justice issues, so I want to make sure my career has an activism side, and that I’m involved in philanthropy-”
“Alright, alright,” Latrice cut her off with a chuckle. “You want to do everything. I get it. Good thing you’re young.”
Courtney giggled, offering a cute little shrug. “You said a perfect world.”
“I did, that’s true. Glad you have such a big imagination.” Latrice smiled. “Listen, I may not be ready to turn you into the next Lady Gaga slash Barbra Streisand slash Oprah slash Angelina Jolie just yet, but-”
Courtney lowered her eyes slightly, the pink in her cheeks brightening.
“But what would you say to a trial period? Let’s say, six months? And after that, we can re-evaluate and decide if it makes sense to continue working together?”
“Yes!” she cried, nearly jumping out of her chair. “Or…I mean, yes. Thanks.”
“Alright then.” Latrice reached across the table, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. “Welcome to the LRI family.”
“Thank you so much,” Courtney said, beaming.
“Just out of curiosity,” Latrice asked, “have you ever considered reality television?”
Courtney shook her head slowly. “No, not really. But…I’m open to anything!”
***
Bianca sighed. It had been a long-ass fucking day. She was still pretty pissed at Raven, and only grateful that Courtney hadn’t heard her nasty rant. At the same time, she had an ache in the pit of her stomach, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to protect Courtney forever.
Now, the shoot had finally wrapped, and it seemed that, in spite of all the drama, the whole team was happy with the results. She looked through a pile of promo items that Joslyn had laid out on her coffee table, seeing if there was anything that she could bring home to Courtney. She selected a set of Swarovski tennis bracelets, a pair of Gucci cat-eye sunglasses, cute Givenchy ankle boots, some Morphe eyeshadow palettes filled with bright, glittery colors and a set of matching pink brushes.
She was picking up a little Valentino clutch bag in soft aqua leather, trying to decide if she should give it to Courtney straightaway, or first keep it to pair with one of her own Fashion Week looks, when the intercom buzzed.
“Charlie Hides for you,” Joslyn chirped, and Bianca turned to pick up her phone.
“Hi Char, how are you?”
Charlie skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point as usual—one of the things Bianca had always liked the most about her. “Are you aware that your girlfriend’s manager is negotiating against you?”
“What do you mean?” Bianca asked, examining her nails, noting that she needed to squeeze in a manicure before Monday.
“She’s just asked us to double the marketing budget,” Charlie explained.
“Oh. Well…was the marketing budget too low?” Bianca asked.
“I mean, it was…on the lower side of standard,” Charlie said.
Bianca smirked to herself. Good for her, and lucky that she had Latrice in her corner now to catch this stuff. “Sounds like she’s making the right demands to me. Give her what she wants.”
“Uh…okay, boss. Whatever you say. We’ll send a new budget by tomorrow morning.”
“Fabulous, thanks.” Bianca put the purse with the other items she was bringing home for Courtney. She didn’t need it—and besides, this color would bring out her eyes.
***
“I’m honestly so, so glad that Tati didn’t hear Raven talking shit,” Symone said, sorting through her huge mound of laundry to find the last of the dark colors. “She’s so ride or die, she probably would have tried to fight her!”
“Omigod!” Gigi’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat and she pulled out the whites. “You really think so?”
“Totally!” Symone tossed the armful of clothes she’d gathered into the machine with Gigi’s and began to load in the quarters. “Would you have backed her up?”
“Me? Never!” Being in the room during the fight between Raven and Bianca had been absolutely horrible, the entire thing so uncomfortable and cringe. “I was practically under my chair as it was! Sutan calling me was more than enough drama.”
Gigi’s heart had nearly fallen out her butt when she saw Sutan’s name light up on her screen, but thankfully her agent only wanted Gigi to go through what had happened from her perspective. Gigi had told the truth, hadn’t dared to do anything else, but she had felt bad for Raven.
Raven was one of those models that had always been around, that Gigi had seen in magazines and on runways her entire life. She had been so excited to work with her, Raven even prettier in real life, and she had been working up the courage to go say hi, since they were now under the same management and all, when hell had broken loose on set.
“Me too.” Symone laughed, the sound like a soothing balm on her anxious soul. She returned to the table, quickly pulling the whites out, adding them to Gigi’s pile. Gigi hesitated, frowning when she came to a navy and white striped top.
“What do we do about stripes?” Gigi asked, brow furrowed with concern.
“No idea,” Symone giggled, tossing a huge armful of whites into the machine before adding the soap, spilling a little on the floor in the process. “Oops.”
“Shit,” Gigi said. The two of them had discovered only recently that neither of them knew how to do laundry, the piles of dirty clothes in their closet getting dangerously high. But Gigi was tired of shame-buying new underwear, so she was determined to figure it out.
“Do you want to call your mom one more time?”
“Maybe…” Gigi chewed her lip. It had felt childish to FaceTime her mom to ask questions about laundry, but Bimini was no help, since she sent everything to fluff and fold. And she was too embarrassed to ask Tati after her cluelessness in the kitchen, barely able to chop parsley without explicit instructions. Besides that, Gigi wanted to prove herself, had to prove that she wasn’t just some confused kid. “Nah. We can figure it out. We’re grownups.”
“Oh?” Symone inserted the last of the quarters and turned on the machine, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re all grown?”
“Mmhmm,” Gigi replied, a blush rising to her cheeks at the way Symone’s dark eyes stayed locked on hers.
Symone had been so patient…infinitely patient with her so far, but she knew that her girlfriend wanted more, and was overcome with a sudden urge to please her. She moved forward, hooking her fingers into Symone’s belt loops, leaning close enough to smell cocoa butter and Marc Jacobs Daisy perfume, the dizzying combination setting off the butterflies in the abdomen
Symone lifted one of her hands to Gigi’s cheek, touching her softly. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured.
Gigi said nothing, simply pressed a kiss to her lips, letting herself relax into it as it deepened, as Symone’s arms tightened around her shoulders.
It was nice, actually. More than nice. For a few moments, Gigi forgot why she’d been so anxious about this in the first place. But then, Symone took a step forward, pressing her against the washer, and she let out a gasp.
“Are you okay?” Symone asked, stopping immediately.
“Yeah, I just…the machine…it’s…”
“You don’t like it?” Symone asked.
“Well…I didn’t say that,” Gigi admitted. The machine was warm, and Gigi could feel the vibrating movement of it resonating through her body.
Symone laughed, brushing a light kiss against her cheek, and Gigi pulled her closer.
“I mean, I don’t not like it,” Gigi added.
“Well, in that case,” Symone teased, pressing her harder against the vibrating machine and going in for another kiss.
Gigi went with it, her heart hammering in her chest, knowing that they were still basically in a public space, so things couldn’t go too far. She hummed, pulling Symone even closer, trying her best to enjoy the feeling of her gorgeous girlfriend against her.
***
“Sutan?”
Sutan looked up from his desk, and over at Violet who was standing at the door. He never really used his home office, but this whole thing with Raven had moved straight into shitville territory, which meant he needed his entire desk for damage control.
Tamisha had torn him a new one—she’d already been annoyed about Raven refusing to do swimwear and Sutan not making as much money on her as he could, the men’s magazines often their most lucrative clients, so this had apparently been the last straw.
She had chewed him up and spit him out, promising that she’d personally make sure he’d be punished accordingly if they lost Marie Claire.
It was never a good time when the CEO of the company came to yell at you, but at least it had been Tamisha herself, Sutan too senior and valuable for anyone else to tear him into shreds.
They wouldn’t lose Marie Claire, Sutan almost done with his damage control. He had sent Bianca a bottle of her favorite wine to her office as well as her home, and while he hadn’t been able to go over her head, he had reaffirmed Elite’s position with every influential staff member he could, his March calendar stuffed to the brim with cocktail appointments, lunches and coffee dates that he was already dreading.
“Yes, lovely eyes?” Sutan tried to force a smile on his lips, but he was honestly just tired, his back aching from being bent over his computer, his eyes burning behind his glasses.
He still had work left to do, the necessity of his New York Fashion Week schedule being exactly right suddenly extremely important. He needed to shake hands and be seen, preferably photographed, with the correct people, getting that done before rumors that he couldn’t control his girls spread essential to the future of his career.
“I just, I know you’re busy, but-” Violet took a step forward, Sutan only now noticing that she was holding a plate, a piece of chocolate cake on it, a raspberry delicately placed on it in a drop of ganache. “I thought, if you’re staying up-”
“Did you get me dessert?”
He had heard Violet tell him she was going for a walk during dinner, but he had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he hadn’t really registered it.
He suddenly felt bad, only now realizing how much he had ignored Violet that evening. She had texted and asked if he’d like to be alone after he had talked to Raja, but he had told her to come over, the knowledge that he’d get to climb into bed and hold her tight at the end of his shit show day beyond comforting.
“Mmh,” Violet nodded, putting the cake down on his desk. “I know you love chocolate. I wasn’t sure if I could use your machine correctly, so there’s no coffee, but-”
“Violet,” Sutan reached out, putting his arms around Violet’s waist, and pulling her down into his lap, squeezing her tight. “Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Truly.”
***
“Wait, how have you never seen Golden Girls?!” Alaska cried, sitting up in bed. After the drama that morning, not to mention the actual shoot that had taken all day, she was in need of an extremely lazy night in. She’d invited Adore over on a whim, who’d arrived with two pizzas and a pack of Coronas. Now, they were relaxing in bed, chatting, while Alaska aimlessly flipped through the TV. As tired as she was, Alaska was happy to have Adore there—she was a breath of fresh air after such a stressful work day.
“Well…I think I’ve probably seen it. I’ve just never watched it,” Adore explained.
“But why? It’s so good! Like honestly one of the best shows of all time.”
“I’m 24,” Adore offered with a grin. “Where would I have seen it, TV Land?”
Alaska flopped back down onto the pillows with a dramatic groan. “You know, I didn’t think our age difference was gonna be a problem, but now I might-”
She cut herself off with a shallow gasp as Adore’s fingers traveled up her thigh.
“What were you saying?” Adore murmured, hot breath tickling her neck.
“I was…I don’t…I don’t remember…” Alaska said, biting back a whimper as a thumb grazed her clit.
“So…you wanna keep talking about sitcoms and generation gaps, or…?”
Alaska shook her head vigorously.
“Because I really kind of wanted to eat your pussy,” Adore continued, voice light and lilting. “But if you’ve got other things on your mind-”
“Adore-” Alaska choked out, grabbing a fistful of her hair as her head moved downwards. “Please…”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t stop…” she breathed, eyes fluttering closed.
“Mmmhmm…”
Alaska moaned, body arching up into the heat of her mouth. “Fuck!”
“What a good girl you are…” Adore cooed. “So wet and delicious…”
All Alaska could manage to that was a strangled whimper, her fists grasping Adore’s hair tighter, eyes rolling back.
Yes—this was exactly the right way to end such a stressful day.
A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Previously: Violet was completely thrown for a loop when she and Sutan showed up for drinks and found Bianca and Courtney there.
This Chapter: Violet and Courtney both confront their partners about honesty, Katya suggests a potential move, Bob and Kade have a date night, and Team Baby celebrates Courtney’s deal.
***
Panic attacks never got easier, no matter how many times Violet suffered through them. She hated it, hated how scared and helpless they made her feel, hated how sobs wracked her body, how she couldn’t breath, how she couldn’t do anything but wait for it to pass.
Violet was outside of the bar, knowing that she should be cold, even though she wasn’t, a light layer of snow on the ground, the only idiots dumb enough to be out here with her smokers who thankfully kept their distance.
She had finally stopped shaking, her throat slowly opening back up, her heart no longer hammering away in her chest.
She was leaning against the brick wall, the cold seeping in, her arms tightly around her body, sweat on her skin.
She’d fix her makeup and go back in there. She just needed another moment, Sutan somehow still worth pretending everything was fine.
*
“All I’m saying is that there’s no way to prove that I was involved.”
“Oh come on! You were totally there!” Bianca laughed, turning to Courtney to say, “I swear he’s lying.”
“I’m not lying!”
Courtney kept the smile on her face while she craned her neck, trying to see if Violet was making her way back. She glanced at her phone, trying to figure out how long it had been.
“Are you okay, sunshine?” Bianca murmured, a hand squeezing her thigh under the table. She gave her a soft smile, lacing their fingers together.
“Yeah! I’m fine, sorry. It’s just that Violet’s been gone awhile; maybe I should go check on her?”
“Uhh, better to just give her some space,” Sutan said, picking up a sweet potato fry. “She gets a bit emotional when her dress is mentioned. I’ve had several sources confirm that it looks fantastic,” he smirked, looking proud as he crossed his arms, “but because of the whole ‘being back in Fame’s office’ thing, she’s struggling.”
Courtney opened her mouth, shocked, then closed it again.
When she’d seen Violet tonight, it was an oddly exhilarating feeling. It was as if they’d been soldiers together, in a war that ended years ago. At the time, it had been horrible, and even though they didn’t always get along perfectly, they’d survived—that alone was enough to bond them for life, in Courtney’s mind. It wasn't actually that long ago, of course, but in some ways, working for Miss Fame at Galactica had felt like another lifetime. It didn’t occur to her until this very moment that for Violet, the war was very much still going on.
“She’s…I didn’t know that…” Courtney turned to Bianca, horrified.
“I’m sure it sucks for her,” Bianca said, and by the way she calmly stirred her drink, it seemed clear that this wasn’t breaking news for her. “But Jos said that they hired a new girl, so hopefully she’ll be out soon.”
“From your mouth to god’s ears,” said Sutan, lifting his glass in a toast just as Violet came back.
“Lovely eyes,” Sutan smiled, Violet giving his shoulder a quick squeeze as she sat down. “Here,” he pushed his plate of fries towards her. “I figured we could share.”
“Thanks.” Violet picked up a fry, but Courtney couldn’t help but notice that she was just breaking it apart, only the smallest nibble reaching her mouth.
“Violet, I-” Courtney began, but then bit her lip, knowing that nothing she could say in this moment would be enough. Besides, Violet didn’t seem to want to hear from her anyway, avoiding her eyes like the plague.
Courtney sat back in her chair, gripping Bianca’s hand and taking a big gulp of her drink, trying to chase away the bitter taste in her mouth.
***
“So-”
Violet looked on as Sutan padded his pockets, the cigarette a stranger had just handed him between his fingers. They were standing outside the bar, waiting for the car.
“Should we go to mine,” Sutan found his lighter, flicking the top open, “or yours or-“
“Stop talking.” Violet didn’t mean to snap, but she was seconds from boiling over, the anxiety in her chest molten hot, anger barely kept beneath the surface.
“Excuse me?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, her boyfriend at least blowing the smoke away from her face.
“I’m angry.”
“I know you don’t love me smoking, but it’s one lousy cigarette-”
“God,” Violet had to physically restrain herself not to roll her eyes, the smoking bad enough on its own since Sutan still insisted that he wasn’t actually a smoker, though he was literally doing it.
“It’s not about that, it’s about, it’s-” She took a deep breath, swallowing down the urge to run, gathering all of her courage before turning towards Sutan and looking up at him. “Don’t you ever, ever,” Violet pressed a finger against Sutan’s chest, the wool of his jacket under her fingertip, “Ambush me like this again.”
“What? Ambush?”
“Yes, ambush.”
“This feels like an overreaction-”
“I’m not.” Violet pushed away from Sutan, a moment of insecurity settling heavy in her stomach. She wasn’t overreacting, she wasn’t, even as she had to fight to hold onto her anger. “I’m not overreacting.”
“Violet, I’m just smoking-”
“You didn’t tell me we were meeting anyone,” Violet had spend an entire childhood being told she was dramatic, that she was overreacting, that she was wrong, but this time, she knew she wasn’t, “least of all that we where meeting Bianca Del fucking Rio.”
“Oh.” Sutan paused, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the evening darkness before he flicked the ash. “I didn’t realize it was so important to you. I thought I told you.”
“Well you didn’t,” Violet folded her arms, holding her jacket tight. “You can’t treat me like this, like that. Throwing me in the deep end. It’s not okay.”
“Right,” Sutan chewed his lip. “I know Bianca can be a handful, but-“
“This isn’t about Bianca, it’s about you not telling me the truth.”
“I’m really sorry. I know I can be scatterbrained. I didn’t mean-”
“It doesn’t matter if you meant it, you still lied.”
“I guess I did, but it didn’t mean to, or, I wasn’t, I didn’t mean any harm, I-“ Sutan sighed. “I’m fucking it up again, aren’t I?”
“You are.” Violet knew she was harsh, knew she herself was maybe being unfair, but it was confrontation or flight, and Sutan was too important to run.
“I’ll stop explaining.” He dropped the cigarette, stepping on it. “I clearly wasn’t thinking when I planned this.”
“That’s apparent. Just, don’t do this. Don’t make me run away from you, from this, from us.”
“I won’t.” Sutan took a step towards her. “I’d hate it if you left, especially if it’s for something this fucking stupid.”
Violet smiled, the sincerity in Sutan’s voice like a balm on her frayed nerves, the knot in her stomach slowly untangling.
“I’m sorry.” Sutan put his arms around her, pulling her into a hug, “Truly.”
“I believe you.” Violet looked up, the familiar smile finally blooming on Sutan’s face.
“You wanna come to mine?”
“Mmh,” Violet nodded, crawling into bed with Sutan, his body on top of hers, his hands touching and taking all she wanted in the world. “I’d like that.”
***
“You alright, angel? You’ve been in there a long time,” Bianca said, stepping into the doorway of the bathroom, where Courtney was standing, barefoot, in front of the mirror.
She didn’t look up, just kept staring at her reflection, eyes glazed over. Bianca couldn’t help but wonder where the bubbly girl had gone, who was bursting with excitement over her new record deal mere hours before.
“Are you okay?” she asked again, voice softer now, and this time Courtney looked up.
“B…” she turned around slowly, biting her lip. “When did you find out about Violet being back in Miss Fame’s office?”
“Uhh…I’m not exactly sure. Maybe when I was trying to get a hold of Fame, after you quit?”
“So, right away. You knew right away.” Courtney took a shaky breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Shit. Bianca had no idea this was going to be an issue. She didn’t even think Courtney liked Violet.
“Well, I…” Bianca took a step closer. “I guess I didn’t see the point in stressing you out with Galactica talk.”
“So you lied to me, to protect me-”
“Whoa,” Bianca cut in, holding up her hands. “I did not lie. I just didn’t bring you information that was only gonna bum you out. Okay?”
“But…” Courtney took a deep breath. “Hiding something is not that different from lying. It’s a lie of omission.”
“It’s very different, and I wouldn’t even call it hiding anything. This simply wasn’t anything you needed to worry about-”
“That’s not for you to decide!” she exclaimed, the intensity surprising them both. Bianca raised her eyebrows and Courtney immediately looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I just don’t want you to keep things from me. Even if you’re doing it to protect my feelings. I need to know I can trust you, that you don’t think of me as some fragile little-”
“Of course you can trust me!” Bianca assured her. “I’m sorry too. I really didn’t think this would affect you so much. It just seemed so…I mean, what did you think Fame was gonna do? Certainly not inconvenience herself with a new person.”
If there was one thing Bianca knew about her dear friend, it was that she was not capable of handling sudden changes without making it a headache for as many people as possible. When Bianca heard Violet’s voice on the phone, it made perfect sense to her. Frankly, she’d barely even registered it as something out of the ordinary.
“I guess…I guess I didn’t think about it.” Courtney bit her lip, looking near tears, and Bianca stepped forward.
“Yeah, exactly. Which is what you needed to do, for your own sanity. This isn’t your problem, why are you letting it get to you?” she asked, cupping Courtney’s face in her hands.
“Because, I just…I just walked away, I quit and I let everyone else deal with the fallout. Violet doesn’t deserve to be demoted, she-”
“Okay. Yeah. But are you the one who demoted her?”
“Well…no, but-”
“Then it’s not your fault. End of story.” Bianca pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not gonna have you beating yourself up just because Fame was a selfish cunt.”
“Not even when she stops being mad at you?” Courtney asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Well…who knows when that’ll be?” Bianca asked bitterly, before adding, “But no, not even then. I promise. Okay?”
Courtney nodded, wrapping her arms around Bianca’s waist and tilting her head up for another kiss, which Bianca happily obliged.
***
“Trixie!”
Trixie turned from the counter, coffee cup in hand, barely keeping his eyes open, as Katya burst into the kitchen, her arms full of bags from her trip to the market. He stepped forward to try and help her, but he was still moving too slowly.
It wasn’t anyone's fault, but he always slept like shit before a show, even though they were completely on schedule.
Katya, however, was full of peppy energy, her eyes sparkling and smile bright as she began unloading the bags, her pregnant belly not hindering her at all.
“Guess who I just ran into in the lobby?” Katya exclaimed, filling the fruit bowl with what looked like blood oranges. Trixie opened his mouth, but before he could get out a single word, she barreled on excitedly, “Professor Davenport! Of course she was coming back from the gym; I swear that woman is superhuman. Anyway, do you know what she told me?”
“Did-” This time, Trixie managed to get a word out.
“Amy’s getting married! Isn’t that so nice? Joey’s graduating from college. Plus, guess what else?” Katya was now rearranging the freezer in an attempt to Tetris in some new purchases.
Trixie scratched his head, still wondering about the girl he was pretty sure was a teenager getting married. “Is Amy old enough to get married?”
“She’s like 28, is that old enough?” Katya laughed, shoving a carton of ice cream into the side of the freezer. “Anyway, after this semester, she’s retiring and they’re moving to Florida. Do you know what that means?”
“Uh…a lot of humidity?”
“No! I mean, yes, but, it means that their apartment will be free! Their second floor, four bedroom, three and a half bathroom apartment!” Katya smiled again, this time giving a little squeal for emphasis.
“You mean…you mean for us?” Trixie asked, brow furrowed.
“Of course! Wouldn’t it be amazing?! Pearl could have her own en suite, and Killer would have a bedroom. You should tell Fame we want it when they move.”
“That place has to be at least 6 grand a month,” Trixie reasoned. “Probably more.”
“So? We’ve saved so much being here, we can afford it. Especially with Pearl paying her share.”
Trixie shook his head. Currently, he was putting more than half his salary into a savings account every month—and for good reason. That was the money they would need someday if they ever wanted to buy a house. It was money they needed for Killer’s college fund. For a cushion in case something horrible happened. He gripped his cup tighter.
“Sugarbutt,” Katya sat down, gently touching his forearm. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” The words instantly soured in Trixie’s mouth. He knew he was lying, and he didn’t lie to Katya. “It’s just, if we ever want to move out of the city, we’re gonna need money in the bank-”
“Whoa, what?” Katya laughed. “Move out of the city? Why would we want to do that?”
“You mean…” Trixie didn’t know much about Katya’s childhood beyond the basics, because she didn’t like to talk about it. But he’d seen pictures of her on her family’s country estate, riding horses and swimming in a private lake and posed in front of massive rose gardens. He couldn’t imagine that anyone would grow up with all that and not want it for their own children. “I just assumed, that once Killer’s a little older, we’d want more space. A yard, a garden…don’t you want that?”
Katya shrugged, wrapping her arms around him. “Maybe. But it’s not something I’m worried about right now.”
Trixie swallowed. There was very little Trixie would ever want to change about Katya—but the way she was so nonchalant about money absolutely terrified him.
“Why do you still look so freaked out?” she asked, placing a light kiss against his nose.
“Because…” Trixie sighed. She would never understand. She couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up with nothing. To go to sleep with your stomach growling, to burn with shame when you couldn’t help gobbling up the free school lunches that all the other kids turned up their nose at. To wear hand-me-downs that began way too big, until they were embarrassingly small and frayed at the seams. He couldn’t explain it to her, because it didn’t make sense—why even now, earning a generous salary even by New York standards, he broke out in a cold sweat whenever he had to put more than a few hundred dollars on a credit card.
“We both work really hard, Trix,” she said softly, cupping his cheeks. “And we deserve to live exactly where we want. But I promise, if we sit down to work out the numbers and it doesn’t make sense…” She shrugged, then continued, “...then we’ll stay right where we are. And we’ll be very happy here. Because we’ll be together.”
Trixie nodded, tears of gratitude pricking his eyes as he wrapped her up into a tight hug. Maybe she did understand.
***
“Really?” Violet turned around, looking up at Sutan. “Coffee? Already?”
They were walking down the street, a light dusting of February snow in the trees, Violet in a white fur coat, her black hair a stark contrast to the color.
“Bored of me yet?” Sutan smiled, raising an eyebrow. He knew that they had just had brunch, the two of them on their way back to his apartment, but he couldn’t help but want to extend their time together, Violet needing to go home and prepare for the week ahead.
He refused to identify the emotion curling at his stomach as guilt, but he had slept rather badly last night, his conversation with Violet outside of the bar replaying in his mind over and over again. He was grateful that she had agreed to come home with him, the fact that she was lying right beside him the only reason he got any sleep at all.
He truly hadn’t meant to hurt her, hadn’t meant to cause her any distress, which somehow made it all that much worse. He hadn’t thought about Violet for a second when he had scheduled a meet up with Bianca, hadn’t considered if she wanted to come along at all.
He had only thought about himself, and his desire to see his friend to make sure that everything was truly truly okay between them - not just professionally, but privately as well.
“Of course not.” Violet reached out, taking his hand, intertwining their fingers without a second thought. “Don’t be silly.”
“Great,” Sutan grinned, pulling Violet towards the coffee shop. He hadn’t visited it before, but it looked cozy enough, the couches he could see through the window a nice place for them to cuddle up for a while. “They have pastries.”
“Oh god,” Violet rolled her eyes, letting Sutan lead her inside, opening her coat with her free hand. “You and your sweet tooth.”
“We can share?” Sutan had already seen a very promising cinnamon roll, the smell of freshly ground coffee strong and delicious.
“I don’t know-”
“I’ll let you pick?” Sutan stepped into the line, still holding Violet’s hand. “Whichever one you want.”
***
“Okay, now…Thursday? What’s on your schedule? Remember, give me the call times, not when the show starts.”
“No idea, I haven’t thought that far in advance.”
Bob raised an eyebrow, doing his best not to smile. He was sitting on Kade’s couch, his laptop open, half finished cartons of Chinese food on the coffee table, date night well underway.
“Okay, point taken,” Kade laughed, the pearly sound of it echoing through the apartment. “Gimme a minute.”
Kade grabbed his gigantic phone, opening up his email.
Bob didn’t have to, but he was making Kade a schedule for Fashion Week. Kade was an incredibly talented makeup artist, but a planner he was not, and while Kade was perfectly fine with going with the flow and showing up when he showed up, Bob knew that being even five minutes late could make or break a freelance career. So he was happy to lend a hand with some of his stellar organizational skills.
“Ooh, right, I have Christian Siriano at um…11? Wait, no, that’s not the call time, hang on-”
“You booked Christian?!”
“Oh my god babe!” Kade laughed, showing Bob’s shoulder. “Don’t sound so surprised!”
“I’m not!”
“Your eyebrows literally flew to outer space!”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up,” Kade grinned, putting his arms around Bob’s neck and leaning in, their lips meeting in a kiss. It was kind of awkward to twist his upper body, but Bob didn’t care as long as his boyfriend was tucked into his arms, Kade happily sighing into his mouth before pulling away.
“If you’re doing Christian, does that mean you’ll get his swag?”
“Probably?”
If there was one thing Bob loved most about the fashion industry, it was the PR bags. Maxwell had often teased him about his obsession with them, Bob refreshing the blogs over and over again to see if anything had dropped. Bob almost never got one for himself, designers not exactly lining up to hand them out to middle management, but Pearl often let him rummage through whatever she got and pick what he desired.
“You should bring me one!”
“I think taking two bags is frowned upon, babe,” Kade smiled, his elbow on the back of the couch, his head resting on his hand.
“I didn’t say to take two.”
“Oh, you want mine?” Now, it was Kade’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Omigod thank you so much for offering,” Bob laughed, reaching out and grabbing Kade’s hip. “I would loooove that!” Bob caught Kade in another kiss, pulling him onto his lap, schedule forgotten.
***
“Up your bum, no babies!” Courtney cried, clinking her shot glass against Adore’s, who threw back her head and laughed.
“You’re so classy,” she giggled before downing her shot in one gulp.
Courtney grinned and shrugged.
“And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you!” Morgan shrieked.
“Ow.” Tyra covered the ear closest to her, lips pursed in irritation. “Stop screaming, bitch.”
“You stop screaming!” Morgan yelled, and Tyra rolled her eyes.
Adore had to agree with her though - even in the noisy club, Morgan’s voice cut through like a sledgehammer. They were there celebrating Courtney’s latest achievement, and while Adore couldn’t be happier for her friend, it really made her feel like she needed to get her own act together.
She’d been screwing around with her music for awhile now, playing casually with her bandmates on and off since high school. When she moved back to New York after college (35 credits shy of graduation, as Bianca loved to remind her), they’d made the band official, rehearsing a few times a week as regularly as possible given everyone’s work schedules.
Adore was the lead singer and wrote almost all of their original songs, and they’d put together a decent set, playing some semi-regular gigs around town until the shit hit the fan with Dahlia and Pearl. She’d been avoiding all of them since then, but enough was enough.
She made a mental note to call Aja this week, see if they were open to finding a new bass player, since the thought of playing with Dahlia the fucking traitor still made her stomach turn. But allowing Dahlia to ruin her band or her love of music? That was even worse. Adore actually felt pretty shitty and disappointed in herself that it had been so long. Frankly, she was grateful to Courtney’s ambition for giving her this kick in the ass to jump-start everything again.
“I hope you’ll collaborate with me on one of the tracks,” Courtney said, slinging an arm around Adore’s neck.
“Really?!” Adore exclaimed. Though they’d first bonded over their love of music and performing, their similarities seemed to end there. Courtney was all bouncy pop, folk ballads and musical theatre, while Adore was punk and grunge and metal. Even the few times when Courtney tried sitting in with the band didn’t really work.
“Yeah, of course! We just have to find the right producer. But I would never want to do this without you.” Courtney hugged her tighter.
“Aww…I love you, bae!” Adore hugged her back.
“Excuse me,” Tati cut in. “No making out without me!”
“We’re not making out,” Courtney laughed.
“Oh…can we?” Tati flashed a grin, that slightly glazed look in her eye that said she’d reached a point of drunkenness where she was really ready to cut loose.
Adore pulled Tati in for a (slightly messy) kiss that was much wetter than she anticipated. When they broke apart, Courtney was giving them both a look of mild disapproval.
“Jealous?” Adore asked with a flutter of lashes, and Tati laughed, leaning a head on her shoulder.
“No, just…don’t you have a girlfriend?” Courtney asked, sipping her drink pointedly. “How do you think she’d feel about that?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Adore explained. She and Alaska were still having a great time together, but ‘girlfriend’? “We’re still just casual.”
“Okay, but ‘casual’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘not exclusive.’”
“It doesn’t?” Adore asked, arm still around Tati’s shoulders.
“Maybe you should talk about it?” Courtney suggested.
“Omigod, you’re so boring, just make out with us!” Tati exclaimed.
A/N: We know that it’s been a long time in between updates, and we’re so grateful to everyone who’s stuck with the story. XOXO! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Previously: Courtney scored a record deal, Shea met her newest subject, and Adore vowed to keep things casual with Alaska.
This Chapter: Courtney works out, Fame searches for stress relief, Shea has a theory, Jinkx tries to forget the past, and Violet gets a late-night visitor.
***
“Okay, five more,” Kameron said, “Come on! Five…four…almost there…”
Courtney groaned, abs burning as she pushed herself to do the last few crunches, before collapsing backwards onto the mat.
Kameron wasn’t having it though, and slapped her hand on the mat, right by Courtney’s ear.
“No way! No rest yet! Turn over and give me sixty seconds of Mountain Climbers.”
Courtney’s only response was a pathetic little whimper.
“Come on, lady. I’m not starting the timer until you’re in position…”
She hauled herself off the mat with another groan, getting into a plank position as she started doing the Mountain Climbers, eyes squeezed shut.
“Good girl. Keep going…only 55 more seconds to go…” Kameron said.
“I…hate…you…” Courtney panted, and Kameron laughed.
“Perfect. That means I’m doing my job. Fifty seconds.”
Courtney had been in the gym with Kameron since 6 that morning. It was barely past dawn now, and they’d already been working out for over an hour. However, with the recording schedule, this seemed like the only reasonable time she had to work out.
When she’d first learned of the exact timeline for recording her EP, she was shocked. They were supposed to write and record six songs in five weeks? Sure, one was a cover, but still. It didn’t seem possible, but time in the studio was apparently already booked. Yesterday, she’d listened to tracks from a bunch of different producers, and chosen her top 10. Today, she was supposed to have Skype meetings with all of them and then she and the label would choose 3 or 4 to move forward with. (It was already decided, much to her relief, that Olivia would be producing at least one of the original tracks in addition to the cover of ‘Crazy.’)
“Come on girl, pick up the pace!” Kameron called out, “Make these last 30 seconds really count.”
Kameron was, at this moment, Courtney’s worst enemy, but she was grateful for her too, whipping her into what promised to be the best shape of her life. Courtney was already starting to see muscles that she never knew existed. At least it would build up her strength and endurance, and hopefully her flexibility too, so that when she needed to get into the studio with a choreographer, things would come easier.
“Auuuuuugh!” Courtney pushed through the last ten seconds, sweat pouring down her back, every muscle on fire.
“Time!” Kameron said with a chuckle, as Courtney dropped onto the mat, gasping for air. “There ya go, excellent.”
She knelt down, handing over a bottle of water, which Courtney barely managed to take from her.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You’re the Devil.”
Kameron laughed again, then clapped her hands. “Okay, one more minute of rest and then let’s hit the elliptical!”
***
“Oh,” Fame bent down, touching the edges of the skirt, a backstage assistant practically taking it off the model to show it to her. “This is great.”
Fame had only meant for a brief drop in at the Marc Jacobs show, Marc's tendency to incorporate elements of streetwear so far from her own design aesthetic, but this year, as the last few pieces of the collection hit the runway, she had been captivated.
Marc had made the most fantastic geometric white skirt, the stitching in the layering forcing it to keep its shape when it moved. She showed one of the seams to Shea, who seemed equally impressed.
“Isn’t it lovely?”
“Absolutely. Are you going to buy it?” Shea asked.
“Well…”
Fame didn’t usually shop during fashion weeks, didn’t show such direct respect to other designers in public, even when she knew them personally, at the risk of cracking her tough exterior, but she needed to own this.
She looked around, trying to spot someone, anyone, who wasn’t some wet behind the ears intern or assistant with a clipboard and actually had a say at Marc Jacobs, when she saw her.
Bianca had just entered the backstage area, an inescapable vision in a bold red, black and white, the graphic prints and sharp lines drawing every eye to her.
At first, Fame felt ice cold, and then burning hot, her fingertips tingling, her throat dry, her heart hammering away in her chest.
Bianca’s brown hair was up in a bun, sparkling clips holding the neck hair that never managed to grow long in place. She was so achingly familiar, one of her favorite pairs of earrings dangling from her lobes, her ruby red lips parting in a smile as she spotted someone she knew, Bianca’s laugh breaking her heart.
Fame didn’t even notice the skirt slipping from her fingers, didn’t hear it hit the floor, didn’t think as she turned around and walked away, even the thought of having to interact with Bianca making her stomach churn.
She needed a distraction, and she needed it now.
***
“Bob!” Maxwell groaned, reaching in front of his boyfriend, turning off the coffee machine and stopping the overflow of Bob’s cup, the machine gurgling as it swallowed up the excess liquid. “Watch what you’re doing!”
“What?” Bob looked up from his phone, only now noticing his cup. “Oh!” He smiled, taking it from Maxwell’s hand. “Thanks babe.”
“Just pay attention.” Maxwell sighed, though he couldn’t hide his amusement completely.
“You two are being ridiculous.” Jovan took a sip of his coffee, the three of them having one of their unofficial morning meetings by the coffee machine, all of them gathering their strength to go see the venue where the Galactica show would take place tomorrow.
“But the V List just updated!” Bob waved his phone, the signature pink of his favorite gossip blog visible in the browser. “Don’t you care?”
“About what the rich and famous are up to?” Maxwell smiled, this discussion one Jovan and Bob had had a bazillion times. “I doubt it.”
“Come on…” Bob said, “You’re a designer, you care about Fashion Week.”
“Everything I’ve ever learned about Fashion Week gossip has been against my will,” Jovan said. “I literally could not care less about the glitterati.”
“You literally work in the fashion industry.”
“Fashion just happens to be my chosen medium of artistic expression,” Jovan said.
From anyone else, a statement like that would have sounded incredibly pretentious, but for Jovan, it was just the truth. Bob rolled his eyes, but Jovan continued undeterred.
“It’s true! I don’t make clothes so that millionaires will like…” Jovan changed his posture, putting a hand on his hip and speaking with an affected, Valley-girl accent, “Oh my god, buy them and wear them and use them as a status symbol on social media because late stage capitalist decadence is like, so cool!” He finished by blowing a raspberry to show how he felt about late state capitalist decadence.
“Werk,” Bob deadpanned. “But, your ‘artistic expression’ is clothes for millionaires. Like…that’s literally what you make.”
Jovan wrinkled his nose and Maxwell put a hand on Bob’s arm, saying, “Bob. Please. That’s not fair.”
“Thank you!” Jovan said, clearly happy to have Maxwell on his side, while Bob bristled.
“Are you seriously-” Bob began, gearing up for a full-on debate.
“Yeah,” Maxwell continued, cutting him off, “I mean, some of them are billionaires.”
Bob burst out laughing, pulling Maxwell in for a hug so tight, it practically lifted him off the ground. For a few seconds, Jovan looked annoyed, but then a smile began to creep across his lips and soon, he was laughing along, the braying sound of genuine delight that they probably heard all the way in Connecticut.
***
After Fame fled from the Marc Jacobs show through the back exit, not caring that she probably looked insane, she beelined straight for the pickup area on 6th, praying that her driver from the morning would be there so she could get the fuck away. Shea was close on her heels but quickly losing ground.
Of course, when she got there, he was nowhere to be found. Fame whipped out her phone to call Violet, her assistant somehow not picking up by the third ring, which was an unforgivable offense.
Fame was about to burst with frustration, the task of keeping it off her face killing the very last ounce of her self control, the only reason she hadn’t lost it completely the fact that she was imagining firing Violet in great detail.
“Um…” Shea managed to catch up by then, breathlessly jogging alongside her, the journalist apparently not used to running in heels. “Is everything alright?
“Yes!” Fame snapped, then took a deep breath, pausing to slow her stride.
“Miss?” Violet’s voice sounded from the phone, her assistant finally picking up now that Fame no longer needed her, this short spurt of insanity not an image she could project to Vogue.
This was exactly why she never talked to the press, the pressure too much, the charade unbearable.
Fame hung up the phone without answering, shoving it to the bottom of her purse before turning to Shea, the smile she usually reserved for her mother-in-law plastered on her face.
“I apologize. I tend to get, some would say, a little unsettled-“ The word burned in her mouth, even saying it causing her anxiety to rustle, “the day before a show, and I simply…lost my head a bit. There I was, dilly-dallying and enjoying myself. Admiring a fellow designer when there’s so much to do.”
The thought had thankfully taken a somewhat coherent form, Shea clearly believing her, giving her an understanding nod.
“Loose ends to tie up, lists to go over. I’m a bit of a…” Fame had to force the final words out, the truth of them making it so much harder to say, “...control freak.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Shea said, giving her a friendly smile, the two of them now just standing on 6th Avenue in the pickup zone with no chauffeur, like a couple of impoverished Dickensian urchins about to hail a taxi.
“Exactly.” Fame smiled, her cheeks starting to hurt. “I simply realized that the list was a little long, and I had a bit of a… panicked moment. Sorry if I came off as….somewhat unstable.”
“Miiiiiss…”
Fame turned her head toward Pearl’s familiar voice as it rang out down the block. She was strolling towards them in what looked suspiciously like last night’s party clothes: combat boots, painted-on leather pants, a white crop top, a shaggy black fur coat falling off her shoulders. She was a sloppy mess, and on anyone else, Fame would have found the whole ensemble appalling, an insult to Fashion Week, but the annoying thing about Pearl was always her effortless, just-rolled-out-of bed beauty, her thick blonde curls and smudged eyeliner just as stunning whether she was fresh from the salon or rolling up after a week-long bender. Which she might have been at the moment, from the look of her.
Fame straightened her spine. Just because she personally found this disheveled party girl infinitely charming did not guarantee that Vogue magazine would. It was time for a bit of damage control.
“Hello, Pearl,” she said, using a firm, ‘Be on your best, professional, big girl behavior’ warning voice.
“Heyaa,” Pearl drawled, her sleepy smile growing, absolutely not catching the hint as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. She wasn’t wearing a bra—though the camera strapped across her chest made it clear that she probably needed one. Fame tried to avert her eyes. “You headin’ uptown? Can I get a ride?”
“Perhaps, if you behave,” Fame said sharply, daggers in her eyes, an icy smile on her lips trying to play it off as a joke. Pearl blinked, not picking up on the clue, and she groaned internally, pushing through. “Have you met Shea? She’s spending the week with us while writing a feature for-”
“Oh yeah. We go waaay back. Hey there, Shea,” Pearl grinned, giving Shea a wink, which Fame absolutely did not like. “Been awhile.”
“Hi Pearl. Nice to see you again,” Shea said, her smile dazzling.
Pearl leaned in for a hug, sliding her arm around Shea’s lower back and up under her jacket.
Fame’s breath got caught in her throat as she watched the way Pearl pressed a kiss against Shea’s cheek that lingered—far, far too long. Her breathing still hadn’t recovered when Pearl turned back to her.
“So, how about that ride? I’m sure I saw Nicky-“
“I need to talk to you about the press release for the party,” Fame said quickly. “You forgot to add that thing we discussed. And we need to get it done. ASAP.”
“Oh?” Pearl paused, her eyes widening. It was one of their old codes for sex, so to speak—Fame demanding to speak to her alone, about an urgent but nonexistent work situation.
Fame wondered for a moment if Pearl would turn her down—if she even felt like she could.
“I thought you changed your mind about that…” Peal said slowly, eyes bright, “but of course, I’ll happily add whatever you want. My only goal is to make sure you’re happy.”
Fame nodded, secure in the knowledge that Pearl still wanted her. She turned to Shea with a slightly exasperated eye roll.
“Shea, I’m so sorry, this is a bit of a sensitive internal issue, so…do you mind if I stepped away for a few minutes to speak to Pearl, off the record? Publicity can be a bit of a minefield, you know.”
“Right, of course. I completely understand,” said Shea.
“Thanks. We shouldn’t be very long.”
“Take as long as you need.”
***
Wearing sneakers to work was its very own, special kind of luxury, and one of the few perks of not attending fashion week.
Even though Kiara worked in design, it was common knowledge at Galactica to never come into work looking less anything than your absolute best, if there was the slightest chance of bumping into either Fame or Raja.
She didn’t know if she actually believed it, but Bob swore that Raja had once fired an intern for wearing a backpack, Alexis getting dismissed from a meeting with Fame because her manicure was chipped and it had been ‘too distracting’.
Kiara pushed the door to design open, having just returned from tailoring. Tailoring had been as close to chaos as it ever was under Dela’s firm grip, everyone working on the final details and rushing to meet their deadlines, while the design floor was fairly chill, everyone either twiddling their thumbs or biting their nails while waiting for the Galactica show to happen.
Everyone, except one.
As Kiara walked over to her and Aurora’s station, she was greeted by the sound of a sewing machine. When she had left for tailoring to check up on her pants, Aurora had been running ruffles through her machine. Now, she had an insane couture jacket almost fully completed, her pitches for Raja’s Met Gala look coming to life through some of the fastest working hands Kiara had ever seen.
It had been the talk of the department when Trixie handed over the folder of Violet’s sketches to Aurora, everyone talking in hushed tones as they flipped through it, Maxwell even gasping at one particular page when he saw how harsh Raja’s notes were.
It didn’t sit right with Kiara that they had essentially done it behind Violet’s back, but it wasn’t like she and Violet were friends, and this was a major opportunity for Aurora.
“What the fuuuck.” Kiara stepped up behind Aurora, hands on her shoulders, leaning over her, unable to understand what she was seeing. “How long was I gone? Did I fall into a wormhole?!”
“Excuse me?” Aurora looked up, letting go of the sleeve she was making to focus on Kiara, the hum of the machine stopping.
“You did all of this in an hour?”
“Yes?”
“Oh my god,” Kiara bit her lip, swallowing the outburst that was threatening to erupt, the rest of the department for once thankfully minding their business. “This is insane.” Kiara’s finger dug into Aurora’s shirt, “It looks like you’ve been working on it for 3 days.”
“Oh,” Aurora’s lips curled into a smug smile, and Kiara couldn’t help but focus on the plumpness of them, a delightful sprinkling of pink settling on Aurora’s cheeks. “I’m fast.”
“No shit.” They were so close, Kiara only needing to lean forward the slightest bit to get the kiss she was suddenly longing for.
“Do my nimble fingers make you horny?”
“Desperately.”
“Let me finish this sleeve.” Aurora grinned, “and I’ll get right on you.”
***
“Mmh,” Fame moaned, the sink digging into her lower back. She shivered as she felt Pearl’s familiar fingers on her inner thigh, her blunt nails dragging in the most delicious way. Lips touched her neck, Pearl’s mouth on the sensitive skin.
They were in a handicapped bathroom, Fashion Week thankfully full of enough wardrobe malfunctions that no one had looked twice when they disappeared together.
“Ah!” Fame’s tightened her grip on Pearl’s hair, the thick blonde locks between her fingers.
“Shhh,” Fame could practically feel Pearl’s grin, her lips curling into a smile, her breath hot on her neck. “I didn’t wipe off my lipstick for you to make noise.”
“Oh please,” Fame whispered, snarling a little. She didn’t want to have sex in a bathroom stall, didn’t exactly enjoy the knowledge that her clothes were touching unsanitary surfaces, but she hadn’t been able to keep her hands to herself. “You wiped your lipstick off so that you wouldn’t make marks.”
“I know,” Pearl pulled back, their eyes meeting, a smug expression on her face. “Discretion above all else.”
Fame hadn’t expected to be so completely seduced by Pearl, but there was a reason that they ended up in this position again and again and again.
Pearl was annoyingly charming, and she knew it.
“Shut up,” Fame used her hand in Pearl’s hair to push her down, her pussy throbbing the second Pearl’s knees hit the floor.
“Yes ma’am,” Pearl took hold of her thigh, lifting it over her shoulder before disappearing under her skirt.
Fame braced herself, tilting her hips forward, the porcelain of the sink cold under her fingers.
“Hurry up,” Fame hissed, Pearl’s teeth grabbing the edge of her panties. “Everyone is-“ She yelped as Pearl released, the fabric snapping her skin.
“Fuck,” Fame groaned, using her thigh to trap Pearl’s head. “I’ll strangle you if you don’t move.”
“Well…” Peal paused, and Fame felt hot lips against her hip bone before she continued, “Death by pussy would be a glorious way to go.”
Fame laughed, Pearl so utterly ridiculous, her heart aching with how much she had missed their sex life. “Good girl.”
***
“Where is she?” asked a sharp voice.
Shea turned around. Violet and Nicky were hurrying down the block, and as usual, Violet looked tense and high strung, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Nicky attempted to calm her by putting a hand on her upper arm, but she shrugged it away. Yikes.
Obviously, Shea didn’t know anything for sure. Nor did she know what Violet and Nicky did or didn’t know, but she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to bring up any suspicions. After all, it was a feeling more than anything.
Everything Fame and Pearl said sounded completely plausible. Pearl worked in publicity, and revisions to a press release for a party the next day would be a timely and sensitive matter. It would also be something they wouldn’t want in a magazine article, or even known to someone outside of the company, if there was something particularly sensitive to consider.
All of it made perfect sense.
However…there was just…the look in Fame’s eyes when Pearl first strolled up. And the note in Pearl’s voice when she said ‘my only goal is to make you happy.’ After all, there had to be some reason that Pearl had such a plumb position at her age and with her reputation—she wasn’t exactly the picture of responsibility. And sure, she was a perfectly decent PR person, and savvy about social media, but this was New York.
You couldn’t walk three feet without bumping into PR cunts of every level of experience, and the city was just swimming with all kinds of social media experts.
Fame was obviously on edge today, obviously desperate. And Shea had known Pearl for a long time—if there would be anyone at Galactica who’d be an obvious ‘connection,’ she’d be it. Would it make more sense for Fame get some kind of prescription from her doctor like all the other Upper East Side ladies? Yes, maybe, but if Shea had learned anything about Miss Fame in the short time she’d spent with her thus far, it was that she didn’t trust people very easily.
But…it was all conjecture. And honestly, truth be told? Shea didn’t give a rat’s ass about drugs, prescription or otherwise. Or who did them, or why, or when, or how. That wasn’t the point or focus of her story. So instead of saying anything that could cause a problem, she just gave Violet and Nicky her most winning smile, saying, “Oh, she and Pearl needed to discuss something. They’ll be right back. I also think she might want to skip the Carolina Herrera show and go back to the office for a bit? She mentioned something about loose ends for tomorrow. She seemed a little stressed when we left Marc Jacobs; I think that’s why she left through the back.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Maybe she didn’t even see her,” Nicky said. “You don’t know when she left.”
“Her?” Shea asked. “Who’s ‘her’?”
“Nothing,” Violet said sharply, giving Nicky a look as if she could murder her, effectively shutting her up, then turned to Shea, her voice as sugary sweet as Shea had ever heard it. “I’m sure you’re right. Just some pre-show jitters.”
“I’ll check on the car,” said Nicky.
“Thank you.” Violet took a deep breath as Nicky stepped away, and Shea gave her another kind smile.
“To be honest, she actually already seems calmer.”
“Okay,” Violet sighed. “Okay.”
“So…are you gonna tell me who ‘her’ is now?” Shea asked, her interest piqued.
“No.”
“Well. Alright then.”
***
“This is so stunning,” Jinkx commented, flipping through the color charts that Alaska was showing her of looks for the Galactica show. “I can’t wait to see the photos.”
“I wish you’d come see it all in person,” Alaska said.
Jinkx sighed, shaking her head. She’d never really talked much about how her friendships had fallen apart all those years ago, how Sutan breaking their engagement had been a catalyst for one of the worst downright spirals of her life.
Without all the disgusting, shameful details of the story, Alaska was probably imagining something a lot prettier and less painful than what really happened. Jinkx was still deeply scarred from what a horror show she’d been, what a mess she’d made, how she’d alienated everyone with the unfortunate luck of being close to her, destroying almost every relationship that mattered in an absolutely spectacular shit-show.
Her only consolation, the only thing that allowed her to sleep at night, when it came down to it, was that for the worst of it, for the most humiliating moments and deplorable behavior, she didn’t remember it. The upside to blacking out for months of her life, she supposed.
It hadn’t been her first stint in rehab either, but it was the first time she took it seriously, staying for the better part of a year and then coming back to New York to rebuild her life from the ground up. She only relapsed once after that, and caught it quickly—that was the one Alaska saw, pretty early into their friendship so all she really knew was that Jinkx was a Good and Responsible Addict who checked herself into rehab after a few weeks of drinking, before any hard drugs entered the picture, and had been sober as a fucking Mormon ever since.
So Alaska didn’t know—couldn’t know. And Jinkx didn’t want her to. Jinkx didn’t want to risk her finding out what a terrible person she’d been, why her friends giving up on her wasn’t just understandable, but actually smart. She thankfully didn’t remember when or what, but she knew something had happened at one of Kelly’s dance recitals, and to this day, looking Juju in the eye gave her the sickest feeling in the pit of her stomach, even though she was the least stand-offish of all her former friends. And sure, Bianca had stuck around, but Bianca was crazy, so that didn’t count.
Jinkx closed the leather portfolio, swallowing hard. Sure, she was used to seeing everyone around, at parties and events. New York was a small town, when it came down to it. But Galactica was Raja and Fame’s turf, and even Jinkx, with all the chutzpah she’d always had, wouldn’t dare show up uninvited.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said simply, handing the portfolio back to her, and Alaska nodded. She looked disappointed, but didn’t push, and for that Jinkx was grateful. “But I do want to see the pictures.”
“Of course.” Alaska gave her an understanding nod and then slipped the color charts back into her handbag, glancing quickly at her phone in the process.
Jinkx watched her face, seeing a hint of a smile pass across her lips before putting her phone down again.
“Do you need to answer that?”
“No,” Alaska replied, looking back up to meet Jinkx’s eyes, that smile still pulling on her mouth. “It’s just a friend, I can reply when we’re done.”
“Hmm.” Jinkx found herself wondering about this friend, who seemed to be texting her constantly. “Is your friend…anyone I know?”
Jinkx was a great actor, but even so, she was too neurotic to pull off the faux-casual tone she wanted. The result was a little shrill and she cleared her throat, covering with a shaky smile.
“Yeah, actually,” Alaska said, taking a sip of her latte. “Adore Delano.”
Bianca had warned her, of course, that this was still going on. But even she didn’t know whether things were serious, since her sister was keeping a tight lid on things (for once). She was also admittedly distracted by her own relationship, and her job, and didn’t exactly seem to appreciate Jinkx’s repeated requests to play detective. Alaska’s use of the word ‘friend’ indicated maybe not so serious, but her face…there was a brightness to her expression that Jinkx knew all too well, although she hadn’t seen it in years.
“Ah. Are you two, um…” Jinkx faltered. She didn’t want to be a bitch here, or say anything to indicate that she disapproved. Lord only knew that Alaska deserved to be happy, and if she was honest with herself, Adore was the perfect match for her. Fun, sweet, sexy without trying too hard—sometimes without trying at all. (Jinkx wasn’t ashamed to admit that Adore’s posts on both Instagram and Facebook often popped up first for her.) Things with Adore would be easy, and that was something that Jinkx knew she could never offer. Something she knew Alaska would appreciate.
“We’re having a good time,” Alaska said, that smile growing ever so slightly before shrugging and adding, “It’s nice to have such a no-pressure situation, you know?”
“Right.” Jinkx sipped her own coffee, trying to buy herself some time to think of something supportive to say. She landed on, “Sounds like exactly what you need.”
***
“Violet!” Sutan knocked again, trying not to wake Violet’s neighbors up, but also feeling sillier and sillier, and like he had made a mistake just showing up in the middle of the night.
He was just about to give up, order a cab and go back home, when he heard the rattle of a door latch being pulled back, and there she was, peeking out, his girlfriend in all her glory.
“Sutan?” Violet opened the door fully, a concerned expression on her beautiful face. “What are you doing here?” She reached out, touching his arm and pulling him inside, closing the door behind her. “It’s like, 3:30? Is everything okay?”
“Do you always wear that to answer the door?” Violet was wrapped in her robe, the knot barely tied, a sheer negligee and bare breast visible underneath, a weird flare of jealousy rumbling in Sutan’s stomach. Who lived in the building besides his girlfriend? Did they ever come to visit? Had her neighbors seen her like this?
“I don’t usually have someone knocking at this time.” Violet crossed her arms, looking up at him, the only light in her apartment coming from the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question.” She took a step forward, coming into his space. “Are you alright?”
“You didn’t answer my text.” Sutan knew he was being petty, knew he was being stubborn and ridiculous, but Violet hadn’t answered his goodnight text. Sure, he had sent it after midnight, and he knew she had the Galactica show the next day, but Sutan had been at a party, his phone burning in his pocket, a nagging voice in his head forcing him to check it again and again and again.
“I was asleep. I have to get up at 5. Are you drunk?”
“... A little.” Sutan scratched his chin, realizing that he really wasn’t drunk enough to pull off behavior like this. He had no idea what was going on, had no clue why he was acting like every jealous girlfriend he himself had hated. “Maybe a lot.”
“You ridiculous man.” Violet smiled. “Come here.” She got on her toes, giving his cheek a brief but sweet kiss, reaching for the buttons of his jacket. “You’re chugging a lot of water before I’m letting you into my bed,” Violet pulled it from his shoulders, throwing it on the couch, taking his hand to take him to the kitchen, “and don’t you even dare think about hogging the blanket.”
