The fireworks were cracking overhead, boisterous with no knowledge of what transpired below.
It really had been a beautiful night. Sober, at first, but convinced by circumstance to indulge in some champagne. Followed by an indulgence in some texts that should never be seen by the public. A final drink at the Chelsea, then a quick cab ride, a quick hook-up, and then...
Her brother was the one who called her as she was readjusting her dress. Her cheeks were still flushed as she met the January air and demanded to know why he was calling her at this hour. Some sort of crisis with whatever new teacher he was dating this time. She felt her stomach churning, something that had been brewing and she’d been clenching since her fucking orgasm.
But it was too much now. It wasn’t just an uneasiness. It was painful. “Victor,” she gasped into the phone.
It hit the pavement hard.
Her body hit it harder.
The ghost of old wounds ached as she stiffened, but it was nothing compared to the pain swelling up from her stomach, from her chest. No one noticed at first. She was just another drunk girl collapsed on the sidewalk outside Saints and Sinners, wasn’t she?
The clip fell out of her hair first, metal leaves and flowers clattering to the ground in a grating sound. It was all grating to her. Every heel that clicked on the pavement near her ear, every voice that asked if she needed help. Of course! Of course! But she couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth, and there was nothing but red.
A beautiful girl shouldn’t die in such an ugly way.
But that’s life, is it not?
This is short, is it not?
So is life.
Ask her father. He got ten more years than Valencia, but still short. They can discuss that in whatever afterlife, in whatever next life, they choose to.
There is more we could go into. About the bloody scene in which a girl in a champagne dress was found. A girl whose dreams were broken more than a dozen years ago, who settled on a new dream with such vehemence she actually achieved them.
We can go into so much more, about the way all her vibrant life seeped out of her drop by drop.
About how the ambulance didn’t matter, because nothing could save her.
About how her friends were hopefully saved from seeing her in such a devastating state, in writhing pain and a body blotched in both blood spilled and trapped beneath her skin.
Her brother’s eulogy echoed in the church a week later, because her mother could not deliver another eulogy:
“Play the melody you love most. Dance like no one is watching. Remember that Valencia would’ve danced beautifully next to you.”
And remember that it was a beautiful night when Valencia Flores died.
Because there is nothing shy of a beautiful night that Valencia Flores ever deserved.
“Unfortunately, my sobriety is going to last much longer than January. This,” Yvonne held up her still mostly full drink, “is only for show, I’m afraid.” If it wasn’t, there was no doubt that Yvonne would already be one or two drinks in. “My brother’s here, but his baby sister is definitely not the person he wants to spend his NYE with.” The question poked at a sore that had opened in the wake of her pregnancy news. Did Yvonne really have friends? Usually at events like this she tried to sneak away with Ophélie to get drunk or hit a line or two. But that wasn’t an option anymore. “It’s probably just going to be an early night for me, I’m afraid.”
“That’s smart, it’s actually much healthier for you,” Val said. When Damon was brought up, she just sipped at her water and nodded slightly. She pushed her earlier discussion with the man as far from her mind as she could to give the woman an undivided, attentive gaze. “Are you not feeling alright?” Val asked, suddenly concerned.
“You know I always have time for you, Flores, don’t be like that.”
Walking into a roomfull of people with Valencia on his arm was always fun. He once even had handed someone his monogrammed napkin as a joke to stop the metaphorical drooling. “Excuse you, my skiing and snowboarding skills are off the fucking charts. Maybe one of these days I’ll invite you there and teach how it’s done, you peasant.” He teased, and tapped at her hand gripping his arm. “Remind me, didn’t we bang in the club balcony at the last New Year’s party, or am I mixing something up? If yes, maybe we should turn this into a tradition.”
Val narrowed her eyes but smiled. If they didn’t have such a good rapport, she would’ve snapped at him for the unintended slight. As if she could’ve ever afforded a weekend in Switzerland to improve her skiiing skills. What would she have worn? Her brother’s hand-me-down parka that was donated to the local youth group and given over to her mother? “I’m afraid skiiing is the one, and do hear me, one, thing I’m not good at,” she admitted. She knew how to talk among the rich, though. “So you’ll just have to invite me for the hot tub after.”
The next words out of his mouth made her bite her lip, trying not to laugh as a slight flush crept from her neck up to her cheeks. “To be remembered by Damon Rutherford a year later, what a testament,” she mused with a grin. She squeezed his arm gently and looked around the room with eyes that didn’t catch a single detail. “I wouldn’t be opposed. Let me know how your night goes, and we’ll see if the new year starts off on a high note for you.” She leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek and brought her lips to his ear, speaking in a hushed tone. “And you know if you have to order a private jet at midnight to get to me, it’s worth it.” Another brief kiss on the cheek before she took a step decide to start to depart from him. “I hope you have a wonderful night.”
“Oh, you don’t have to explain. I don’t normally keep tabs on people… But you were just one of those who I guess stuck out.” Already for quite some time the Vixen was starting to become a place that was more and more dangerous. There was more shady stuff going on, she could feel it. Even if Adriana disliked all the girls that worked there, it seemed unfair the route it was currently going. The killings didn’t help. Especially that another year came, and another Vixen was murdered. She understood why Damon was worried, why he always asked if there was something else she could do, if she wanted to change; there were countless possibilities. But in Vixen, there was also a job to do. An inside ear when the French motherfuckers were drunk enough, mouths gaping open that they’d whisper the things she needed to hear.
Which was why she protected her name, protected who she was outside of the club. One wrong move and it could cost her.
She felt the tenseness of Val, and gently placed her hand over thee other’s shoulder. “Let’s get that drink and forget all that for now, needs to stay in 2020.” After all, the new year was sure to bring more fuck-ups. London never escaped from it. “Oh.” Another polite smile. So she didn’t know? Did that mean she had to play a role now here too, so that her name wouldn’t catch on; that Amethyst and Amaro and Rutherfords would not be thrown into one mix? “I came here with one of the guest. I thought I deserved a night off. Besides… I did not want to spend my new year on Laurent’s lap. How about you? Enjoying yourself, in a room full of boring conversationists?”
“I get it,” she said with a small smile, trying to welcome only fond memories of the club into her mind. “I could only squeeze Spirit’s ass so many times before you all took notice.” She smiled, maybe a bit too forcefully, to try to lift her own spirits and hopefully not damper the company she now had. She couldn’t deny the woman had an aura about her that made Val want to keep talking to her. It was funny the way some people could just exist and have that energy.
Val didn’t actually know who Laurent was, though she might recognize the man by face if he’d been a frequent flyer at the club during Spirit’s days. “Of course you deserve a night off, I’m so sorry if you took that the wrong way,” she quickly said, a touch of apology in her voice in case it was necessary. She asked the bartender for just a glass of champagne before turning back to the woman. “As much as I can. I haven’t been out much lately, honestly, so even boring conversation is keeping me fulfilled. Colleagues, you know. You have to pretend to be interested in what they say even when you aren’t.”
valencia_flores: New years bring new resolutions. If you’re looking to contribute to a charity (whether with money, time or resource) that directly helps families and children and London, click the link below to find out more.
Grateful, that was what Adriana felt exactly in that moment. Not only she was coming to save her, the hungry eyes of the men immediately went to her curves, not realising that they were looking a moment too long, their eyes too hungry and their mouths far too open. That made her smile; now they resembled the men at the club, willingly putting themselves under a Vixen heel. But as soon as they had realised their fault, it was too late, the both of them moving away in sheer speed.
It was only then that Adriana looked up. “Thank you.” Seh beamed at the girl as the recognition took place. Her features looked familiar, but not in a way that she had known someone. More of a face that one saw recurringly. It only took a moment to place, a face like Val’s, a girlfriend of one of her dead colleagues. “I remember. Spirit’s girl.” It felt wrong to say girlfriend or ex-girlfriend. With Vixen deaths happening apparently once a year these days, putting a name on the other halves seemed far too cruel. “I haven’t seen you around for a while. Stopped enjoying your night cab at the club?”
Val’s chest tightened, but her eyes no longer stung at the mention of Spirit. “I got very busy with work,” she explained, sounding more terse than she intended. She didn’t spill tears for her dead girlfriend anymore, but it still wasn’t easy to always talk on the subject. She forced a smile back on her face and nodded toward the bar. “Life’s just been very busy. We could probably both use a drink. I’m sure after that conversation you felt like you’d already gone through an entire other year.” She shouldn’t drink on her meds, but Spirit probably would’ve encouraged her to have just one. “I’m surprised to see you here. I figured Vixen would have something fun and sparkly for their New Year’s celebration.”
“I’m also too sober. Is it bad that I’m a little glad I’m not the only one?” Yvonne chuckled with a shake of her head. As amusing as watching politicians embarrass themselves would be, she was feeling a little left out considering her current situation. “It beats sitting at home alone,” she shrugged.
“No, it’s always good to find the company, but now I hope you drink for me, too,” Val sighed. She normally didn’t get drunk at events like this - but she did get tipsy enough pretend the night had always been wonderful. “Apparently I’m doing that dry January thing,” she said with a quiet laugh and shake of her head. She wasn’t one to indulge, really, but she did always used to enjoy some wine at the end of the day. At least she’d be able to start drinking before the weather got warm and she felt that itch to visit somewhere with a beach. “Do you have any friends who came out tonight?” She didn’t mean to pry much, but she knew what it was like to feel like the odd one out. She hated to think this woman was stuck at the event just because of her last night. “Or another party you’ll at least get to go to after?”
Ah, Val. His partner in crime. It was good to see her back on her feet, and what a lovely sight those legs were. “They’re off to the women’s room, the mandatory female party ritual, I guess,” Damon walked over to her and extended his arm for the MP to take. “It has, but I’m easily distracted by women in tight dresses,” he shamelessly eyed his company. “You don’t look like you’ve just spent almost two months in a hospital. Nice job, Flores.”
She shook her head a little at his remarks but didn’t say anything else. She hadn’t actually seen his dates, but word spread fast that he’d brought a movie star. Stuck at the hospital, she’d watched Eleanor’s Christmas movie. If she saw the woman, she hoped to give her a compliment on it. “I have a feeling you’ll be very distracted tonight,” she mused as she took up his arm. “There’s no diet like disgusting hospital food.” She knew, based on sizing alone, she was in alright shape. But she still felt too weak by the end of the day sometimes to even lift a cup of tea to her lips. “You clean up decent enough yourself. How was Switzerland? I’m glad to see you didn’t come back with two broken legs.”
“Yes, absolutely.” Adriana smiled as the surrounding men continued to talk about China. “One of the final places declared poverty-free last I heard was Ziyun. Though I am not sure how it is all going to proceed further.” It was yet another conversation topic, which frankly was killing her buzz by a lot. But still, Adriana remained the professional smile on her face, which Lara had taught her when they were little. The trick was to always keep smiling and nodding her head, and they would not refocus their attention on her.
As the men dove deeper into the discussion of poverty in China, Adriana’s eyes roamed around the room, looking for a soul that would save her from this dreaded conversation. Shit, she was even willing to talk to some French bastard if it got her out of here.
Val was on her way back from the bathroom, having been sipping on nothing but water all night as she tried to engage in conversations with many she hadn’t seen in months. She was trying to find where she could maybe get some food so she wasn’t just stuck having water when she happened to catch a woman’s eye. She recognized the eyes, but she connected it to a different name - Amethyst. It was always startling to see a Vixen in public, even almost 18 months after her girlfriend’s death. She used to end every night having a glass of wine while she waited for her girlfriend to finish her shift. Now, she couldn’t remember the last time she stepped inside the club.
Feeling as though she was suddenly coming back to earth, Val realized that the face she was was one she recognized beyond just the features. That woman needed to get out of that conversation. “Darling, it’s been too long,” Valencia cooed, putting on that extra touch of a fake posh accent she found herself using sometimes at these parties. “I need an escort to the bar, boys, I hope you don’t mind,” she continued, gesturing toward the bar before stepping away with a hand motioning for Amethyst - what was her real name? - to follow.
Once Damon got the Chelsea Royal with Adriana and Eleanor, he may or may not have already done a line or two, and topped it off with a champagne in the limo – a traditional warm-up before the party. With the number of people he knew at this gathering, he needed the energy for all the small talks and quick hellos. Business and politics, after all, went hand-in-hand.
Damon had spent a lot of time inside these walls. Back in California all those years ago, when his father gave him the keys to the kingdom – to manage the Chelsea Royal Porto, he’d often fly out to London, to study how the original location was being run. Now, with a drink in hand, Damon had been admiring the massive columns as if he was seeing them for the first time.
“Sorry, did you say something?” He turned to this person who’d approached him. “I’m having a little emotional moment.”
Val was amused but only showed a small smile as she shook her head. “I was just going to ask which of your two dates you were grabbing drinks for,” she teased. She turned to look where she thought he’d been staring, unsure what could’ve caught his attention. “Something got your eye here?”
It was either dramatic irony or karma that the time in her life when she most needed a drink was when Yvonne absolutely could not drink. But the lack of nonalcoholic options at the NYE party was just a cosmic joke. Yvonne had now been holding the same glass of champagne for an hour, with only a little off the top missing from when she’d been able to dump some in a potted plant while nobody was looking.
Her eyes scanned around the room, eyes landing on Valentina with an empty glass in her hand. The two of them had an agreement where Yvonne could dump her full glasses onto her in exchange for empty ones and Yvonne was about to make her way across the room for an exchange when a body blocked her path. “Oh, hi. Enjoying your evening so far?”
Valencia had a dressed picked out for New Year’s back in September. But it had cutouts in the side, and she wasn’t comfortable showing off the cutouts in her own sides at her first very public outing since Hallowe’en. Normally she was a social butterfly, attaching to anyone she could for conversation until someone more interesting came along. But she now found herself floating like a mindless jellyfish, unsure who to talk to and afraid everyone was staring at her.
“Too sober,” Val admitted when she found herself in a sudden conversation with the youngest Rutherford. She had water in a champagne glass, unable to drink on the medication she was still taking. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
kianamaiart
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
titsay
origamiaround
2087
amandla
dailybridgerton
