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artificialqueens · 1 year

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Galactica, Chapter 106 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

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.

Pearl grinned, impressed, downing hers as well.

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artificialqueens · 2 years

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Galactica, Chapter 100 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

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.

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