Page 169 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Someone put me out of my misery.
“What—where—how did I—?” I say in a voice that sounds like I’ve been smoking cigarettes made of sand.
He calmly sips. “Monica found you last night sprawled tragically on the beach. She insisted we rescue you.”
“You were singing rock ballads to the waves,” Monica says while folding scarves. “Also crying. A lot. Your luggage is in the closet, along with your empty bottle.”
The wordbottlesends my stomach into a warning spin. Tequila is now officially dead to me. Along with hope, dignity, and FaceTime.
“You are absolutelycommittedto testing the limits of my considerable talents, aren’t you?” Sebastian says, handing me two tiny spoons. “Here, chill your under-eyes, and you might just pass for human again.”
I’m about to tell him how far up his ass he can stick his beauty tips, when the mirror across the suite shows the truth.Yikes.I look like roadkill that got hit, stumbled into the next lane, and then got hit again. Puffy eyes. Streaked cheeks. And my topknot is givingI just cried in a Walgreens parking lot, so don’t askenergy. I slap the spoons under my eyes and pray.
Sebastian sighs. “Wecannothave the sister of the groom looking like she slept in a department store dumpster.” He pivots toward his fashion army. “We have twenty minutes to clear out and descend upon Casa Cashmere. Today, we style the wealthiest individuals in the world. And most importantly, make sure this woman doesn’t vomit on the mink. Chop-chop, fashionistas!”
“Thanks for the rescue,” I say, “but I don’t need a ride. I’m not going.”
“Monica, assume control. Do not let those girls ball up my couture capes like gym socks.”
Shenods and starts barking orders. “Valentino goes in garment bag twenty-three. Careful with those Louboutins! Where is the nipple tape?”
His expression is unreadable as he gestures toward a closed-off sitting area. Two plush chairs face oversized windows that offer front-row seats to the ocean.
“Sit,” he says as he opens a suitcase with velvet-lined compartments. Inside, there’s a portable espresso machine.
“You travel with that?”
He tosses me a look. “There are two things I never trust to amateurs. Orgasms… and coffee. Espresso?”
My hungover body practically weeps with gratitude. “Please.”
The grinder whirs to life, filling the space with rich, earthy promise. Sebastian moves like a high-end barista in a slow-motion commercial.
“Do you know why I ride you harder than anunpaid intern at Milan Fashion Week?”
“Because you’re the style antichrist and cruelty is your kink?”
He snorts. “Because Iseeyou. It seems impossible looking at me now, but I have not always possessed this level of… fabulousness.”
“Sure, and next you’ll say you weren’t hatched from a Dior egg in Paris.”
“Regrettably, my origins were mundane. Blue-collar family, off-brand cereal, parents who only provided clearance-rack fashion.”
The espresso machine hisses and gurgles. Warm, nutty, roasty. My soul claws its way back into my body at the sound.
“Fashion became my path to salvation. I wanted to be a designer. So I poured every dime I had into chasing the neontrend. Glow-in-the-dark accessories. Belts, ties, suspenders, headbands—all made fromactualglow sticks.”
“You made clothes out of glow sticks? That’s either genius or a fire hazard.”
“Sadly, the eighties proved to be an unforgiving era for establishing one’s reputation. The critics were merciless. ‘Bellini’s Radioactive Disaster’—that wasHarper’s Bazaar.Cosmocalled it ‘Chernobyl Meets Club Med.’ And the hardest to endure was fromVogue:‘Glow Hard: One Man’s Nuclear Meltdown on the Runway.’”
“Ouch.”
“Soul crushing but profoundly instructive. I learned that if you cannot join the sharks in their feeding frenzy, you must intimidate them into submission. I created an entirely new persona obsessed with styling, and Sebastian Bellini was reborn. And now? I am the critic. I became the fashion world’s gatekeeper.”
He removes the espresso from the machine with ceremonial care, then places a tiny cup before me, dark and aromatic as sin. I take a sip.
“Holy shit. You should abandon styling and open a coffee empire.”
