Page 5 of Fabricated

“You’re living the glam life now, sweetie. You’ll get used to it.”

Scoffing, I say, “I will never get used to almost flashing my ass at everyone.”

“Hush, child.” She swats my ass as I walk to the door. I shoot her my meanest frown and she laughs. Fucking laughs.

Cameras circle around me as I walk down my hall. I stay looking straight ahead. At first, I couldn’t not gape at the cameras. But it’s week two and I’ve somehow learned to accept that this is my reality.Taking notice of that pun gives you ten points. Did you know that even if the cameras are not surrounding me, they have cameras in every room? Every angle. No blind spots. No places to hide. Not even in my own room. It makes me feel a bit like a caged animal. The Children of Nobility are used to it. They grew up in the spotlight. They have no shame. They just act how they normally would while I second-guess saying hello.

My necklace bounces as I walk down the stairs. Slapping against my chest in a rhythm to my walk. Flashing lights, smoke, the bass of the music shaking the walls. People laughing, smoking, and… is that champagne? Sipping champagne. Normal shit here.

Kalisha is dancing with another girl in a blue dress. Tori is grinding on Branson while he dances behind her. His eyes lock with mine, then slowly take in every inch as if he is undressing me with a predatory gleam. It causes my heart to race and a hot coil to form in my stomach. I turn away before the blush reaches my cheeks. I never believed in chemistry. It seemed so very Hallmark to me, but I was experiencing it firsthand now. And I was always drawn to darkness.

Branson Lexington comes off as nice, and I guess maybe he could be, but there is something dark lurking in the shadows of his eyes. Justin spins around me, handing me a glass of champagne with a wink. I smile, saluting him. Bringing the glass to my lips, my eyes trace back to Branson. His mouth is skating down Tori’s neck, her mouth parted.

Blind rage overwhelms me. It’s irrational. I don’t even know him, but I’m drawn to him. Like sunflowers to sunlight. An addict to addiction. I feel heat lick my body from behind, matching the rage inside me. “The best course of action is to give it to him better,” Tucker whispers into my neck.

His hands grab my arms, circling them behind his neck. I start moving my body against his to the beat. Branson’s eyes narrow as he watches us. His jaw clenches slightly, hands tightening. I’m glad to know the madness that has overcome me seems to be luring him in too. Eventually, I turn around, facing Tucker with a smile. He is fun. Safe. Kind. And so not my type. I wish he was, though.

We dance. Drinking more champagne as Dante steals me for a quick dance. He is sensual and intoxicating. He oozes sex appeal, and I am so lost to it as he spins me, releasing me, and I stumble a bit, not realizing how much I had to drink. I see him mouth, ‘oh fuck’ before I bump into another body. When I turn, my smile drops.

“You stupid bitch,” Tori screams, champagne on her leg.

I cover my mouth to stop the laugh that is building but I can’t. She is seriously upset about it getting on her. As if she’d melt from the smooth bubbles. I’m about to choke out an apology when she takes a drink off a waiter and splashes it on me. Fizzy bubbles hit my face, my breasts, and my hair. I gasp. Did she really think she could treat people this way? It was an accident. I wipe the liquid from my eyes and glare at her. Right as my fist goes to swing—because yes, I am sweet, but I’m still from the streets and you don’t disrespect me—Tucker swings me up into his arms. Playing captain Save-A-Ho for tonight, it seems.

“Grow the fuck up, Tori. It was an accident.” She gapes at him, a delicate hand to her chest.Tucker carries me out of the room.

“A tip,” he whispers as I snuggle into his chest. “If you’re going to break, do it in the shower. They can’t film you there.” I nod into his shirt.

When we go to his room, he sits me down. His room is in a royal red and gold. The walls have an intricate wallpaper on it. A gold bedframe and headboard are adorned with thick red and cream sheets and covers. Gold and cream pillows. Accent pillows with gold fringe and jewels. Some with Medusa heads on them.

The walls are covered in designer brands. Some questionable art. And pictures of himself… He totally has pictures of himself! Who even does that?

He turns me around. His fingers pull the zipper of my dress down, and slowly trace my bare skin. “Fuck,” he whispers. I turn as he runs his hands through his hair, looking everywhere but at me. “Go take a shower. I’ll go to your room and get your pajamas. We’ll have a,” he snaps his fingers, “you girls call it a slumber party, right?” I smile.

“Slumber party. Sleepover. Whichever.” I dig into the guard I slipped under my dress and give him my key. He winks and gives me his most heart-stopping smile before leaving.

I turn the hot water on all the way up, startled when my bath stuff appears to be in the shower. After cleaning my hair and body, I break.

* * *

“So, they put cameras in our rooms? Isn’t that illegal?” I ask while sitting in Tucker's huge bed, cuddled under the covers with him. It was platonic to me. I hoped it was for him as well.

“You signed a contract. Did you read the fine print?”

“Hell no. I would show my ass for that kind of money.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“So, all of this that we are doing is… is being recorded?”

He hums. His arms circle around my waist. “Recorded and used to build drama.”

I nod, snuggling into him. Yawning. That made sense. My eyes flutter and my body goes into a meditative state before finally I am falling into a deep sleep.

I wake to the sound of a quiet argument outside Tucker's room. I roll over to face the door to try to hear better.

“What was I supposed to do? You just stood there,” Tucker says.

“Maybe let her hit that bitch. She’d be doing what we all wanted to do since we were kids.” Branson?

---