old money makes good for fashion

it wasn’t her first instinct, a network show, but these days they made the best out of what she was so graciously given by her team. this gig would take her from ‘critical acclaim to a household name’, recognition in broader entertainment, whatever the plan was; val montero wrapped up in a bow for campaigns they decided were ‘on brand’. the job was rewarding, and val was good at it. she shouldn’t complain, but the close attention, parasocial relationships and lack of autonomy drove them crazy.

she couldn’t yet anticipate what this opportunity would give her, or cost her, but seeing saba everett again was not part of anyone’s plan. she heard the news first from her team, apparently warranting a risk-management call disguised as a check in.

the two had met early on in val’s career, crossed paths a couple times, grew closer, publicly, at first, then condemned to privacy after her team saw a cozy candid photo of the two that sparked a little too much online debate.

since saba, the last person who was allowed near them without signing an nda, val had left behind a string of short-lived flings and casual hookups sworn to legally binding silence. the hold of her team had severely impacted her ability to form meaningful relationships, romantic or otherwise. it wasn’t saba’s fault, really, neither of them called the shots after all. still, there was a bitter taste in val’s mouth -aside from the tequila- that they couldn’t rinse out. she wouldn’t easily admit it, but it was a blow to her pride to be rejected baselessly by saba’s parents. val was always having to prove or defend herself, look over her shoulder and second guess every move, and it only got worse following her and saba’s fling.

if she was already labeled an outsider, she might as well lean into the role; take the network check, pour another shot, and play the unserious, degenerate party girl. so now they were on their way through the lot to do exactly that, until she heard her name being called. and there she was.

not exactly how they wanted to expend their buzz, but they were in no position to ignore saba now. “hey yourself.” they walked a couple steps closer to the door, crossing their arms as they looked up at the girl. her eyes narrowed slightly while they processed the frantic, familiar search through saba’s purse. “you lose something?”

Two fingers snaked into her back pocket where she procured a small baggie filled with white dust. The drunk blur of her vision made it look like it sparkled as she raised it about as high as her shoulder. This would fix how sleepy-eyed the tequila shots and then the vodka shots had made her feel."Do you need permission from the team to be behind closed doors with me?"

FIRST KILL | s1e2