Chapter 19
19
I’m alone, tucked away on the balcony garden after the dinner, huddling in a wool coat under a heat lamp that provides little refuge from the late-winter chill. The din of chatter and music pierces the cold air. I glance into the warm hall through the wide glass doors, observing the affluence from afar. I’m tempted to go back in, but I’m uncomfortable at the prospect of mingling further. The nauseating dinner made me feel distinctly out of place, unable to perceive the beauty of the experience that was apparent to everyone else.
I turn my gaze to the streets below. A line of cars gather like beads on a necklace, waiting for the traffic light. It blinks green and they move forward, only to stop at the red light a few yards ahead.
“It’s Chloe, right?”
I jolt and turn to find Isla beside me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” A woolly green cardigan is thrown over her shoulders. She hugs the opening tight to her chest, obscuring most of her pink dress.
“No, no. I was kind of zoning out.”
“Deep in thought?”
“Sort of.”
“I’m Isla.” She extends a hand for me to shake. Her grip is firm.
“I know. Nice to meet you.”
She leans against the railing with a sigh. “Did you enjoy dinner?”
I have the urge to be easygoing and say Yes! But the way she’s looking at me, her brow slightly arched, lips curled like she’s two seconds from telling an inside joke, makes me pause.
“Okay, don’t tell anyone else this,” I whisper with a sniffle. “Didn’t the dinner feel a little—”
“Intense?” she finishes, also in a whisper, our breaths white between us.
“Exactly!” I say a bit too loudly. “Like the music was so… and the models?”
“It certainly was immersive .” She retrieves a cigarette and lighter from her purse. It’s the vintage type with a golden lid. “Is it okay if I smoke?”
“Go ahead.”
She flicks her lighter open with a schwing and brings the blue flame to her cigarette. “At least the food was bomb. Is this how other Bella Marie events go? This is my first.”
“They’re… something .” I hope this vague comment is enough to satisfy her curiosity.
“I was so nervous coming here. Especially since I was over an hour late. My youngest wouldn’t stop crying until I watched like three episodes of Bluey with her. I didn’t even get to taste those fancy drinks that everyone was raving about.”
“Imagine shipping water across the world for lemonade. It’s some rich white people shit.”
She laughs and I try not to beam.
“You can call me Iz, by the way.”
I’m glowing from the inside. Is this what it feels like for a cool kid to befriend you? A few days in Chloe’s shoes and I’m already making friends. Fuck being yourself; being someone else is so much better.
“How did you get involved with Bella Marie?” I ask. “She doesn’t really seem like your vibe.”
Iz has a laid-back yet edgy aesthetic. Like she’d lounge on a fire escape and pass blunts to strangers. She’s the polar opposite of Bella Marie’s other peers, who leak the aura of legacy students at Ivies with trust funds as big as their egos.
Iz chuckles. “I see what you mean. Do you really want to know?”
I nod eagerly.
She takes a drag of her cigarette, the end glowing amber. White smoke curls into the dark sky, blossoms in my nose. “I was in a really abusive relationship.”
Instantly, I regret asking. I’ve never been good at comforting people, probably because no one’s ever comforted me. If I had a problem, my aunt would shut me out, leaving me to fester, or criticize me for giving her a headache. I redirect my attention at the park to avoid making eye contact.
“I don’t even remember how he slowly isolated me from my friends and family—maybe it’s a good thing I don’t remember. But before I knew it, all I had was him and my babies. No job, no connections, no future aside from him.” She flicks ash off her smoke and inhales again, long and deep. “But then I started an Instagram in secret and blocked all his accounts so he wouldn’t find out. I would post on it whenever he was at work. When I got that first email for a sponsorship, it felt like a literal miracle. For a while, my socials were the only agency I had. The only place where I could use my voice. Where I could feel beautiful and seen. But then he found out and…” She shakes her head, cigarette ash scattering into the wind. “The police got involved. I finally decided to separate from him and file for sole custody of my daughters. I didn’t feel safe staying in my hometown, so I fled across the country to New York.”
I’ve developed a jaded view of social media influencers, viewing them as a toxic cesspool of self-aggrandizing narcissists who feed us images of their deceptively attainable wealth through LED screens connected to our palms. But her story softens me. It’s easy to forget that genuine good can come from our interconnectedness. It’s there for people who need it. If you’re lucky, it can open up the world.
“It wasn’t the smartest decision to move to the most expensive city in the world,” Iz continues. “It only took a few months to realize how out of my depth I was. I could barely afford rent, despite taking every brand deal that came my way. I had to get a second job writing articles for an indie magazine. A month in, I published an article about my story and boom, Bella Marie follows me on Instagram. We start messaging, bumping into each other at events, and next thing I know, I’m invited to this launch. I couldn’t pass this opportunity up, especially considering how well connected she and her whole family are. Industry leaders float around her as if she owns them. Just by showing up tonight, I was able to get my name in with a few brand coordinators and major fashion houses who wouldn’t have looked my way otherwise. You have to associate with people like them to move up in our world.”
She puts emphasis on the word them and the corners of my mouth curve upward. I wonder if she knows about Emmeline’s tweets.
She turns to me. “But what about you? How did you two meet? You two must be pretty tight since you sat next to her at dinner.”
It didn’t feel that way. Throughout the whole dinner, Bella Marie barely spoke to me. Then again, there wasn’t much conversation to be had. Mouths were preoccupied by chewing, ears deafened by the dour orchestra.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I guess we’re close. I can’t remember how we met. It’s a blur. I think it’s been over five years and so much has changed since then.” I hope she believes me.
“I know how you feel. This past year has been like…” She blows a raspberry, hand waving to signify crazy , when an alarm goes off on her phone. “Shit. I gotta run and relieve the babysitter.” She stubs out her cigarette and walks it to the nearest trash can.
“I’m gonna head out too,” I say. “I think I’m about to explode out of this dress.”
She laughs. “I’ll see you around.” It sounds like a promise.
Alone, I hobble back to the main hall, where guests are sipping cocktails and mingling, while models are on little pedestals dotted throughout, lights bleaching them to porcelain. I can tell where Bella Marie is by the swarm of people surrounding her. She’s like a queen bee wafting pheromones to attract helpers. There’s no way I’ll get to her in under thirty minutes, so I don’t even try.
Before I go, I find Angelique. She’s the only one I care to say bye to.
I tap her on the shoulder and she turns around with her snaggletoothed smile. “Leaving already?”
“I’m exhausted.”
She pouts like she’ll miss me. “I’ll see you around.”
As I’m about to leave, I remember the odd gap in Chloe’s calendar. “Hey, are you going on the trip?”
Her mouth parts, something clouding her eyes. She cocks her head. “What trip?”
I frown. “You know. The trip in June?”
The people around us turn to listen.
Angelique laughs tightly. “Silly goose. I think you’ve had too many drinks. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Huh. She is the newest Belladonna—is it possible she’s never been on the annual trip? “Never mind.”
“Okay. Toodles!” She returns to her conversation with an air of urgency, and I walk away, somewhat uneasy.
I’m calling for the elevator, when someone shouts, “Chloe!”
“Hey!” I say, avoiding the blonde’s name. It’s one of the three Belladonnas who isn’t instantly recognizable.
Meeting so many new people is overwhelming. It’s like scrolling through an Instagram comment section and trying to commit every user to memory.
She catches up to me with three long strides. She’s at least a foot taller than me, built like a gazelle or an athlete with her long limbs and sleek blond hair.
“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I saw you on my class list. Nabbed yourself a front-row seat, like always.” She winks.
“Totally! I’ll be there.” I have no idea where there is.
“I’m so glad to see you in high spirits, especially after your sister passed.” She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes tight. Like, really tight. Her grip strength is insane. “Just remember to reach out if you ever need help. We all know what it’s like to be in your place.”
The elevator dings. The door opens.
“I won’t hold you hostage any longer. Keep strong and oh—I sent some positive affirmations that I thought would help you. Check your DMs. See you tomorrow!” With that, she waves and gallops across the event space to Bella Marie’s side, joining the dozens already congregated near the queen.
Inside the elevator, I peek at Chloe’s calendar. There’s only one event in the morning: SoulCycle at seven a.m., aka my personal idea of hell.