Page 98 of Your Coffin or Mine
“Your parents again?” George asks with sympathetic eyes.
I cast him a pleading look to drop the conversation, otherwise I fear I’ll start crying again like I did when my mom called while he was doing my makeup.
“C’mon, doll. Let’s get you another drink, yeah?”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. If I have to say even a word, I will lose it.
George searches my face, and his expression turns hard. He grabs champagne from a waiter’s tray and shoves it into my hand, then pulls me around the edge of the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” I say with a fake laugh to hide my anxiety. Not that there’s any chance of that; my whole day has been a shitshow.
For such a petite man, he sure can move quickly. We’re weaving through the crowd so fast I can barely keep up, my cheeks pasted into a strained smile.
“Excuse us!” he shouts, right before we bump into someone, jostling them.
The woman squeals as her champagne almost spills down her dress when it sloshes. Droplets fling onto her. I blurt out an “I’m so sorry” before I see it’s Bianca eyeing me like I’m a slug.
Great, now I’ve almost spilled her drink on her. She’ll likely think I did it on purpose when really I’m just at the mercy of a madman.
“Watch it.” Her face is twisted into a snarl that truly doesn’t match the outfit she’s wearing. It’s pink and ruffled, probably some designer’s fresh work.
“Bianca,” George sneers, and it’s clear the two have had some arguments as of late.
“Oh, it’s you,” she says, her face somehow grimacing even harder at George before she cocks her head at me. “And Aubrey.” She smiles with red lips. “Isn’t that dress a bit too glamorous on someone with that kind of... figure? I think it’s a brave choice.”
I fidget, pulling my cloak around me. God, could this chick be more of a bitch? Rationally, I know she’s an awful person and her words don’t mean shit, but my stomach flips with dread.
George looks her up and down, and tuts. “What happened, Bianca? Did you forget you’re supposed to be the wicked one with that surly-as-fuck attitude? Your dress looks like 1939 Glinda the Good Witch and a whole batch of cupcakes threw up on it.”
The dress really does look like that big puffy pink Glinda dress with all the sparkles, or at least a massive cupcake. There are layers. Many, many layers.
“As if either of you understands fashion. It’s Vera Wang, isn’t it stunning? I would never expect someone like Aubrey to get it. But you, little man—I would think you would recognize an artist. However, with this outfit?” She points at his tuxedo. “What areyou even supposed to be?” She giggles behind her hand as if she’s the funniest person ever.
George’s grip tightens on my hand.
Rage thunders over me.How dare she hurt his feelings!
“Honestly, Bianca, I don’t know who told you being mean gets you favors—because it doesn’t. It just makes you look ugly, which is a real shame because you are really beautiful.” I don’t take the time to look at her face and see if my words hit where they should. “Come on, George.”
I tug my hand out of his grip and tuck it into his elbow.
No one deserves to be talked to that way. I just can’t imagine what it would feel like to be that nasty to people. She must be miserable.
My heart is thundering, and my body is flushed with heat as we turn our backs on her.
George tosses his head into the air and pulls me along again. “God, that woman is repulsive. I have half a mind to message Felix and tell him how terrible she is.”
We come to a stop at an empty table. Maybe now that I’m full of adrenaline, I might actually do what this was all for: take photos and help promote the hotel.
Admiring all the ballroom tables and finery glowing under the purple-and-blue lights, I try to take as many photos as I can for when the internet is functioning again. I plan to post all night—video reels, story posts. I want to snap anything and everything that can capture someone’s eye, and not just with the party, but the hotel itself.
“Hopefully Vlad shows soon,” I say when I notice the bored look on a few faces.
“Yeah, people seem to be getting antsy.” He points to someone new entering. “I think guests are still arriving? Maybe they are welcoming everyone.”
I turn to take a selfie with George so I can cross tag my posts for better promotion, but my phone pings, and the sound echoes loudly in the ballroom. I scramble to turn it to silent, but the notifications keep coming one after the other and heads start to turn. The internet came back at a horrible time! I glance around sheepishly at the guests in silent apology. George finds us a quiet spot in a back corner of the ballroom so we can both check our phones and camp out for Vlad to show.
George gasps. “Oh my goodness,” he exclaims, staring down at his phone. “That is the sweetest thing!”
