Page 4 of Fabricated

I wore a dress in the shade of scarlet. It had a deep V-neck almost to my belly button. Open back, sleeveless, and flared at my waistline.

All the men wore suits. Tucker’s was over the top with gold accents. I didn’t expect anything less from him. Out of everyone, he was the one who called to my soul. Dante wore fitted cigar pants, in a rich khaki, and a white dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to showcase his tanned forearms. Justin wore navy blue with a dinner jacket completely unbuttoned to show off his light blue shirt. His was more casual, but nonetheless striking. Kyler had on khaki pants and white shirt with red suspenders, his wavy hair tumbling to his shoulders. And Branson, God, he was in a black button-up. Top buttons undone at the top. Black fitted trousers with a black belt and laced-up boots. He wore his rings and a watch. Something I noticed I never saw him without. They all seduced the camera with either a smirk, a wink, or a simple smile.

Tori wore a gold maxi dress and was twirling around. Kalisha wore a green jumper that made her hair pop. She smiled at the camera. Natural and real. Josefina wore a fitted orange dress with a high slit. She blew a kiss. Emerald wore a two-piece dress that showed off her belly, her long hair wavy. She had a bright smile on her face.

And then there was me. Who had to redo it at least fifteen times and ended up going with the laughing take which Tucker helped by doing a stupid dance.

When we did the final take of all of us together, acting like we liked each other, they finally said, “Cut.” Everyone’s shoulders dropped as they separated. I’m pretty sure Tori elbowed me as she got up, but I didn’t see her do it. I didn’t even know what her problem with me was.

As I exit the room, I notice several notifications on my phone. Opening it, I pull up Twitter.

@GlitzandGlam: “Our sources have confirmed the mystery girl in the @TuckerAshford video is @RayneMarshall. The only question we have is, is she a new love interest or a new co-star rumored to appear on The Edge of Nobility?”

I click on the thread to read through the replies. Which turns out to be a mistake.

@BeesKnees13: “Probably not a love interest. She’s not pretty enough for my man Tucker.”

@WuzzupCooper: “Why spend more money to support a show that lost its flair four years ago?”

@NoGameLindsey: “Her freckles are so off-putting… I mean, just cover them like everyone else. Ew.”

@PeterPiperPickedCleary: “Where did she even come from? She had like 20 followers an hour ago?”

@LemonadeLilly: “Well I think she’s adorable!

#Racker that hashtag will so be a thing.”

@IllJustSayIt: “Her nostrils look like a train tunnel. Choo-choo!”

Train tunnel?

I frown as I turn down the hallway, not paying attention to where I am going, when someone grabs my elbow and pulls me into a bathroom. My first instinct is to fight. Because anytime someone has pulled me like this, it only leads one way. And I’ll be damned if I’m a victim again. But then I hear his voice. See his eyes. And relax—a little.

“What’s your name?”

I level my glare at him, refusing to look away. “Rayne Marshall.”

His rough hands ghost over my neck. “So innocent, so pure. Why in the world would you change that by being on this show?”

I swallow as his eyes penetrate mine. “Money.”

“Ah,” he smiles. “The world's most evil obsession.”

His hand rests next to my head by the door. He dips down, coming in close. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This place is about to change everything you thought you knew, Darling.” The warning and promise in his voice give me pause as I try to work out what he means by that.

His nose lightly brushes mine, causing an ache in my chest. I can’t tell if he is messing with me by the gentle act. Suddenly, he pushes off the wall, opening the door for me to exit first, leaving me confused and wanting. For what, I have no clue.

The first thing I notice is the cameras, but I don’t look at them. My heartbeat is as loud as my footsteps as I make my way up to my room. When I arrive at my door, I pull my key out and look over my shoulder. Branson winks at me as he enters the door across from mine. A deep blush stains my cheeks as I open my door. There are two bedrooms in every hall.

This apparently is ours.

Chapter 3

@RayneMarshall: “Champagne was practical. Need to forget your problems? Champagne. Need a weapon? Smash the bottle. See? Weapon. Practical.”

Rayne

“This dress is really, really, and I do mean really, short, Rhonda.” Trying to pull the suffocating fabric down, I groan. It’s a baby pink silky dress. It’s short as fuck and tighter than a nun. She laughs, fluffing my super straight hair as I frown at her in the mirror.

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