Chapter 56: Crazy Bitches Have Impeccable Fashion Sense

Octavia was awakened by a faraway buzzing noise. In her dreams, she had been standing on top of a 500-story building that was on fire.

Lucas stood some distance away from her, holding out his hand and asking her to take it. Down below, she could see Raemon, yelling for her to jump—he’d catch her.

There might have been some deeper psychological meaning to this, but since Lucas had started singing a jazz song and doing the chicken dance, Octavia decided to blame it on the appetizers of the previous night’s event.

The dream ended when a choir of golden candlesticks appeared and started singing backup for Lucas. Their singing soon turned into a buzzing sound, like a swarm of bees. That was when Octavia awoke.

She blinked, waiting for her vision to come into focus. Her eyes felt dry with a dull burning sensation coating her eyelids.

She realized she’d slept with her contact lenses in. Octavia silently groaned, then attempted to get up.

Attempted because when she moved, she realized there was a thick pair of arms circled around her. A panic gripped her before she recognized Raemon’s soft, even breathing.

Slowly, she extricated herself from his grasp. It was easy enough to slide out from the silk sheets, but once she was out of the bed, the cold air hit her naked body.

“Dammit,” Octavia said, searching the room for her clothes.

She saw her jumpsuit in a heap on the floor but continued to look around. Through the bathroom doors she spied a pair of thick, fluffy robes. Better.

Octavia took one last glimpse of Raemon before she left the room. He was still in the position he’d been with his arms around her.

She watched as he dozed peacefully. Even in deep sleep, he looked gorgeous. He didn’t even snore.

Octavia followed the buzzing sound to the kitchen of the penthouse. A phone was lying on one of the counters. She picked it up and answered without thinking.

“Hello?” Octavia’s voice mumbled.

“…Hello? Who is this?” Adelaide said.

Not being a morning person, Octavia wasn’t in a clear frame of mind. She didn’t recognize Adelaide’s voice.

“Who is this?” she said. She held the phone with one hand and tried to slide a contact lens out of her eye with the other.

“Octavia?” Adelaide said as if she couldn’t believe what she heard.

“Yes,” Octavia replied. “Aha! It’s out.” She held the clear disc to the light triumphantly.

Adelaide began stammering. “…What…what are doing answering Mr. Kentworth’s—?” She stopped. “Where is Mr. Kentworth?”

“Asleep,” Octavia answered, now working on the other lens.

“But…how do you…know?”

Having removed both contact lenses, Octavia realized she probably should have found her glasses first. She trotted through the rooms, searching for her purse through blurry eyes.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, “where is it?”

“What? Hello? Where is what?”

“My purse.”

“But—why?”

“’Cause my glasses are in there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I took my contacts out but don’t have my glasses, so now I need my purse to get my—yes! Here it is.”

“Octavia,” Adelaide said sharply, suspicion in her voice. “Where are you?”

Octavia unfolded the bright-red, polka-dotted frames and slid them onto her face.

“I’m in the living room…I think,” she said, blinking as she surveyed the room. “I can’t tell with these places.”

“Where is Raemon?”

“I told you. He’s asleep. Didn’t I tell you?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why? Any person can sleep.”

“Not Raemon.”

“Well, he’s sleeping now, I’m sure of it.”

“So where are you?”

“In the living room, I guess.”

“Your location!” Adelaide fairly snapped. “Where are you in the city?”

“Oh!” Octavia said. She stumbled back to the kitchen. “You know? I’m not sure of that either.” She opened the fridge and searched the interior before pulling out a carton of orange juice.

“Why did you answer Raemon’s phone?” Adelaide demanded.

“Because the candlesticks were singing, and it was buzzing so much,” Octavia said. She took a swig of juice straight from the carton.

Adelaide could only give an exasperated sigh.

“Oh—I know,” Octavia said, “I remember where we are. We left the party and went to his penthouse.”

“Which one?”

Octavia was blank. “Uh, the… big one?”

The line was eerily silent for seconds.

“Tell Raemon I called him,” Adelaide said flatly. The line then went dead.

“Goodbye,” Octavia said into the beeping phone. Peering at the screen, she saw that it was nearly noon. The sight of the time seemed to fully wake her from her groggy state.

Octavia sighed as she looked around the room. She couldn’t remember what time they’d slept. Raemon hadn’t been joking about getting himself to first place.

She estimated they’d probably finally slept at 3 a.m.

She tiptoed back into the room. Standing over Raemon’s sleeping body, she smiled. He looked practically angelic when he was sleeping.

She wondered what it would take to wake him from that deep of a slumber. But she’d have to find out another time. It was time for her to head back to her own home.

“Congratulations,” Octavia whispered to his still form, “you’re at the number one spot.”

Octavia hoped she would find an empty apartment on her return.

But she opened the door to see Gracie stretched out on the couch reading a newspaper and Sierra sitting at the table with her fuzzy bathrobe on.

“Hi, guys,” Octavia said sheepishly, edging into the room. She kept a vigilant eye on Sierra, who was staring at her through narrowed eyes and with pursed lips.

“You’re back,” Sierra said coldly.

“Um, yes,” Octavia answered.

“Shut the door,” Gracie said from behind the paper, “there’s a chill.”

Sierra stood, and Octavia was relieved to see there was nothing in her hands. Like a knife.

“Did you spend the night with Raemon?” Sierra asked.

“Um…kind of…”

“Did you, or didn’t you?” Sierra demanded.

“Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Why do you want—”

“Answer the question!”

“Yes! I did.”

“YOU DISGUSTING FUCKING EVIL BITCH!”

Just as Sierra lunged for Octavia’s throat, Gracie shot up and put herself in Sierra’s way. She swiftly rolled up her newspaper and whacked Sierra on the head.

“Enough!” Gracie said sternly. “We talked about this.”

Like a disciplined dog, Sierra’s face fell, and she sulkily retreated back to her seat at the table. Octavia had taken a startled step backward where she watched the two of them in shock.

“Welcome back,” Gracie said, turning to her friend.

“It’s…good to be back,” Octavia said slowly.

“Don’t worry about her,” Gracie said, “most of the tantrum happened last night. That bit was just the last of it.”

“Good thing I didn’t come back last night then,” Octavia muttered.

“I see you just performed the walk of shame,” Gracie said, motioning to Octavia’s wrinkled outfit, the same one she’d worn the night before.

“I may have walked,” Octavia said with a grin, “but I definitely wasn’t ashamed.”

“Oh? Someone have a good time?”

“Good? It was better than good, it was—” Octavia stopped, looking at Sierra. Sierra was glowering at her from her seat.

Gracie observed the two of them. “Sierra, why don’t you go to your room?” she suggested.

“No,” Sierra said. “I want to hear ALL about how my ugly-ass housemate slept with the man of MY dreams.” Her lower lip quivered.

“Tell us, Octavia. What was it like being with him? Even though you KNEW he was MINE. You hear me?! I loved him first! You didn’t even know who he was!”

Octavia watched Sierra dissolve into tears.

“This is the last of it?” she asked Gracie.

Gracie shrugged. “I’m even with you for sending you off with him last night. Imagine dealing with all of that for hours.”

“Stop talking like I’m not here!” Sierra howled.

“I’m sorry, Sierra,” Octavia said, taking a tentative step toward her. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Sierra had her face buried in her hands. She lifted her head to snarl, “You could have said no to him!”

“I could have,” Octavia agreed, “but…I didn’t.”

“Let it go, Sierra,” Gracie added bluntly, “he didn’t even look twice at you. You never had a chance.”

Sierra’s sobs grew louder as Octavia gave Gracie a pointed look.

“Look, Sierra. What Raemon…what Mr. Kentworth and I are doing—it’s just casual,” Octavia said. “When we’re done, he’s all yours.”

Sierra stopped sobbing long enough to give Octavia a withering look. “Don’t try that bullshit on me. ‘Just casual’? Yeah right.”

“I swear it on my entire comic book collection,” Octavia said, a hand at her chest.

“No, it’s not!” Sierra yelled. “Are you blind?! Raemon Kentworth is totally in love with you!”

“What makes you say that?” Octavia said, frowning.

“EVERY GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING THING!” Sierra shouted. “No man would look twice at you, stupid! IF RAEMON KENTWORTH WANTS TO SLEEP WITH SOMEONE LIKE YOU, HE HAS TO BE IN LOVE!”

“He could just be insane,” Gracie supplied.

“Could you try not to enjoy this so much?” Octavia asked Gracie.

Gracie smiled. “I could…but I won’t.”

Sierra relapsed into subdued sniffles. “I should’ve known you’d do this to me,” she said. “You’ve always hated me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, you have!” Sierra fired back, standing. “You and your little friend here. You think I’m dumb just because I wear makeup and heels and stuff!”

“We don’t think you’re dumb because of that,” Octavia said.

“They’re so many other reasons,” Gracie added.

Luckily, Sierra didn’t catch on to the meaning of their words.

“Then it’s because you know things. Like computers and stuff,” Sierra said bitterly. “Because you went to MIT or something…and Gracie can build a satellite from popsicle sticks or something.”

“I certainly could,” Gracie said, “but it wouldn’t work.”

“Sierra,” Octavia said seriously, “you know you’re not exactly the nicest person to either of us.”

Sierra was quiet.

“How about we just call it a truce?” Octavia suggested. “No hard feelings on either side.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Gracie protested. Octavia shushed her.

Sierra stared hard at the pink and blue bubbles printed on her bathrobe, then suddenly looked up to Octavia.

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Oh, she has conditions now,” Octavia commented.

“Let me be your stylist,” Sierra said.

“Excuse me?”

“With your new job, you’ll have big events and parties to go to, right?” Sierra said. “Like the one of last night?”

“Um…maybe.”

“Let me style you!” Sierra said. “I’ll pick out what to wear. Honestly, Octavia, you need all the help you can get. I know you didn’t pick the outfit you wore last night for yourself.”

“She’s not wrong about that,” Gracie said.

“Sierra…I’d love to take you up on that but—”

“Then do it!” Sierra interrupted. “Come on! I need some way to start my business.”

“I thought you already started a business?” Octavia asked.

“Several, in fact,” Gracie said.

“I mean a real business,” Sierra said, “as a professional stylist.”

“It doesn’t get any realer than that,” Gracie remarked.

“Come on!” Sierra urged again. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

Octavia was silent. Eventually, she sighed and shrugged.

“Fine. But no weird, crazy shit.”

A hint of a smile danced across Sierra’s face. “Okay.”

“And NO high heels.”

“Sure. But maybe just like a little heel.”

“No.”

“Kitten heels?”

“NO.”

“A tiny wedge?”

“SIERRA.”

“Fine, fine,” Sierra conceded, “no heels.”

“No makeup either.” At Sierra’s stricken face, Octavia further emphasized her point. “NONE, Sierra. Just clothes. And nothing uncomfortable. Or too sexy. Or too expensive.”

Sierra threw her hands up. “I might as well just cut some holes in a sack and call it a ‘Look’!”

“As long as it’s a comfortable sack.”

“Ugh. Fine. You’re making this difficult, but I’ll make do,” Sierra grumbled. “We can discuss my fee once I’ve drawn up the contract.”

“It better not be something crazy,” Octavia warned.

“Of course not,” Sierra said, “not for you. You’re dating Raemon Kentworth now. What can’t you afford?”

“We’re not dating,” Octavia insisted. “We’re just…oh, forget it.”