Chapter 63: One Must Educate Themselves on Chuck Taylors as Well as Louboutins

Octavia’s life changed overnight. Or in one afternoon.

After Raemon left, Octavia, Gracie, and Sierra went off to spend the day hanging around town, browsing through stores, seeing a movie, and getting smoothies.

Originally, only Octavia and Gracie were planning to make the trip—Sierra wouldn’t have dreamed of joining them.

But when Raemon Kentworth forced Octavia to take his black bank card, Sierra suddenly discovered a desire for her housemate’s company.

She insisted on going along with them because she and Octavia just didn’t spend enough time together, and after all, they were soooo close…right?

Following an afternoon of Raemon-sponsored consumerism, with Octavia and Sierra clashing over which stores to go to and Gracie looking bored, Yosef dropped them at the front door of a high-rise apartment building uptown.

The building had something like a concierge present who welcomed them, calling Octavia by name while ushering them all to the elevators.

They rode the elevator to the top floor in awed silence while their tour guide prattled on about the building’s many, many amenities.

There was more jaw-dropped silence once they actually entered the apartment. The place was spacious and full of expensively decorated rooms.

It had four large bedrooms that all came with amazing views, a balcony overlooking the city, a solarium with a library in it, and other luxurious features.

The entire place was furnished. The fridge and pantry were stocked with food. The bathrooms’ caddies held all kinds of shampoos and bodywashes, the vanity drawers filled with products.

Pretty much every object from the girls’ previous apartment was now located in its appropriate spot in their new home.

Even their rooms were already unpacked for them, though Octavia’s clothes were now clean, hung, and folded in her immense walk-in closet.

She noticed a number of items in her closet that she had never seen before. They weren’t anything Sierra had purchased either.

Apparently, not only did Raemon arrange to have her things transferred and her laundry washed and folded but he also paid someone to fill in the empty spaces of her wardrobe with new, high-end clothing items.

She supposed the gigantic closet had seemed a little bare with the paltry number of items she owned, even if her old closet had always been overstuffed with them.

The weeks that followed were a disoriented blur. A decorator showed up claiming that the whole place would be redone to fit Octavia’s taste.

Sierra pleaded for a boho-chic rustic style. Octavia informed her housemate she had no idea what any of those words meant.

In the end, the decorator surmised from Octavia’s various quirky possessions that a bright, colorful, maximalist aesthetic would be best.

Octavia got her turquoise, lavender, and yellow room, Sierra got her rustic-boho bedroom, and the rest of the house was redone in pastel colors but with colorful, quirky and boho touches here and there.

Also, Gracie somehow subtly moved in. She began taking one of the extra bedrooms when she stayed over.

She’d casually enter and leave when she wanted as she had in their previous apartment; Octavia had given her a key to the place anyway.

Although she left for work and occasionally made an appearance at her family’s home to let them know she was still alive, Gracie more or less became a resident of the apartment.

“Don’t your parents worry about you?” Octavia asked her friend once.

Gracie scoffed. “Of course not. There are a hundred people living in my house right now, and I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman from an immigrant household.

“At this point, they’d be happy for me to be spending the night somewhere else, hopefully with a boy. Anything to increase the chance of there being a marriage.”

“Isn’t the marriage supposed to come before the sleepovers?”

“Ordinarily. But desperate times…”

Octavia had the master bedroom on one end of the house while Sierra took one of the other three rooms on the other end of the apartment. Gracie claimed the third.

With their increased square footage, it was almost like they each had their own separate apartments. Given how crazy Octavia’s life became, perhaps it was for the best.

Everything about her daily routine changed. She now had to be driven to work. Every morning, Yosef was parked outside her building.

Once she stepped out of the revolving glass doors, she hopped right into the dark SUV with its tinted windows, and he drove off, leaving little to no opportunity for any prying photographer to get a picture of her.

Thankfully, her work life didn’t change. She had been worried people at Icarus would treat her differently knowing she was, to put it delicately, “banging the boss.”

But no one acted differently.

Probably because all the employees were much too busy with the immense workload leading up to the launch of new Icarus-Curie products to waste precious seconds gossiping about the CEO’s new girlfriend.

Raemon himself was as professional and aloof as ever—except when the two of them were alone. And Adelaide had already been hostile, so there was no change there.

From Quentin, Octavia had expected some dramatic reaction, but even there she was wrong.

“We need to go over the design verification data for the laptop model hardware today,” were Quentin’s first words to her once she got back to work.

“Okay…,” Octavia said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I believe so.” Quentin frowned. “Why? Is there something else I should mention to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know…,” Octavia said, “don’t you have anything to say about a certain new development in the relationship of…certain people?”

Quentin broke into a grin. “Oh, yes. How ridiculous of me, I almost forgot.” He cleared his throat. “Gracie and I are dating.”

Octavia frowned.

“I know that. And no, that’s not what I was talking about. Aren’t you going to say something about a certain article that appeared in the tabloids recently? About a certain someone? You know…me and Raemon?”

“Oh that,” Quentin said, “what about it? It was pretty obvious you two are a thing.”

“What?! How could you tell?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like it was obvious to everyone. I’m just exceptionally perceptive.” He placed a hand on his chest.

“A man knows these things, Octavia. Especially one privileged enough to be aware of masculine emotions. Raemon Kentworth is not the kind of man to behave toward anyone as he does with you.”

Octavia considered his words, then shrugged. “I did blackmail him.”

“You what?”

“Not important. Anyway, let’s go back to the you-and-Gracie thing,” Octavia said. “I have to give you the speech: Gracie is my best friend. You hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, she’d probably kill you first honestly…but I’d bring you back from the dead and kill you again.”

Quentin was shaking his head.

“Not my Gracie. If I messed up, she’d shrug it off and forget my existence. Then probably go on to invent some incredible piece of technology, earn millions, and leave my poor, lonely self behind.”

“You’re right. Damn, it’s only been a few weeks of you two knowing each other and you already really know her.”

“Understandably.” He sighed. “I am in love.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “Are you being serious?”

Quentin nodded dolefully. “I’m as serious as the black plague.

“Out of all the women…and men…I’ve dated—not that there are terribly many of them, just a normal amount—but out of all the people I’ve known, Gracie is the most incredible, endearing, delightful person of my acquaintance.”

“Delightful? Gracie?”

“In her own way, of course. Her dry sense of humor. Her detached air. Her cool, eternally bored demeanor is just…” His voice faded into a wistful sigh.

“She enchants me. Gracie is the queen of my heart.”

Octavia bit back a laugh. “Careful she doesn’t hear you saying that. She’s not a huge fan of passionate confessions of love.”

“But that’s my thing,” Quentin said, “I can’t help but express how I’m feeling.”

“Or doing it with numerous, flowery words,” Octavia observed.

“Exactly! I know very well I’m a bit of a drama queen. But Gracie gives me the perfect balance. I swear the woman wouldn’t be fazed by anything.”

“She wouldn’t,” Octavia agreed. “Have you told her any of this? In fewer words, hopefully?”

“No,” Quentin answered, “I’m terrified.”

“She might feel the same way,” Octavia ventured. “In the very least, she wouldn’t laugh in your face.”

Quentin’s face fell. “I’d prefer it if she did. At least it would be something.

“I cannot bear the thought of that calm, unperturbed face turning those eyes that I’ve fallen in love with and placing their cool, impassive gaze on me at the expression of my admiration.”

“Wow,” Octavia remarked, “you’ve got it bad.”

But she barely had time to allay Quentin’s fears. She had her own non-relationship to worry about.

Raemon’s money and power couldn’t save her from scrutiny. For one thing, every woman (and some men) within the city took it upon themselves to write Octavia all kinds of hate mail.

However, this was a tad hard to do, considering there wasn’t a single email address or social media account available for them to direct their rage.

They mostly ended up posting on public forums such as “I Heart Raemon Kentworth” and “We Stan Raemon FOREVER!!!”

Octavia stumbled upon one such page and immediately called Gracie over to take a look.

They spent hours scrolling through all kinds of comments—everything from acidic commentary on her imagined image to violent threats to her life.

Both Octavia and Gracie found the comments rather funny, and they rated them on their originality, form, and grammar (most were lacking in all three categories, sadly).

Then Octavia had a brilliant idea. She hacked into the biggest of these fan accounts and added a few lines of her own code.

For the next five days, ardent Raemon fans were baffled when all their carefully worded hate comments were transformed into praise once they hit the “post” button.

Even the moderators couldn’t figure out how “whore,” “slutty,” and “trampy” appeared on the page as “queen,” “awesome,” and “super-duper-fly.”

And the glitch only got worse, seemingly spreading to other forums at light speed. Eventually, the fans gave up, and the hate comments stopped coming in—it just wasn’t worth it.

But Octavia’s troubles were far from over. Though she was safe within the walls of the Icarus Tech building, once she stepped outside, the cameras were waiting.

Raemon didn’t see a need to skulk around, and he didn’t expect Octavia to either—when she was with him at least.

He had security ensure that the paparazzi never got too close to either of them.

But every time they were out for lunch or dinner or just walking across the street, there would be some picture captured by a far-off lens that would be circulating the next day.

It was what everyone was waiting for.

Picking apart the women Raemon Kentworth dated was a favorite hobby of the media. Once some image of Octavia became available, they wasted no time gleaning all the information they could on her.

Hosts of celebrity gossip shows would sit down in their brightly lit studios in glee, ready to dive into the juicy topic of Raemon’s new girlfriend—Rae’s Bae, they were calling her.

“Raemon Kentworth, the tech billionaire, is our topic of discussion today. Brace yourself ladies—he’s taken!” some lady dressed to the nines with bright-red nails, glossy hair announced to an oddly-enthusiastic studio audience.

“Aw, hell nah!” her co-host snarled. Another glamorous, classy lady, but with an accent that assured viewers she was just like them.

“Yes,” the host replied solemnly.

“He’s definitely off the market. A couple of weeks ago a picture surfaced of him and his new lady vacationing in Europe. Now they’ve made it official by appearing in public and everything.”

“Well, can you blame him? Lila Scott is so pretty,” the co-host said.

“No, Deedee,” the host said, “it’s not Lila Scott.”

“…It’s not?”

“No. Raemon Kentworth isn’t with Lila Scott. He’s with Octavia Wilde.”

For the first time in her long career, Deedee didn’t have a reaction ready to the host’s words. She blinked, trying to recall a face to put to the name “Octavia Wilde.”

“Uh…is she an…actress?” Deedee asked. “A model? A socialite?”

“None of the above. She works with him at—”

“OHHHH! So she WORKED with him, huh? More like she worked ON him, if you know what I’m sayin’!” Deedee clapped her manicured hands.

“I see these hoes out there! They come in as the coffee girl one day, and the next day—after putting in some hours AT NIGHT—they’re promoted to secretary. Dirty little slut!”

The audience fell over themselves in laughter at Deedee’s plausible explanation.

“Actually…she didn’t work for him. She works with another company that partners with him. She’s employed by Curie Chip Technology.”

Deedee paused.

“Oh…was she their coffee girl or something?”

“No. She’s the lead software designer for the Curie company.”

“Oh please, whatevuh. Software designer my ass. Anyone can claim to be that. Does she even have a college degree?”

“Yes. Actually, she does.”

“From where? Some defunct liberal arts school in the middle of nowhere, I’ll bet.”

“From MIT actually.”

“As in…THE…MIT?”

“That’s the one. She graduated with a double major in Software Engineering and Mechatronics.”

Deedee could only sit there in dumbfounded silence while the audience dutifully sounded out their hushed “oohs” and “aahs.”

“She was top of her class,” the host continued, “stellar GPA all through, winner of several scholarships and awards.

“She even worked at Alta Solutions, that million-dollar company? Yeah, she was their top developer.”

“Well,” Deedee said, “good for her…but…but…maybe she tricked him into sleeping with her or something?”

The audience responded with a collective gasp.

“YES,” Deedee exclaimed, getting back into her groove. “I’ll bet she’s the typical temptress. Seduction just oozing out of her pores!”

“Let’s look at some pictures, shall we?”

A large screen lit up with pictures of Raemon and his new “bae.”

Both the host and co-host stared at the first picture in silence.

“Um…is that…a hoodie…she’s wearing?” Deedee finally voiced.

“…Looks like it…”

“Those are some…uh…bright-colored socks too.”

The picture changed.

“Hmm…well…that’s, um, an interesting shirt.”

“Is that a kid’s cartoon on it or something?” Deedee asked, staring at the image incredulously.

“It’s anime!” a helpful member of the audience shouted. “From ~Dragon Ball Z~.”

“Her shoes are….a really…bright blue.”

“Yes. Those Chuck Taylor–inspired shoes.”

The picture changed again.

“There’s those Chuck Taylor shoes again.”

“Of course, these ones are yellow.”

“…Well…clearly,” Deedee started, “…this woman has just got her claws dug into Raemon Kentworth’s skin. I mean look at her. Obviously, she tricked him into falling for—” Deedee abruptly stopped.

She peered harder at the screen, then said, “What is happening with her face in this picture? Is she…is she sneezing?”

The picture changed. It showed Raemon handing a tissue to his new bae.

“I think so. Well, what do we think? Is this just another tramp in the long line of gold diggers that Raemon has had?”

Neither her co-host nor the audience could quite think of a response.

Ordinarily, they’d make fun of the fact that her Versace dress was from the last season or that her Michael Kors bag didn’t match her shoes.

But it was clear from the pictures that “Rae’s New Bae” wasn’t really Versace material.

In another time, they would have ridiculed the “bae” for trying to look sexy when she stood next to him.

They would have pointed out her apparent lowliness and desperation based on whatever action she did.

Whether it was sipping a glass of lime water at a ritzy restaurant (that Raemon had probably flown her across the country to).

Or stepping out of a fancy spa in expensive shoes (that Raemon had obviously bought—because no way could that broke-ass hoe afford Louboutins).

But none of their usual talking points seemed to apply, and they were having a hard time coming up with new ones that worked for this particular situation.

“Well…she’s definitely…smart.”

“She’s not his usual type,” Deedee admitted.

“Do you think it will last?”

“Uh…well…honestly…I don’t know what to think.”

“Me neither. I’m not sure what’s going on…”

Such were the difficulties surrounding that confounding topic of “Rae’s Bae.”

Had Octavia tuned in to such programming, she would have been comforted to know that in the aftermath of the discovery of Raemon Kentworth’s new lady, she wasn’t the only one in completely uncharted territory.