52: Fuck my life

SCARLETT

Blake’s arm remained roped through mine when we finally made it past the sea of paparazzi and into the main hall.

The live streaming shows I’d watched of the Moxie fundraiser did it no justice. It was the same venue every year, but some of the places I’d just spotted have never been shown on camera, the entire place was exquisite and flowing with rich people and celebrities I’d never dreamed of seeing this close.

“Blake Vaughn? Who would’ve thought!” A woman in her thirties that could pass as a teenager because of her skimpy dress greeted Blake, ogling him openly.

“Mrs. Chauncey, what a lovely surprise,” he shook her hand then turned to me, “this is Scarlett, a new addition to our family and my esteemed date for the night.”

I reached out to shake her and she scrutinized me with a razor gaze while only shaking the tip of my red manicured nails.

She talked Blake’s ear off, touching his chest at intervals and laughing like he was a stage clown when he barely said anything funny.