Chapter Text
It was about time Lollie got back to business.
Her long-overdue playdate with Clover had ended with a drink that she most definitely needed to brave whatever bullshit the Vee’s had planned for later, the two sinners sipping sweet wine while they cleaned up the utter mess that was the bunny’s bedroom. Clover had complained about it the whole time, of course, but the scarlet dress shirt that had tumbled out of the sheets when they’d turned them back had done a pretty good job of shutting her up long enough for Lollie to get the girls’ closet in order. They lunched on pizza Clover had insisted she pay for- the poor sinner who walked it up to their door shaking his sneakers like he’d expected the devil himself to answer the door, but the healthy tip Lollie had handed over alongside her signature scrawled onto the back of the receipt seemed to perk him right up.
It was well into the afternoon before Lollie found the strength to pry herself from the sanctuary of the sofa, the old-fashioned clock sitting unwound on Clover’s wall mocking her with its stillness until she’d finally opened her phone to check the time. Going back home to see what Niffty might have pilfered from her clothing piles wasn’t going to happen, not if she wanted to make it to the Vee’s tower in time to spruce up before meeting with the men upstairs- which meant she needed to get a wiggle on so she’d have time to swing by Velvette’s on the way up to see what there was to wear off the rack for work tonight or else rely on whatever she’d squirreled away in her locker at the club.
So, with a box of leftover pizza and a promise to text Clover once she’d gotten where she was going, Lollie hit the pavement. It wasn’t that far to the center of town; Hell, most things weren’t that far from anything, it was part of what made living in Pentagram City so miserable. Squashing a century or two’s worth of sinners into a single ring meant that you saw just about every awful thing it had to offer, all the time- which was probably the point, since the place was meant to be punishment, but that didn’t mean it sucked any less for the sinners who suffered because of mere misdemeanors in a city full of felons.
It was just about the only time Lollie ever liked the little welcome present the Devil, or God, or Mother of Demons, or whoever picked the dark gifts they’d all gotten at the door; It was a lot easier to stomach an eternity of suffering when a little dash of sugar turned the city rose-tinted. Having to keep a stash of candy in every purse and side pocket wasn’t the worst trade off to activate her powers, but it was no cakewalk- it had taken years of trial and error to figure out her dosage, another six months to learn how to manage her diet to compensate for the added calories, and more than one bad trip to learn her limits. Sneaking sugar into just about everything she ate wasn’t nearly as hard as keeping her figure, but it had gotten easier once Hell’s industry had caught up with the land of the living. The 80s had brought aerobics, the 90s diet pills, and then the greatest gift of them all showed up somewhere after the turn of the century. Velvette had barely been an Overlord for five minutes before she was plastering every street corner with the same old superficial nonsense Lollie had grown up with, reminding her of her mother’s constant commentary to anyone who would listen about how they’d inherited her good genes.
That they were so lucky that they never had to take a fall so bad over summer vacation that they’d come back to the city with a new nose.
The itsy bitsy bit of weight Lollie had put on over the Extermination season had not gone unnoticed at her first fitting of the year, and she’d gone home with an entire year’s supply of diet pills stuffed into her purse. She’d spent that entire evening locked in her room with a pint of strawberry sorbet and a bottle of prosecco, watching how the sugar rush made the room spin while she wrung out every ounce of pleasure the box of toys in her closet had to offer as a reminder of how much she fucking loved herself and pushing past the few limits she had so could blame her watery eyes on overstimulation, until she was too high off her own sickly sweet saliva to remember whatever that cockney cunt had said to upset her. Fuck her, men loved something to sink their teeth into, it wasn’t her fault that lesbian hadn’t learned shit from slumming it with Vox and Val the last ten years.
Vee Tower was an impressive monolith to the trio’s power, an attempt to assert their importance over the rest of the population in a tacky display of super-powered peacocking that all came off a little too Malibu meets Miami for Lollie’s taste. It’s neon throbbed technicolor, a blurry mess of bubblegum and blue that set an ache into her skull the longer she looked at it, and Lollie had to focus on the sight of her shoes just to stop the world from spinning. She knew exactly what and who had gotten into Valentino to make him accept that affront to his aesthetic, but how he’d talked Velvette into it was another story. Sure, Vox’s signature cyan gave a nice little pop of color against the pink and purple of the other V’s, but it was the principle of the thing- that bastard acted like he owned the place, when all he’d done is smack his name on the building and funnel all the profit into using it to prove how big his dick was to the rest of the city. The tower had doubled in size in the first two years once Vox had monopolized the business, spouting up from the lot that had once housed the bulk of Valentino’s industry until it had become a tower of biblical proportions, stretching toward the Heavens and somehow outshining the mockery of the divine. Every floor had been filled with innovation for innovation’s sake, and while Lollie wasn’t as stuck in the past as some sinners, even she had to admit it was all a little much.
As if the word “enough” existed in a place like this, or for people like them.
Everything about the Vees was a costly attempt to assert how much better they were than the rest of Hell; The lavish building, the constant push of propaganda, the big parties and grand power plays that ultimately ended up as nothing more than padding for the morning news. The population ate it up, of course, the trio was a constant source of stimulation to distract from eternal suffering, and yet to the other Overlords, that was all they were- a distraction. Vox was the buzzing fly in everyone’s ear, pandering to them all while his partner philandered for profit, and their princess pushed it to the masses. Lollie’s suspicion of just how little the rest of the powerhouses of Pentagram City cared for their practices had solidified once she’d finally managed to meet the voice behind the broadcast, and ever since, she’d learned just how far Alastor’s gift of gab could go. It was no wonder he and Vox had gotten along back in the day, before Vox had inevitably screwed it up- neither of them ever knew when to shut up.
Silence did not exist in Vee Tower, whether it was the boss barking orders or the quick-paced chatter of the corporate drones Vox employed, there was no escaping the constant babble that surrounded anyone who stepped inside.
“Lollie Pops! Great set last night, my boyfriend came home so pent up I could barely swa-”
“I heard there’s a big show in the works. Any comments?”
“Any ideas on when Velvette will release a new love potion? There have been reports of people building up a tolerance for them.”
“How long are you going to make people wait to watch you get railed? It’s been decades!”
“Hello! Miss- uh-”
“Save it, I’m in a hurry.” The loud “crunch” of her lollipop startled the secretary, Lollie chewing on leftovers as she squeezed past the reporters and wannabe starlets to get to the front desk. “Here, give this to the girls in the back. I know they don’t get fed.”
Vox’s new girl- Mandy, or Mina, or something like that- blinked at the box Lollie slid across the counter, the bubbled tips of her lashes brushing the top, overly-blushed cheeks. The secretary grabbed the greasy cardboard with a nervous glance at the cameras set above her desk, their lenses tipped low to catch every fumble or flash of cleavage while the girl worked, and gave Lollie a wobbly smile.
“Oh, this is so nice, but-”
“Babe, it’s just a fuckin’ pizza. Throw it away for all I care, but I’d rather it go to those less fortunate.”
“Right. How can I help you, Miss-”
“Pops. Lollie Pops. And I suggest you start doin’ ya’ homework on those names, it doesn’t look good when the girl doesn’t know the guest list.” Lollie said quickly, her schedule too tight to waste her time trying to teach this fish out of water how to walk on land. “Is Velvette in?”
“She’s with one of the models, but she said not to disturb her.”
“... Which model?”
Bright blue eyes blinked at the question, the tiny white rings that served as her pupils unfocusing from Lollie’s face as she thought. She was an adora-bubble little sinner, Lollie thought; she could see why Vox set her up as the first face you’d see walking through the door. The girl’s fins flicked as she finally came up with an answer, and she said it with a snap of French-tipped fingers that made Lollie smile.
“Melissa, I think.”
“Fuck-”
Lollie’s dramatics dropped her head to the desk, the curl of her bangs cushioning the fall. There was no telling if what was happening in Velvette’s studio was for business or pleasure if her top model was involved, and Lollie was not in the mood to play dolls today. So, she would have to settle with whatever outfit she had squirreled away in the dressing room at the club, or otherwise hope she could sweet-talk one of the other girls out of something adjustable enough to fit her smaller stature- either way, she’d have to ramp up the sugar-sorcery to compensate. She straightened as suddenly as she had swooned, returning her attention to the girl in front of her just in time to catch her side-eyeing the camera in the corner, in between batting lashes at the reporters that had begun to line up behind Lollie, pizza box still in hand.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
This girl was too sweet; she was going to sink, swim, or end up splattered across Valentino’s bedroom wall eventually- the least Lollie could do was give her time to tread water, and hope that she’d learned to float before her thrashing drew too much attention.
“I’ve got it from here, but if I may-” Lazily unwrapping a fresh lollipop she’d pulled from her bag, Lollie took her time tip-toeing to peek over the top of the desk. The girl, Meera, Lollie learned with a quick squint at her badge, moved immediately to cover the documents strewn across her keyboard, flipping them all facedown until all that showed was the neon-orange bleed of the highlighter she’d slapped across every page- which was cute, but it wasn’t what Lollie was looking for. “You’ve got great legs, it wouldn’t hurt to show them off, and take it from someone who knows a thing or two- Vox doesn’t mind a little meat on a woman. So, in about twenty minutes, when he’s busy, take a break and eat some fuckin’ pizza, ‘kay? You look like a stiff breeze would blow ya’ away.”
Lollie left with a wink, ducking under elbows and dodging wandering hands on her way to the elevator. It greeted her with a pleasant ring as the doors slid open to let out the few other faces allowed to move between the floors of the tower; The attendant didn’t even have to ask where she was going, the old demon regarding her with a lopsided smile before punching in the penthouse security code and ushered out the last of the stragglers so they could make their way up. Cold metal chilled through her cashmere as Lollie leaned back against the wall and quickly dug through the chaos that was her handbag for her lipstick, turning to the shiny silver of the elevator door so she could touch up. Every ding as they climbed upward put another knot into her spine, another kink that would have to be worked out after dealing with whatever nonsense Valentino had gotten stuck on this time. The last time he’d changed something at the last minute, it was because he’d convinced himself that the girls on stage would look so much sexier oiled up- it had taken a proper demonstration for Lollie to get it through his thick skull that slick skin and pole dancing were a disaster waiting to happen. She’d worn boy shorts to work for a week after to hide the bruises, and after a very personal run-through of the script with her atop the oil-coated platform in the practice room, Valentino decided to keep the dripping to the studio.
It had been the last time they’d had sex where she’d really felt something, anything from him. There was no pretense of romance, not anymore, but that was the last thing Lollie wanted from him- but there had been a connection there, a ghost of the chemistry they’d once had reinvigorated by the ridiculousness of the situation. They’d laughed the whole way through, giggling at every squeak of Lollie’s shoulders against the slippery stage and using the extra lubrication to their advantage for hours longer than their normal fast-paced fucking, but it had come and gone before she’d had the time to enjoy it. That was the worst part about being with Valentino; he’d turn it on and off without a second thought, feed a line to reel it in before tossing whoever took the bait back into the water after he’d bragged about the catch. Lollie had learned long ago how to tell the difference between false flattery and authentic affection, but with Val- with Val, it was sometimes too easy to forget how much of a fucking monster he was as long as he was treating you like you were the only person in the room. Any love Lollie had for him had left long before they’d turned their fling into a more casual affair, and she’d sworn off any chances of rekindling it the second she’d seen him for who he truly was, but sometimes it was nice to feel appreciated, even if it was by someone like him.
The sex was nice too, but that was beside the point.
Juggling anything real alongside two-timing for a meal ticket wasn’t in the cards for Lollie. As much as she loved- well, love- it was just never the right time. Life had been a constant slog of struggling to get seen, and death had been no better. Boyfriends lasted as long as a booking, backstage romance burned bright before curtain call and died with the applause. That was just how it was for those who had not yet found fame, either you lived and breathed the business until your big break, or you died looking for it- Lollie had been the latter, which meant that she’d had to start from scratch once she’d gotten back on her feet, and her chances of finding someone to spend eternal ecstasy dropped from slim to none overnight. There was no time to waste chasing after the men left over from those who’d come before her when there was a new ladder to climb.
Lollie could only hope, as foolish as her friends thought it was, that her lack of luck finding love in Pentagram City meant that there were bigger and better things waiting for her outside the sea of sinners she’d been drowning in for decades.
Scarlet smoke leaked into the elevator before it even opened, spilling from the open door into Valentino’s penthouse, into the hallway, and Lollie swiftly vacated the compartment to save the poor sinner stuck inside from its effects. It stroked what little of her skin it could reach, wispy tendrils drifting over her arms like a lover and filling her lungs with pheromones. The sucker between her teeth shattered, its stick tossed over her shoulder to be picked up by the robotic maids standing guard at the door. The wrapper of the next piece she popped into her mouth joined it, its sour apple setting an ache into her jaw that ate through the pleasant paralysis spreading across her skin. Every breath pushed more of Valentino’s scent into her bloodstream, the coercive carcinogens already beginning to blur the lines of reason as Lollie swayed into his living room and found him spread across the couch, knees wide and head tipped low in concentration. The sound of a pen scrawling away drew her attention to the notebook in his hands, and she paused to watch him look over his work before crossing it out with a growl. Lollie tossed her purse on the table as she walked past him in favor of the minibar, knowing better than to bother him when he was like this. She poured herself a virgin vodka-tonic while his back was turned and downed the glass to clear her head before making him a little something to take the edge off while she was at it. She snuck a sip before she garnished it, squeezing a bit of lime into the bottom of a clean shaker to be muddled with fresh mint and simple syrup for her second drink while she waited for him to stop scribbling.
Lollie draped herself across the couch behind him, double-checking that her lipstick hadn’t stained the glass she dangled in his peripherals before she gave it a little shake to catch his attention. Another puff of smoke curled around his cheeks as Valentino turned to take it, the cloud of crimson cast away with a wave of her arm as she handed it over, and Lollie squinted through the fog to read what he’d been fussing over. The sketches in the corners of every page caught her attention first, the drawing spanning from technical illustrations of the positions he’d picked out for different parts of the scene to silly little caricatures of the cast. The portrait of Velvette with a rough rendition of a dressing model on the back of the previous page was the only outlier, but the overdone hearts surrounding a stick figure that looked suspiciously like Melissa made Lollie assume they’d been over not long before the girls had snuck away to the designer’s suite. Diverting her attention from the illicit illustrations to skim the note he’d scrawled into the margins, Lollie held back an ugly snort that would have blown bubbles into her beverage. “MORE SEX TOYS, SELL TO THE CHICAS” was not what she’d expected to read, but the further she got into the script, the more sense it made- it was an oddly romantic scene for Valentino, the dialogue littered with diminutives and dirty jokes disguised as casual dinner conversation. Despite its male cast, it felt as if he’d written it with the wants of women somewhat in mind, with its pacing centered on getting Angel Dust off as often as possible before his costar had their big finish. It fell off the further Lollie got into the script, the large scribbles of red ink blurring out the worst of it and cramming changes to the content wherever he could until the letters started to overlap. Her nose wrinkled at the bit he’d not yet managed to correct- or that he’d been happy to leave as is, which was worse- and cringed to the very center of her soul as her eyes skimmed the overdone ego-boost that interrupted the climb to climax. Lollie fixed her face before Valentino could catch her scowling at his work, and purposefully pressed her bust against his back when she leaned over to wiggle her fingers at the offending section.
“Have him say ‘cock’ instead. ‘Thick dick’ can come out kinda’ harsh with Ange’s accent in moments like that- he’ll probably just drop the ‘th’ a few times, it’ll cut down on takes if ya’ change it. Besides, unless you’re writing two meatheads gettin’ it on in the YMCA shower, ‘cock’ is the way to go- It’s sexier, ‘specially if ya’ want girls gettin’ off to it without gettin’ reminded of the first time a guy convinced them to suck ‘em off.”
It was a risk to give any kind of criticism to Valentino, Lollie knew that, and she had the bad memories of icing her ass to prove it- but she wasn’t going to let bad writing go to set if she could help it, especially if it included Angel. Hoping the microdose of her demonic traits she’d slipped into his drink during her taste were enough to curve the edge off his temper, Lollie laid the sugar-coating on as thick as she could; Her cheek pressed into the exposed skin of his throat, feeling the soft sound of contemplation that rumbled in his chest as she slid a hand down the open front of his shirt. Deft fingers found the divots of his ribcage and purposefully danced lower, avoiding the joint where his second set of arms met his sides to settle on that sharp little line that led down to his belt. Valentino’s breath hitched beneath her, and he took his sweet time looking over the script before he huffed a laugh and tossed it to the table.
“Not bad, baby. Look at you, havin’ all these bright ideas and helpin’ out for free. I told Vox there was a reason I kept you around.”
“That and-” Lollie kept her voice soft as she slid her palm up his chest, curling her fingers beneath his jaw to coax his head to rest against the swell of her chest. She couldn’t help but giggle at how stupid he looked, those big bug eyes screwed narrow to better see now that his glasses had slipped down the flat expanse of his face. They sharpened as Lollie leaned over to press her a playful peck to where his nose should have been, and she let him take another drag of his cigarette before she nudged his glasses back to their proper place, just in time for the punchline. “I give great head.”
The air became hazier as Valentino chuckled, and Lollie vacated his vicinity before his coercive carcinogens riled her up too far for her to think. Mixing too much of his seductive smoke with the honeyed high that came from her own powers was fun when she wanted to fuck around without a thought, but whatever he’d called her up here for deserved a clearer head than the one currently screwed onto her shoulders. The thickening fuzz at the edges of her vision faded with a long sip of her drink, the tart taste of her sucker mixed with sour lime twisting the muscles of her jaw while the cold seltzer turned the heat brewing beneath her skin to steam. By the time she’d gotten a grip, Valentino had finished his drink and lounged back onto the couch to scroll on his phone, and Lollie hopped over the back of the couch to sit beside him.
“Speakin’ of,” she continued. “If ya’ wanna cut some of the studio time short, cut the blowjob short. A lotta’ us gals skip that part anyway, and unless you’re gonna focus on Ange’s reactions and have ‘em be real, it’s gonna be a waste of run time. A woman can spot a faker from a mile away, since we’re so used to doin’ it ourselves.”
The only tell that he was even listening to her was the quirk of his brow somewhere in the middle and the soft snort he gave to the last line. One hand had scrolled away on his phone the whole time, Valentino’s attention to the screen undivided even as he dragged her into his lap with another two. Her drink sloshed despite her feeble attempts to keep it stable, spilling sugary seltzer over her fingers as she situated herself atop his thin thighs, and Lollie quickly sucked the stickiness from her skin before he could get any naughty ideas that would expose her sobriety. The sound of her thumb popping from between her lips finally turned his attention away from whoever he’d been texting, scarlet sclera turning towards her long enough for her to use his sunglasses to see if she’d smudged her lipstick before he leaned down to ruin it himself. His cell phone fell to the seat behind her with a soft “thump”, freeing another set of hands to slip beneath the hem of her shirt as the sharp taste of tequila slipped between her lips and sought out the sour candy staining her teeth. Valentino kissed her as he always did; messy, meant only for his amusement, while she fought to keep up with the way he shoved his tongue too far into her throat, yet somehow thrilling enough to keep her entertained. His hands pulled her too close for their current position, causing the waistband of her jeans to dig into the softness in her stomach without allowing her to suck in, the muscles of her core too preoccupied with keeping herself upright when he tugged her head back by her hair so he could talk.
“You’re pretty good at this. Maybe I should finally lock you down, just in case.”
She was lucky that he was dumb, or maybe he’d realize the shudder that his words had sent through her was from disgust, not desire.
“Of what? I don’t even make you pay a penny for my thoughts, you know I’ve got no interest in that side of the industry. Besides, I’d hate to be the girl who steals Angel’s spotlight.”
“You wouldn’t, don’t worry.”
Lollie was beginning to regret that she’d started this conversation, gritting her teeth at the gut-punch he’d given back to her and wiggling her way out of his grasp before he could notice. He was just so fucking casual about it all, from the mention of getting her in contract to the way he brushed off the idea that she’d ever be able to compete. Even if she’d never in a million years want the type of exposure Angel had, it still stung to be shoved aside by someone as shitty as Valentino. Swallowing down the sour taste he’d put into her mouth with a long sip of her drink, Lollie took the first opportunity to remove herself from his person; Her glass dripped condensation onto her jeans as she looked between the two nearby tables, humming in false contemplation as she tried to decide which was easier to reach. She chose the side table behind her, making a show of stretching her arm out to set down her glass on the coaster someone had left behind, and Lollie gave a soft little shriek when she leaned just far enough to send her tumbling off his lap. The arm she’d purposefully landed on removed itself with an annoyed insectoid squeak, only to slip its way under her again seconds later, shoving its elbow into the small of her back so she’d lift enough for Valentino to grab his phone from beneath her. He waved off her apologies with a limp wrist and returned his attention to his texting. The stale silence that followed drove those pins back into her spine, and just when she’d started to wonder whether this was better than passing the time until he got to the fucking point of this rendezvous, that damn cigarette found its way back between his teeth, and she decided keeping Valentino’s mouth busy was more important than her comfort.
“So-” The sharp clack of her sucker being shoved into the leftover ice in her glass earned her a twitch of his antenna, but nothing more, the warmer tones of his skin sucked dry by the glaring blue of his cell-phone screen. It dulled the deep shadows beneath his hat, making what little allure the stupid thing allowed him utterly moot, and worst of all, did nothing to hide that he hadn’t spared her a single glance. “What’s happening? V made it sound real serious, but you know I can never tell with him.”
“We’ve just decided to make some creative decisions, a couple of changes for next month’s performance- Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, promise!”
“What changes?”
And like he’d been waiting in the wings for his cue, it was then that the bastard decided to walk in the door.
Vox stopped almost as suddenly as he’d entered the room, all sharp lines and broad shoulders that squared themselves once he realized there was more than one sinner sprawled across Valentino’s sofa.
“Oh, you’re already here.” There were no faux showman smiles from him for her sake; Vox had left those long in the past, once he’d realized the Lollie wasn’t just another schmuck he could get to sign without a second thought, and she preferred it that way. There was only room for one two-faced bitch in this building, and between the two of them, Lollie had the angles for it. Vox’s gaze flickered over her form, lingering on where Valentino’s extra hands had absentmindedly gripped into the curve of her thigh, before he turned his attention to Valentino and said, “Have you told her yet?”
“I was getting to it!”
Not one to take getting talked about like she wasn’t keeping Vox’s favorite toy warm for him, Lollie sat herself up with a soft sigh and swung her legs off Valentino’s lap. He handed over his now-empty drink to her with a tap of her nails to the bottom of the glass, her silent offer to make him another regarded with an easy smile after he’d finished his text and finally set down his phone. The lack of buzz from the device hanging limply from Vox’s hand solved the mystery of who had been keeping him so distracted. She’d have to swing by the store on the way home and hope they had something good enough to keep Angie off her ass, otherwise she was sure she’d spend the evening with a bed full of pissed off pretty boy- which would have sounded like a dream in other circumstances, but sadly, Lollie wasn’t that lucky.
The bar cart was becoming crowded, and yet another glass joined the mix when Vox accepted her half-offer of a raised bottle with a sideways shrug that she’d learned meant “yeah, sure, whatever” after many unfortunate years of interacting with him. His tastes were the easiest to expect; Vox was as much a man of his era as she was a woman of hers. She mixed his Old Fashioned first, unwilling to rinse the cocktail shaker from the first round and instead settling on whatever drink she could make stirred before moving on to the fun, fruitier refreshments. Hiding a virgin with six sets of eyes watching her every move was far riskier than making her earlier mocktail had been, her watered-down Paloma marked with the lipstick stained stick of her sucker to keep it separate from the double she poured for Val before she walked it over. He took it with no complaints, wrapping his tongue around the rim to suck off the sugar with a wink that did little to wipe the sour expression off Vox’s face. The TV had tapped his foot the whole time, counting down every second it took her to pour like he was paying her for it, and Lollie had had just about enough of it.
“Val, just lay it on me. I’m a big girl, you know I can take just about anything ya’ throw at me,” she said, handing Vox his drink and clinking her glass with his before adding with a wink, “You too, V.”
Vox’s screen rippled at the implication, and Lollie hid how pleased she was with a long sip of her Paloma. Lollie truly didn’t know what was funnier; That he twitched every time she mentioned the little three-way she and Val had talked him into, or the knowledge that she’d shown him her hand and he’d not thought twice to look at the cards, too caught up in her coy little copy-cat of the only other demons she’d ever seen him go crazy for. Her transatlantic had been too rusty to come out to play, sadly, but it had been entertaining to bait him into promoting his own prowess, nonetheless.
It had been a real shame she’d decided against wearing red that day, but- C’est la vie.
“We’re going in a new direction.”
The eyes she’d felt through every camera that day met hers from over the rim of his glass, one brow ticked upward while he waited for her response to the same cookie-cutter bullshit she’d heard a thousand times before.
“Vox, you know I speak showbiz- just be straight with me.”
“Angel is headlining the showcase, not you.”
Lollie didn’t know what was worse: the reality of what he was saying, or the fact that he’d fucking smiled when he said it.
“You’re cutting me?”
She turned to Valentino so quickly she felt her spine crack, the nervous edge she’d had since he’d called this morning finally settling into a blind panic that poured out in a jumbled mess of syllables she hoped made sense.
“En serio? Después de todo el trabajo que hemos puesto en esto?”
“Cariña,” Valentino crooned, putting on that too-sweet, saccharine excuse for sympathy that made her want to knock his teeth in. “Está hecho.”
“No podemos hablar de esto?”
“Will you two speak fucking English?” Vox snapped, and it took every ounce of restraint Lollie had left not to roll her eyes at his never-ending nagging.
“I got it-”
That was the only warning Lollie had before her arm was nearly wrenched from its socket, the muscles in her hand going slack as Valentino dug his fingers into her wrist and pulled until her platforms barely touched the floor.
It was like the room had gone cold, the languid warmth of liquor and lust turning to ice in her veins. Somewhere, far away from the place he’d put her in, the sound of shattering broke through the ringing in her ears and for a second Lollie wondered how hard the damp stain spreading across her stomach was going to be to clean out of cashmere.
“Are you arguing with me?” There was none of that cloying coyness to him now; Valentino’s voice was level, painstakingly measured as he slipped a hand back into her hair and pulled, forcing her to meet his eye as she struggled to speak between the spasming muscles of her shoulder.
“No, Val- I’m sorry, I just-”
“I’m doing you a favor by letting you in on this at all, and you have the fucking nerve to be ungrateful? Don’t you ever forget that I can end your career in a second, I don’t care how sweet you are, or how fun you are to fuck. If I wanted to, all I’d have to do is say the word, and there won’t be a booker left in the city that’ll look twice at your perky little ass. So you either shut up, smile, and shake your tits, or you can march right back to where I found you- hopping from bar to bar, hanging off any man who will buy you a drink and sucking dick for a place to sleep. Understand?”
That’s not how we met, and you know it, Lollie grit her teeth against the thought, willing the quiet rage that burned deep within her to smother itself until she could get the fuck out of here.
“Yes, sir.”
Her feet were back on the floor the second she’d said it, Valentino dropping back onto the couch to nurse his drink with a satisfied smirk that made her regret not spitting into his drink before she’d handed it to him. Maybe then he would have been able to pretend that he wasn’t a massive prick long enough for her to talk some sense into him, play sweet enough that he’d consider letting her and Angel co-headline the show- even Vox wouldn’t have been able to argue that the combined fanbase for the faces of both sides of Valentino’s industry would pull a pretty profit. It was pointless to plan for an opportunity that had already passed, no matter how much the possibilities haunted her every thought as she stood stuck between a bastard and his boy toy, wondering how the fuck she was going to fix this.
“So,” she began. “When can I meet up with Ange to show him the choreography? You won’t even have to change the pitch for him to sing it, easy peasy.”
“What you were doing before just wasn’t working, we need you to choreograph new numbers for you and Angel.”
The shattered remnants of the glass cracked beneath Vox’s heel as he strolled past, blurring Lollie’s vision blue as he dropped himself onto the couch in front of her and tossed an arm over Valentino’s shoulders. Lollie almost snorted at the display, rolling her lips together to hide how her tongue dipped into the divots of her molars in search of the last sticky bits of sugar stuck to her teeth, and smacked on the sweetest smile she could muster in response.
“I wasn’t the one who choreographed his number, just mine.”
“Well, if you can’t do it,” Vox said, his voice dropping into that annoying echo he turned on whenever he wanted to remind someone who was boss. “We’ll find someone who actually works for us who can.”
“And when do I need these new routines organized by, sir?”
And like the good little yes man he was to Vox’s bullshit, Valentino chimed in-
“Tomorrow night, I’ve got Angel doing back-to-back shoots. Lucky you, huh?”
“Like a rabbit’s foot,” Lollie replied, popping every consonant against her teeth so Vox would hear her, loud and clear. The television flickered at every corner, Vox’s eyes narrowing over the rim of his glass, and she relished the uncomfortable little shift he gave at the phrase. She plucked her purse from where it had toppled over on the table, pretending to rifle through the pockets while she talked so she wouldn’t have to look at him a moment longer. “Send me what songs we’re doing, and I’ll have something to show by this time tomorrow.”
“It’s nothing personal, just-”
“Showbiz, right?”
“Good girl.” Valentino purred before turning to Vox to add with a smirk. “Don’cha love when a slut knows their place?”
“Oh, Val, you know I do.”
Glasses clinked, and Lollie took her cue to leave. She popped the first bit of candy she found in her purse into her mouth, breaking through candy coated bubblegum with a snap that neither of them noticed, the two of them too busy joking over her sex life like the only dick she’d gotten in the last six months didn’t make up half of their personalities. The elevator couldn’t come quick enough, every second she stood waiting for it in the hallway listening to them laugh over the drinks she’d made for them bringing that simmering upset in her stomach to a rolling boil that no amount of bubble blowing could get rid of.
And worst of all, after all of this, she still had to work tonight.