Jennifer
I always felt a thrill stepping in front of the crowd. The flash from cameras. The rustle of purses and champagne flutes. Tonight was no different.
Lucian stood behind me, arms folded, suit like armor. The launch was going well, I could feel the momentum. I’d said we’d only drop an edit of what I’d done before, a refined version, something with less grit. People bought it. Devoured it.
But I knew the real victory was still coming. Eloise’s indie dream was unraveling. Her fruit-of-the-soil magic wouldn’t last long. I knew how to manipulate attention. How to control a narrative.
…
The next morning, I met with Kristen Tully, fashion editor at Vogue Noir, at Rise & Grind Café. She’d been calling me for days, squealing about my line’s emotional depth. Perfect!
I parted the vinyl
