D A M A G E D • HS

49

I find the room, and raise my fist, knocking on the door in the specific pattern Miller showed me yesterday.

I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet waiting for someone to answer the door. I know for a fact there's people inside.

Miller called me about forty minutes ago screaming his head off about how I was late, and everyone was already at the penthouse getting ready.

The door opens, Miller stands, blocking the entrance with a pointed look. I almost laugh at how fucking ridiculous he looks right now in a tailored blood red suit, shiny black oxfords, and beach blonde short hair.

"Look who finally decided to show the fuck up." He seethes clearly still mad that I'm late.

"You can't expect me to take you seriously when you look like you walked straight out of a Barbie magazine." I chew on my bottom lip, fighting back my smile.

Miller raises his middle finger, flipping me off. "Fuck you, Arlo. Just get inside."

I roll my eyes, and step inside. Miller shuts the door, and guides us towards the living room where a group of people I don't recognize hecticly staunter around getting people ready.

"She's here." Miller announces, shooing me further into the chaos.

"Finally, come, come, sit in the chair. I need to get you ready." A middle aged lady with midnight black hair, and striking blue eyes snaps her fingers at an empty chair.

I huff, stauntering towards the chair, plopping down. The lady begins to circle the me. I feel her icy eyes burning into my skin.

I feel her long black stiletto nails run across the width of my hair, causing my shoulders to tense.

"You have such long hair. Hiding the fact that you're going to be wearing a wig will be difficult," she stops in front of me, and fluffs out the hair around my face. "but not impossible."

She picks up a hair brush, and a bottle of gel, and begins to brush my hair, smoothing it down at the same time.

I do my best not to focus on the feeling of her hands, and try to focus on something else. I open the folder that I brought with me to study more on the undercover identity I'm going to play for the night.

Emma Cardwell, seventeen, born and raised in New York City, the sister of Edgar Cardwell, who is her legal guardian after their father died when she was ten, and their mother ran away with a older rich man when she was fourteen.

It seems simple enough, I know that I have an easier identity since I'm only playing as a plus one. I don't have to worry about medical talk, or shit like that, but that means I'm the one who has to scope out the ring, and I'm the one who has to steal it.

I guess I really didn't get all that lucky.

"Chin up." The lady tuts, nudging my chin with her finger. I roll my eyes, and huff. "You have such negative energy."

I narrow my eyes at the lady, scoffing. "Shocker." I reply plainly.

"Hmmm." She hums, placing a wig cap over my slicked back hair that she quickly braided without me even noticing. "It's not the type of negative that makes people drive away like you want though." She continues. "It's an energy that makes people wonder why."

I remain quiet, unsure of how to respond. Her words undoubtedly ring true in some type of way, like with Alli and Nini. I used to try so hard to make myself so unbearable to be around with the hope that they would leave me alone to suffer, but they never did, if anything it drew them in closer, pressing me harder for answers that they knew they would never get.