worldwide || billie eilish

chapter six

A few months passed. I lost count. Billie and I went from enemies to maybe friends to acting like complete strangers. Something happened that day when she tried to take me out to lunch--something I couldn't explain. It was like I had unknowingly been set up to choose between her and Jared, and when I chose Jared, she stopped interacting with me completely. She even avoided walking down the studio hallway when I was there, which I thought was a bit extra.

Jared said the album was coming together great. He told me the release would be soon, and promised that it would hit the tops of the charts, which I thought was more a vow to himself than to me. 

To celebrate what Jared called the "halfway point" in the album's production, we threw a party at our apartment. It was really just friends coming (Jared said he didn't want to embarrass himself by letting any important people see how messy our apartment was).

Except--when I opened the front door I saw a whole crowd of people that weren't our friends. I only recognized on or two of the many faces. I turned around, blocking the doorway with my body, and called Jared's name.

"Baby, who the hell are all these people?" I asked. He came out of the bathroom in jeans and a white tank, tugging at his collar as he walked over to me. When he saw all the people standing outside, his eyes lit up. He pushed me out of the way and waved everyone inside eagerly.

"...Jared?" I said, putting my hand on his arm as strangers filled our apartment. It was mostly dark outside, the sky stained a dark purple-ish color. Wispy grey clouds swirled around the crescent moon, concealing parts of it. 

Jared faced me after welcoming the last of the guests and tilted his head. "What is it, baby? I'm trying to host a party." He chuckled a bit after the last sentence but I could tell her was annoyed with me.

"I just...I thought only our friends were coming? Who are all these people?"

"Well, to be honest, Colette, I don't have a fucking clue," he said flatly. Then he brushed past me and into the crowd of people in our living area.

I swallowed hard and ran a hand over my face.

This was going to be a long, long night.

*

I walked around our apartment and played the role of the polite hostess, helping wasted people to the bathroom and wiping down our coffee table after a group of guys did lines off it. The whole situation with the unknown party guests was irking me, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I plastered on a smile and pretended everything was perfectly fine.

As it neared midnight and more and more guests began to pass out around the apartment, I stepped out to smoke, not on the balcony but on the sidewalk in front of our complex. I fumbled with my pack of Marlboros, trying to block out the sounds of the party.

My boots--old, raggedy leather things (very Kate Moss-esque) that I grabbed because they somewhat matched my skirt--were covered in splatters of beer and other strange party liquids. I finished my first cigarette and crushed them beneath my soles, then lit another one.

Suddenly, a cab pulled on the road a few feet away from me. A gaggle of girls toppled out of it, giggling and chattering loudly, their voices ringing through the somber Los Angeles night. I paid little attention to them, until a petite blonde one tapped me on the shoulder. I glanced over at her--I was five two, bordering on five three, my growth no doubt stunted by all the coffee I was always chugging due to my slight insomnia--and raised a brow. I was in no mood to be bothered by pretty girls.

"Hey," she said, her voice high pitched, breath reeking of bubblegum. "Is this where the party is?"

I nodded slowly, taking a long drag from  my cigarette, trying to show that I didn't intend to start a conversation with her.