Chapter 33: The Fone

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Before she left, Willow had said that dinner was probably ready to start as soon as they got there, so Kim should hurry and get up and get ready and not just lay around in bed.

But: bed.

Kim lingered until the last flickers of Willow's body heat had dissipated from the sheets, and even then the pillow still smelled like her and it was a few minutes before Kim could deal with getting up.

She had approximately one million different thoughts zinging around inside her brain after her conversation with Willow. The first time Kim had been to KKHollywood she'd been literally trapped. But this time everything was different. She wasn't trapped here at all. Or, like, she definitely felt trapped. But she felt trapped between two worlds, trapped between all the different competing expectations people had for her. She wasn't trapped--she was stuck.

And Willow had offered a path. A way forward. A life together, for the two of them. Kind of. For the four of them, really. If she married Brandon. Which, guh. But! Having an excuse to be with Willow A LOT sounded...kind of awesome? Is that really what she wanted?

Their entire relationship was one big secret, was that part of what made it such a turn-on? Probably, yeah. But it wasn't just that. Willow and she were two halves of the same whole. They had so many shared experiences and feelings. They were two powerful women at the top of their celebrity game, beset on all sides by haters and terrible men. There was a shorthand to their relationship, a tacit understanding between them, that Kim simply didn't have with anyone else.

She stepped away from the ledge of that thought before the urge to jump became too much to resist.

"OK! Come on babe! Up!" Kim said to herself, finally.

She sat up, wrapping the sheet around herself, and reached for her phone. And then gasped in horror when she realized that it wasn't her phone, it was a The Fone. She sat there, staring at the thing in her hand, suddenly realizing the depth of the mistake she'd made.

A good phone is pure magic. It feels like an extension--not just of your arm or your physical self, but of your entire being. It's an accessory that you were somehow not born with, and having your phone in your hand feels as natural and perfect as it does to have your hand at the end of your arm. A good phone always wants to be in your hand, and you always want it to be in your hand, because that's where it belongs. It draws power from you, and you draw life from it.

But this. This Fone. This unwieldy hunk of plastic and metal. This undesigned monstrosity. This did not feel like that, at all. It was like holding a heavy, dying bug.

Everything was basically the worse. Dinner was happening and she was supposed to be hurrying! And she'd been so distracted by that picture of Zayn in the lab that she hadn't even thought twice about handing her phone over to Brandon in exchange for this one! AND, GOD DAMN IT. She had been so distracted by sex with Willow that she'd forgotten to ask about Zayn.

"I'm freakin out here, man," Kim said.

Same, Kim's brain said.

Kim closed her eyes and breathed and tried not to be be completely horrified by the Fone in her hand.

"Fine," she said. "Let's see what you can do. Maybe it won't be so bad."

Kim swiped across the screen to wake the phone up. Then she began screaming. It was really bad.

There were like no apps on the Fone. And it got worse from there.

There was a camera, but there was no front-facing camera.

You could text, but there was no emoji keyboard.

There were no photo-editing apps, no camera filters of any kind.

The few apps on it were uninstallable and as far as Kim could tell were there to track your location, but they didn't do anything interesting or usable with the data.

It got perfect service though?

It was basically? just? a phone?

And of course it also had a bad UI and everything was super slow and the font was dumb. Just, terrible everything. Kim felt bad that Willow was going to have to try to sell this thing.

Beyond the point of even caring now, Kim hit the button to bring up her closet. Yup! It was bad! Shocker! None of the clothes stored on her real phone had transferred over. The closet on this phone just had 3 outfits and they were all hella frumped out. Kim clicked them on real quick out of morbid curiosity, and her mind raced to think of some way she could spramp them up a little, maybe modify them into outfits that didn't look like something a grandma died in. But they were beyond save-able.

OK she needed her other phone back. Like an hour ago. This was definitely going to be a topic for dinner conversation. It was time to get some answers around here. But she needed something to wear to GET to dinner first, ughghgh.

Kim fell back onto the bed, whining and pulling the sheets down over her head.

Hmm. Actually.

A few minutes later, Kim was staring at her reflection in the gilt-edged full-length mirror that stood against one wall in her bedroom.

She was wearing what looked like--if you squinted, from far away--a grey silk bias-cut gown slit all the way up to there, but which was, in fact, just the bedsheet, tricked way the fuck out. It wouldn't cut it for a second on the red carpet, but for dinner in this bogus villa? Sure why not.

Kim twirled and admired herself and looked back at it.

"Gosh I sure would like to take a selfie!" she said, to no one.

Then she opened the door and stomped off to find the dining room and get some answers and also eat something, she was starving. 

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