✔︎Money ; afi

•0.3•

   "You work here?!" Luke yelped, his delft blue eyes bright with shock and annoyance.

   Michael scoffed condescendingly. "No, dumbass, I tour with a boy band." His voice lilted with distaste and sarcasm on the words, rolling his emerald green orbs.

   "Then why were you playing for them?!" The blonde complained, voice thick with anger.

   "The usual guitarist broke her hand, and I play for albums and EPs and shit; talented, unlike you!" Before Luke could burst into flames—his pale skin flushed a vermillion red with fury—Orion stepped in, holding up a matte black-nailed hand for silence.

   "Both of you, stop yelling. You've got through nearly two years without catching sight of one another, I think you can get through two more."

   Her boss strolled up, interjecting stridently. "I don't want hate in my stadium; I'm also a bitch. Orion, you just lost a partner, and Michael and Luke, you're partners now." Marissa chuckled evilly. "Have fun."

"No!" Luke cried shrilly, eyes wide in alarm. Michael snickered at the high-pitched sound, before seeming to realize what his boss had just said.

"Wait, shit, I'm not going anywhere near that fucktard!" He insisted, but his shouts hit a retreating back. Orion rolled her almond eyes, patting both men on the head.

"Good luck," she said amusedly, breezing past them with a smirk.

"You suck!" Luke hollered after her. Orion merely continued on her way in response.

—

   Orion clicked up the driveway of the Irwin Mansion, knocking neatly on the heavy oak door. A short woman in black and white primly opened it, greeting the brunette with a nod of her head. Orion strolled past her effortlessly, and towards Lauren's room. The teenager was going to a school ball, and Hailee Irwin insisted upon Orion choosing the attire for it.

   Lauren's strong voice rang through the upper level as the twenty-one year old stylist clicked up the grand staircase on her Louboutins.

   "You're an asshat! Fuck you, Ash! No one fucking likes the rebel phase teenager shit, and you're twenty-two!" There was a pause, before Lauren was screeching again. "Say something, you immature fucktard!" Another brief silence, and the brunette teenager was continuing. But, she sounded resigned; like she'd given up on fighting. "Damn it, Ashton. Fuck you, mate."

   Orion stood frozen at the top of the steps, appalled by Lauren's harsh language. She was soon broken from her trance, though, by the sixteen-year-old stumbling out of one of the many rooms. Tears splashed down her face, features flushed an angry crimson. She didn't see the stylist standing in her house, already exiting the mansion.

   Orion didn't stay put for long, strolling down the plush carpeted hall. She paused outside the room Lauren had fled, peering in. The woman's dark eyes landed on a young man, leaned against the wall on his elbows. Tan hands were threaded frustratedly through his tawny curls, his stance harsh.

   "Are you Ashton?" Orion announced her presence with a question, and the man immediately turned on her, a violent glint in his hazel eyes.

   "Get the fuck out," he hissed, feet planted threateningly. Orion stood her ground, subtly raising her chin in challenge. She stared at him, waiting for a response to her question. The hazel eyed young man glared back with vicious, narrowed eyes. "Get the hell out, you fucker."

"Is your name Ashton?"

The man scoffed, but nodded subtly. Orion smiled, though it obviously wasn't genuine. She nodded, placing a face to the name that Harry and his sister had seemed so worried about. With that, the brunette exited, heels clicking. Ashton rolled his eyes, slamming the door harshly.

   Orion walked to the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall. She pulled out her phone, texting Lauren in hopes she'd still be ready to talk about her school ball dresses. The sixteen-year-old called her immediately, speaking before Orion could get out a hello.

   "My brother's a jackass! Harry and I are at—hey, Little One, where are we?" The line crackled as Lauren pulled her phone from her lips to talk to her brother. "Harry! Shut up, where are we? Oh, gross, why're we eating here? Never mind, I'm talking to Orion." The phone hissed and sputtered, before Lauren was talking to the twenty-one year old again. "Hey, I'm back. We're at McDonald's, can you come meet us? We'll talk about the clothes and whatever."

   Orion shuddered at the thought of being in, or being seen in McDonald's. She paused, before finally finding a polite response. "Do you think we could meet at Opulent?" The brunette offered, referencing a chic, classy restaurant.

"Hey Little One, want to meet Orion—knock it off, mate—at Opulent?" The phone crackled, and Lauren spoke to the older brunette. "Yeah, we'll meet you there." The line disconnected, and Orion strolled to her car.

—

"How about one of these?" Orion slid a glossy printout of an outfit, along with the brand and price of each item, across a smooth tabletop.

"I like the bracelet and those shoes are cute, but the—" before Lauren could finish her verdict, Harry interrupted.

"The dress is too adult-y and the necklace is too small," he sighed exasperatedly, having heard his sister decline twenty outfits already.

"Actually, yeah," the sixteen-year-old agreed, raising a surprised eyebrow. "How'd you—?" Harry grabbed the stack of paper from Orion, ripping three of the printouts, and shoving some of the remnants at his sister. "That's actually extremely perfect."

"Great, can we do anything else now?" The bored teenager whined. Orion chuckled.

"Sure, kid."