Lavish | on hold

7 | Night Fall

In all of her times of crazed partying, Portia had never found herself behind bars - that she could remember anyway. She sat on a white mattress that had wood surrounding it and was attached to the wall behind her. The cell was as simple as possible, a unsanitary silver toilet and a poster that had a set of encouraging words that Portia couldn't be bothered to read.

The last couple of hours had been absolutely horrendous in between Portia's constant sobs and her pleads to the officer that sat with their legs crossed and a newspaper just under their nose.

"I have money, I could get you anything and everything. Just please!"
She begged once more, her tears still found on her cheeks.

The officer simply rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak before being interrupted by the chime of the black telephone that sat on her desk. After a conversation in code, the lady returned to her with a tired expression on her face.

"You're going to be taken into the next room for interrogation now," The lady paused to lift herself up from the chair that sat on. "If you say more than two words to me, I assure you you'll be spending much more time with that cell that you're currently in."

As she slotted the key in the lock, Portia let out a desperate nod and a sigh of relief as she took her first couple of steps out of the slammer.

'My babies..'

She then turned around to face the officer beside her with her serene expression turning into the anxiety filled aura she had seconds before.

"Where are my babies?"

The lady sighed. "I assume you mean your shoes."

Portia nodded, looking around for her red bottom heels that she slipped into just before her arrest.

"You don't get them until we interrogate you."

"But I'm innocent!" She whined, exclaiming in frustration at yet another accusation. Portia was sick and tired for the glares and sarcastic, dismissive tone she had received by everyone - even the paper boy.

The officer let out a small chuckle and muttered to herself lowly but not making an effort to be unheard.

"That's what all the rich kids say.."

–

Victoria lifted the large glass to her lips, threw back her head and braced herself for the sharp burn of alcohol on her tongue once more.
She would've been turning herself away from the drink that sat before her and covered her ears but she was too numb to react or feel anything at this point.

Her soft black and red VIP Booth was overflowing with her closest strangers and their plus ones, practically making it impossible to sit comfortably in the exotic club. As the shot finally kicked in, Victoria lifted her arms up and began to swing her hips to the music with her eyes shut tight.

"Maybe you should take it easy." She heard an unfamiliar voice suggest to her from a few feet away. Her lighthearted aura turned to an angry scowl as she attempted to focus her eyes on the owner of the voice that spoke to her.

"I'm Victoria Sterling!" She slurred, taking a couple of steps closer towards the young girl dressed in a tight and cheap party dress. "I think I know when I've had enough."

"You've had enough." She heard a familiar male voice state beside her, picking her up before she even had time to retort.

"This is designer!" She squealed as she was swept away, waving her arms and legs about as she was brought towards the exit.