Wealth, status, and beauty define the elite of Kensington Prep. Every one of them possesses the ability to get away with anything and everything they want, unscathed and remain as privileged and superior as ever.
But Amory Scout decides that tim...
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Every Sunday mornings are brunches on Phineas Young's yacht but sadly, for this weekend, the yacht is out of commission and so we are forced to make do with brunch at the Hilton. Despite the demotion from a yacht to a hotel, diamonds and Chanel are mandatory patois for being a member of Elite in any situation.
Girls in attendance are dripped in luxury, choked in wealth, and decked in gems, clutching crocodile skin classics. And with Carmen Calloway, Parker Holtz, and Luciana Santiago right by side, I can't afford to lose up trading down in keds and t-shirts.
I stride into the hotel's magnificent lobby of damask settees and checkered floor, my Steve Madden ankle-strap heels clicking for attention. Even though they've warmed up to me, my hand still trembles when I fumble through my YSL caramel-colored suede purse for my NARS lip gloss and swipe it across my mouth to stain it red and shiny as if I've devoured a whole pint of raspberry sorbet.
"Amory! We're here," Carmen calls me from the other side of the lounge that's tucked in the deep corners of the lobby. Parker and Luciana are already there and the boys are nowhere, except for Orson who is on his phone, typing idly, looking insouciant and bored out of his mind.
I reach for a side-hug, accidentally receiving a whiff of Carmen's Kerastase satin shampoo. I straighten out my brunch dress, which I've spent almost thirty minutes trying to decide last night, before espousing on a vintage Saint Laurent Le Smoking jacket on a Burberry beige plaid dress as an appropriate choice.
"I love your dress," Parker gasps when her expressive blue eyes flit over my body, examining my outfit, and stands up to wrap me in a hug. "It's so cute, where did you get it?"
"Saks," I say in a cavalier tone, "And what are you talking about, you're looking to die for."
Parker laughs, light and airy. I mean it, though. Parker does look stunning in her Marie-Antoinette-inspired Nordstrom salmon pink crushed velvet dress with a distressed Guess jeans jacket and thigh-high Yeezy black boots. She pats at the empty seat next to her. I take my spot on the throne right next to the Queens.
"Hey, Ames," Luciana greets cheerfully, an iridescent smile curling over her berry-stained lips. Now that I'm up close, I noticed faint signs of eye bags underneath a layer of concealer. It's not a surprise. We were all up to five in the morning last night, partying by The Village at this cool warehouse party.
"Do you want to order something?" Carmen asks me when I sit down. I shake my head.
"You sure?"
"Maybe, like, a coffee or something." Carmen nods and gestures the waitress to come over. She orders me a latte, a French press black for her, an espresso for Orson, a mocha for Luciana, and a Ristretto for Parker. When the waitress flounces off, she kicks Orson in the shin with the edge of her Louboutins.
"Say hi to Amory, you rude piece of shit," Carmen snarks to her brother but her face is one of beatific deviousness.
Orson lifts his eyes from his social media and fixes them on me. Being under his scrutiny is a necessity in my plan but he's also incredibly intimidating. I level my chin and cross my legs to release some of the tension from my muscles and out of anxiety, timidly pluck a passionfruit macaron from the pastry tower. The execution of the macaron is impeccable- they're so delectable and delicate, they look like they are imported straight out of Paris. My soft features glaze over as I nibble the tip. I could feel his eyes on me, watching my mouth work on the macaron.
