Fame is a game of chess with each complicated move roped into a chain reaction, nudging a dreamer down the steps further away from a name in lights to place an enhanced version to be celebrated on the throne. It's a game that has a glass wall that m...
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For the past two days, Blair had been lounging around in her extravagant hotel room with a mountain of her finest attire that had gradually overpowered the evidently expensive marble flooring to the point where she was unable to distinguish between what she had brought with her and what was well above her budget. The moment she stepped out of the black SUV that had been sent to retrieve her from the airport, the city melted before her very eyes in the fire blazing heat of the escalator to stardom that had claimed the lion's share of her stone heart.
Blair internally knew that she was stepping into the realms of a dirty game, one that could either end with a first place trophy tightly in her grip or with her slithering back down in humiliation and shame to her quiet life in Seattle but the inferno that remained deep in her veins gave her assurance that she would eventually hold the keys to the kingdom.
Then again, she knew better than anyone that it doesn't matter how you win as long as you are the last woman standing and besides it wouldn't be the first time Blair was found behind bars.
Her frustrations were interrupted by shrill chimes from her phone that was accompanied with rhythmic vibrations, breaking her away from the closet and in the direction of the glowing vanity. Blair arched both eyebrows at an unfamiliar phone number, pressing the button to accept the call before holding the phone tightly against her ear.
"Hello, is this Blair Nazari on the line?" The person enquired, her annoying nasally voice causing Blair to shut her eyes to bear it.
"That depends on who's asking."
The caller fell silent, clearly unprepared to respond to her witty comebacks that Blair had kept on her tongue like weapons.
"I'm calling from Clara Clermont's office, Blair Nazari has a meeting scheduled with her in about an hour and Ms. Clermont wanted to ensure that she would be able to make it." The caller explained, her words stumbling over each other with so much uncertainty that Blair did not know whether or not to believe a word they were saying.
"Okay, send a car round and she'll be there." Blair answered, looking at the pile of clothing behind her with panic.
"I-"
In a frenzy at the amount of time she had left to make herself appear ready to be thrown in front of a camera and flashing lights, Blair ended the call without a second thought and sprinted towards her clothes with determination shining in her eyes.
As Blair sat in the plush car seat of a distinctly different vehicle, adjusting her seatbelt with apprehension as a result of the bizarre man behind the wheel and gripping onto her seat with her manicured nails in order to stop her body from swerving from side to side recklessly. It had taken an alarmingly lengthy amount of time for Blair to come to a conclusion on what she would wear and what message she would want to deliver alongside it, a lot of fails before she found the one.
