Later, Sophia would regret the red lipstick.
She didn't mind the shade of crimson; with her dark hair, it gave her a sort of sultry, vampire-esque look. What Sophia did mind was the endless parade of puns that the tabloids made after her picture went viral. The Toronto Star went with "Sophia's caught red-handed!" The Mirror ran a feature called "She's red-dy to party; inside Sophia's messy night out in Toronto."
It was, to say the least, unfortunate.
Sophia wasn't even planning on wearing the lipstick in the first place. She'd been unboxing some PR stuff before she went out for the evening, and she had swiped it on unthinkingly. Just to try it.
Two hours later, Sophia was drinking gingerbread martinis in a ritzy club on King Street West, the red lipstick still firmly in place.
"What do you think?" she asked, shouting to be heard over the music.
Sophia struck a ridiculous pose under the strobe lights, and her cousin sipped her soda water, studying her thoughtfully.
"I'm not sure," Ophelia said slowly.
"About what?"
"Well, it's just... it's very..." Ophelia bit her lip. "Well, it's very bright, isn't it?"
Sophia cracked a grin. Ophelia considered anything more than a pale shade of pink lipstick to be the equivalent of dancing on the rooftop naked at midday. Possibly while singing a Scottish folk song.
"Well, I like it," Sophia declared. "It's fun." She signaled to the bartender for another martini. "You know what fun is, right, Fi?"
Ophelia shot her cousin a very rude gesture, and Sophia's grin widened. They had been at the Estrella perfume launch for a grand total of thirty minutes, and Ophelia had already mixed-up Moschino and Miu Miu, mistaken the CEO for a waiter, and knocked over a bottle of limited-edition $500 perfume.
But, hey, at least Ophelia had changed out of her neon green sweatpants.
Small mercies.
Speaking of which.
"I told you that dress would look amazing," Sophia told her cousin smugly. "You should borrow my clothes more often."
Ophelia tugged at the stretchy black fabric. "I've seen children's t-shirts with more fabric than this."
"It's designer."
"It's ridiculous."
"You know," Sophia said wryly, accepting her martini from a waiter, "some people would be excited to be at a perfume launch."
Ophelia sighed. "Yeah, well, some people get excited about reading Bill Clinton fanfiction. There's no accounting for taste. Wait!" She lunged for the waiter, plucking a glass of champagne neatly off his tray. "I've changed my mind; I need this."
Sophia arched an eyebrow. "You never drink."
"I never wear short dresses, either," Ophelia pointed out. "And yet." She downed the glass of champagne, reaching for another. "Remind me: why are we here again?"
"For my career."
"Gross."
"And for Nick," Sophia added, and Ophelia wrinkled her nose.
"I hate him," Ophelia muttered half-heartedly. "I mean, I like him, but I hate him."
Sophia elbowed her cousin. Across the room, the man in question was deep in conversation with a woman wearing an outrageously orange feathered hat. Nick caught Sophia's eye and grinned, giving her a little wave. She raised her drink in a silent salute. Nick was the chemist that designed the Estrella perfume, and a "friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend" (there were a lot of those, in Sophia's line of business).
He was also, Sophia suspected, one of the main reasons Estrella had reached out to offer her a contract with them. They need an influencer, and she needed to pay her rent. Everyone was happy.
"You see?" Sophia said. "We're supporting him."
"You're supporting him," Ophelia corrected her, taking another healthy swig of champagne. "With your two million Instagram followers."
"It's only 1.9."
Ophelia gave her an exasperated look. "Does it matter?"
"Considering it pays my bills, yes."
Actually, Sophia wasn't making any money off of tonight's event — that came later — but she wasn't about to admit that to Ophelia. Her cousin was already eyeing the nearest exit like a hungry toddler ogling an ice cream stand.
Sophia took a sip of her martini. Nick was now wiggling towards the bar, desperately trying to evade the clutches of the woman in the monstrous orange hat. She watched, amused, as he ducked behind a potted plant, which did nothing to conceal his tall frame.
"He's kind of cute, actually," Sophia mused. "In a hot scientist sort of way. Clark Kent meets Albert Einstein."
Ophelia looked exasperated. "Since when do you mix business and fun?"
"Not for me," Sophia said, rolling her eyes. "For you." She bumped Ophelia's hip. "Anyways, I already have someone."
"I thought you didn't like Mitt."
"Kit," Sophia said pointedly, "is a very nice man."
"He's really not," Ophelia said.
"He's very sweet once you get to know him."
"I doubt that."
"Well," Sophia said, "you can see for yourself. Because I invited him tonight."
For a moment, Ophelia stared at her. Then she flagged down a waiter, plucking another two glasses of champagne off the tray. Sophia watched, dumbstruck, as her cousin took a long slug, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.
"I hate you," Ophelia announced. "I really do."
"Fi..."
"You're the worst."
"This way you can get to know him," Sophia argued, reaching for Ophelia's second glass of champagne, and her cousin lurched backwards.
"Oh no!" Ophelia waggled her finger. "It's not for you."
Unfortunately, Ophelia's stern tone was ruined by the fact that her words came out more like "s'not fer oo." Even Ophelia's red hair was escaping from its sleek chignon, curling around her flushed face. Sophia's lips quirked.
"You're drunk," Sophia said, amused.
"Am not!" Ophelia protested.
"You are."
"Am—"
"There you are!" a voice called.
They both spun around.
Kit grinned, and Sophia's heart skipped a beat. He looked particularly gorgeous tonight; his dark hair was still styled from whatever photoshoot he had come from, and he smelled like expensive pine cologne. He was also carrying a cigar. Not because Kit smoked — he was far too concerned about his dental hygiene — but because he liked the look of a cigar. He'd once told Sophia it made him feel like an old Hollywood film star.
"Hi, babe," Kit said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Sorry I'm late." His eyes swept over her. "You look unreal. Is that dress new?"
She smiled. "Two-piece."
"Pardon?"
"It's a two-piece." Sophia pulled out the hem of the top, showing him the slash of skin near her ribcage. "They're very in."
"Whatever it is," Kit said, "I like it."
Sophia's smile grew. "You only like it because it's tight."
"Well," Kit murmured, "I'm not the only one. Every man in the room is watching you." His warm breath raised the hair on her neck. "I'm insanely jealous; it makes me want to steal you away."
Her cheeks warmed. Even now, Sophia wasn't immune to Kit's charms; they'd met six months ago at a launch party for a new activewear range, and he'd taken the Peloton next to her own ("I hate cycling," Kit had later confessed. "You have no idea how miserable I was."). After the class, he'd asked her for coffee. She'd said yes.
She liked Kit. Some people were wary of him— they found Kit smarmy or arrogant or both — but Sophia had seen him flinch after reading comments on Instagram. She'd seen Kit vlog his "What I Eat in A Day as A Male Model" and then turn off the camera, collapsing on the sofa with a beer. They worked in the same industry. They understood one another.
Yes, Sophia liked him. She just worried that...
Well.
She just worried.
Sophia worried what would happen when she no longer fit the tight dresses. When her skin began to sag, and her face grew wrinkled. Would men still offer to carry her suitcases? Would people still smile at her in the grocery store? She had nothing else to fall back on. No talents or accomplishments. Just beauty products, good timing, and winning the genetic lottery.
She was privileged. She knew that.
But how long would it last?
Kit extended a hand. "I don't think we've met before. I'm Kit."
To her credit, Ophelia took it without complaint. "Ophelia. Sophia's cousin."
Kit blinked. "Her cousin?"
His eyes darted between them, and Sophia bit down on her tongue, hard. She tried not to mind. Really, she did. But even now — even though it had happened to her a million times before — she still felt that annoying tug at her heartstrings.
"Yes," Sophia said coolly. "Our mothers are sisters."
Kit looked perplexed. He seemed to be trying to reconcile Ophelia's fair skin and red hair with Sophia's Asian heritage. She could practically see the small hamster wheels in his mind turning.
"Right," he said slowly. "That's... that's cool."
Unfortunately, Ophelia chose that moment to lurch forward, almost knocking Sophia flat on her back.
"Whoa!" She steadied her cousin. "You okay, Fi?"
Ophelia shook her head, looking very pale.
"You want water?" Sophia asked.
Ophelia nodded weakly.
"Okay." Sophia whipped around, but all the waiters seemed to have disappeared in the crush of bodies. She gritted her teeth. Great. Just great. "You know what?" She shook her head. "I'll go get it. Here." She gingerly passed Ophelia to Kit. "You watch her."
Kit looked alarmed. "I—what?"
"Watch her," Sophia repeated.
"But I—"
"Kit." She gave him a warning look. "I mean it. Don't let her out of your sight."
And with that, Sophia began shoving her way toward the bar. It wasn't a far journey — only thirty feet at most — but the guests were packed so tightly together that it took her a good twenty minutes of shoving through rhinestones, silk scarves and hideously pungent perfume to safely procure the water.
When she got back, Ophelia was sitting on a chair, alone.
"Sophia!" Ophelia crowed, lunging unsteadily to her feet. "You're back!" She slung an arm around her neck. "You're the best, you know?" She grinned, bopping her on the nose. "The bestest of the bestest!"
Sophia gritted her teeth.
She was going to kill Kit. She was going to flay him alive, and then boil him into stew. And maybe run over his designer shoes with her car, just for kicks.
"Where's Kit?" Sophia demanded.
"Who?"
"My—" Sophia broke off, exasperated. "Well, I don't know what he is. The dark-haired man. The one who was just here."
"Oh, him." Ophelia's eyes widened. "I didn't like him. He's mean."
Sophia forced herself to count to ten. "Here," she muttered, wrapping Ophelia's hands around the glass. "Drink this."
Ophelia immediately spat it out. "Yuck!"
"It's just water."
"I don't like it!"
"You know what?" Sophia slung Ophelia's arm around her neck. "Let's just go home, okay? We can order some food and—" She froze, her eyes catching on Ophelia's right hand. "Fi. What are you holding?"
"Hmmm?"
"In your hand," Sophia snapped, yanking the object toward her. "What is this?"
Her heart stopped. Because Sophia knew what the baggie filled with white powder was. And she also knew that it was very, very illegal.
"Oh, that," Ophelia said mildly, as if Sophia had merely pointed out some dandruff in her hair. "A very nice man gave it to me."
"He what?"
"Can we get poutine?" Ophelia wrinkled her nose. "I want poutine."
"Fi," Sophia said, her heart pounding, "did you take any of this?" She snatched the bag out of her cousin's hand, waggling it under her nose. "Did you eat it?"
"With extra cheese," Ophelia said dreamily, ignoring her. "And fried onions. The little crispy ones that they— oops!" She stumbled slightly, sloshing the rest of her water over Sophia's white silk top. "Oh, no."
Sophia gripped her hand. "Ophelia. Did you?"
"You're all wet!" Ophelia giggled. She actually giggled. "Like a pool. Water is wet."
Sophia prayed for a higher power to grant her patience. Gently, she rotated Ophelia until they were eye-to-eye, forcing her cousin to look at her.
"Ophelia," she said slowly. "Did you take the drugs?" Ophelia shook her head, and Sophia let out a breath. "Okay. Good."
Now, Sophia just had to get rid of them.
She glanced toward the washroom. Down the toilet, maybe? No; there was a chance that it would clog the plumbing. And there was no way in hell that she was ingesting them. Sophia had only ever done mushrooms, and that was at an Imagine Dragons concert, where she spent an hour talking to a yellow balloon with a face on it.
Never again.
Sophia's eyes landed on a door near the bar.
The alley. Of course.
"Stay here," she told Ophelia sternly. "I mean it."
Her cousin saluted her. "Aye-aye, captain."
Sophia darted toward the door. She felt the chilly September air hit her like a wave, followed by the sickly sweet smell of rotting garbage and cigarette smoke. She coughed, shivering in the night air. Her damp two-piece wasn't helping matters.
Oh, screw it.
Nobody was looking, anyway.
Sophia wiggled the top off. Then she scanned the dumpsters, her mind whirling. Should she pick a full one to disguise the drugs? Or an empty one, to—?
"Babe!"
She spun around. Kit was leaning heavily against the door frame, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. She could smell beer clinging to his clothes.
"Well, well," Kit drawled, his eyes flicking to her lacy black bra. "What a nice surprise."
"Oh, shut-up," Sophia snapped. "You left my cousin."
"Did I?"
Sophia glowered at him. Kit switched tactics.
"It was an emergency," he said solemnly. "My agent called." He sauntered toward her, grinning. "Have I told you how sexy you look?"
"Stop it, Kit."
He wrapped his arms around her. "Because you do."
"I said, stop," Sophia snapped, pushing him away. "It's only four letters. It's not that hard to understand."
"Okay!" Kit's hands flew up. "Christ. No need to get touchy."
"No need to get—?" Sophia stared at him, unable to comprehend his words. Unable to comprehend anything, except for the growing urge to stab him in the eyeball with her heel. "You know what, Kit? Go to hell."
Sophia lobbed the drugs into a sewer grate, swearing colorfully under her breath — blissfully unaware that, five feet away and concealed in a dumpster, a photographer was reviewing his photos, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
A/N: Helloooooo readers!
Welcome to "The Wrong Path" — if you came here from "Backstage Girl," I hope you enjoyed a cameo from a certain ex-member of The Patriots in this chapter :) If you're new here, then hi! Welcome to the world of the Toronto girls.
You don't need to have read BG to read this novel, but it DOES contain major spoilers, so keep that in mind if you want to read the series.
Can't wait to hear what y'all think of Sophia's adventures!
Lots of love,
J.K.