The video of Jaylene burning Cassandra the night before had stirred up a storm of savage comments on TikTok. One user had created a meme of Jaylene’s praise and put down of Cassandra, with the hashtags, #imtoojelloforthissong and #bitchgotohell. By eleven that morning, the meme already had half a million views and had spread to other social media sites.
As fast as Cassandra’s online image was growing, her music going viral, Jaylene’s was being torn down and rebuilt into the ultimate cringe meme of TikTok. She’d become the butt of ongoing jokes, referred to as jello, haterade, healous, ginger, and jitch. A month later, the views had gone into the millions, the online hate spillage poisoning her friends’ profiles and resulting in Jaylene’s mental collapse. She was now in a treatment program for suicidally depressed teens.
What took it to another level for Emma was that Cassandra seemed to thrive off of Jaylene’s misfortune. People coming to Cassandra’s defense over Jaylene’s public dis, the adulation of Cassandra’s voice, comments like, “dizzy,” “SOOO good,” “dope,” “gucci,” and “goat” had gone to her head. She’d begun vaping and always wore a fedora, her now-signature look. Girls were donning fedoras and posting lip-syncing videos to Cassandra’s “To Be Young” hit on TikTok.
Then, of course, Gumption’s painting of Cassandra had reinvigorated Gumption’s celebrity, especially amongst Gen Z girls, and in turn only enhanced Cassandra’s growing popularity—so much so, that a producer from Virgin Records had reached out to her, and an Instagram beauty influencer named Kylie Sparkles, who launched the brand Natural Girl, invited Cassandra to be the face of the brand for the next year. A few times, Emma had noticed Cassandra imitating some of Gumption’s mannerisms and calling people dear. It made Emma want to roll her eyes so far back in her head, they’d fall down her skull.
Emma squinted out at the water, the sun hot on her back.
“Are you ignoring me now?” Nisha pestered.
“No!” Emma snapped.
Nisha drew her neck back. Emma knew it was suicide to argue with Nisha. She was too quick with her comebacks and could cut a person down in seconds, but Emma had had enough. “I don’t always have to have a reason for not wanting to do something. I said, if you guys want to go, go. I don’t want to.”
Nisha’s eyes turned to slits. “You know, ever since you got pretty, you’ve been acting like you’re just too good for the rest of us.”
“Right, like that’s the problem,” Emma muttered and rolled her eyes at Cat, whose face looked pinched with worry. Emma, Cat, and Hunter had talked a few times about the growing Cassandra phenomenon and Nisha’s complacency over the fact that Cassandra was turning into a narcissistic bitch. Once at odds with each other, Cassandra’s escalating fame had brought them closer. Part of it had to do with Gumption. Nisha was such a fangirl of the woman that Gumption’s favoring of Cassandra had elevated her in Nisha’s eyes.
“You think you’re too good for us now?” Nisha challenged.
A hot fury shot through Emma.
Hunter stood and brushed sand from their bottom. “I’m going to take a walk,” they said.
“Well—” Nisha pushed.
“Nisha, leave her alone,” Cat said.
Cassandra leaned back and closed her eyes. She almost seemed oblivious to the building tension.
Emma felt the pressure of anger expanding in her chest until it exploded from her. “I can’t help how I look! I couldn’t help it when I was short and fat and people looked past me like I was invisible, and I can’t help it now that I’m tall and suddenly pretty. It just fucking happened!”
“You can’t help it?” Nisha replied nastily. “Girl, please. You’d be crying your little eyes out if you lost your looks.”
Emma stood. “Fuck you, Nisha,” she hissed and grabbed her towel and beach bag, stumbling through the hot sand. Cat ran after her.
“Emma, wait.”
Emma stopped to dig out her flip-flops and put them on. Two men passed by and looked her up and down.
“Hey, beautiful,” one of them said, as if to emphasize Nisha’s point.
“Where are you going?” Cat asked.
“Home.” Emma could feel tears smarting in her eyes, and she rubbed roughly at them as she walked briskly through the sand, Cat trotting after her.
“You know,” Emma said to Cat. “Nisha’s such a fucking hypocrite. She raps all this feminist stuff about women being marginalized and sexualized, and then she’s hating on me because I’m not ‘ugly.’” Emma made air quotes. “I’m just tired of all her shit.”
“Yeah. Her attitude’s so salty,” Cat said, exhaling. “For the first time in forever, I’m looking forward to the family Europe trip. I’m kind of sick of everything.”
“Did you see that takedown she did of that millennial woman on TikTok?” Emma asked.
Cat was quiet.
A thirty-year-old woman had posted herself singing Cassandra’s song and wearing a fedora. The post had been cheesy, but Nisha’s response was overly vicious. She’d commented that the woman should take her old millennial ass back to Instagram, that her mother was younger than that woman, but knew when it was time to grow up. The millennials had had their day in the sun and everything wasn’t about them. Others had jumped on the comment train until the woman’s post was worthy of the cringe bin, prompting her to make an apology video, which only increased the blood-thirsty mockery of the Gen Zs.
If Emma could sum up her generation in one word, that word was: irreverent.
“Do you want company?” Cat asked.
Emma bit her lip. She really didn’t. What she wanted was a break from her friends.
“It’s okay,” Cat said, reading the mood. “I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” Emma said.
Cat returned to the group, and Emma continued to the beach path, walking to Main Street, Venice, where she paused to pull up a Lyft on her phone. If she were honest with herself, Emma thought, she had issues, too.
The porn.
After seeing her dad in that compromised position, Hunter’s rage at her dad for his utter lack of integrity, the strange encounter with Blue, and Jaylene’s drunken state, all Emma had wanted to do was hide from the world for a week. She felt disgusted even over the thought of touching herself, let alone watching porn, but somehow she had let it creep back into her life and, when it did, it took hold with a vengeance. Sometimes she felt as if her sexuality was out of control, like she was on the verge of doing something even riskier than getting off multiple times a day to porn. What was worse, there was no one to talk to about her problem. It was too embarrassing.
Emma crossed her arms, gritting her teeth. She knew when she got home that it would be the first thing she’d do: lock herself in her room and pull up her favorite videos, watching them over and over, giving herself multiple orgasms until she was exhausted. Then she’d browse around to find fresh content to line up before taking a nap and starting all over again. It was pathetic because it was almost all she wanted to do now.
The car pulled up. Emma caught the back of a girl’s head, another passenger in her rideshare. She opened the door and climbed in back, next to the girl. She never liked riding up front in Lyfts and Ubers.
“Emma?”
Blue’s husky voice made Emma’s heart pick up in tempo, a pulse starting in her neck as she turned her head to meet Blue’s dark eyes.
“Hi,” Blue said softly.
“Hey,” Emma said and put on her seatbelt.
“Just coming from the beach?” Blue asked. She was wearing a thin, see-through cotton T-shirt, a white bikini top under it. Her eyes had a pleading look in them. A please-don’t-be-mad look.
Emma swooped her hair over to one shoulder. “Yeah, looks like you are, too.”
An awkward silence settled between them.
“I’m really sorry about that night,” Blue said. “About everything.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Emma said and realized for the first time that it really ha
dn’t been Blue’s fault that her sister decided to nosh Oliver and indulge him in some creepy fetish in the middle of a party with teenagers, the door to his bedroom left stupidly unlocked.
“Yeah. Well…” Blue said and shook her head. “That stupid thing with the bath. I cringe every time I think about it.”
Emma looked her full in the face. She seemed so vulnerable, much younger than the seductress in the tight catsuit.
“It was strange,” Emma said with a small smile. “But kind of hot, too.”
Blue gave a little laugh. “Where are you going?”
“Just home,” Emma said with an eye roll. “I needed a break from my friends, especially Nisha and Cassandra.”
“Nisha’s extra,” Blue said.
“So extra, with, like, whipped cream and cherries on top and a little sprinkle of nuts.” Emma made the motion of squirting whipped cream from a bottle and sprinkling on toppings.
Blue tipped her head back and laughed, her husky voice doing something to Emma’s stomach.
“Cassandra’s blowing up, though,” Blue said.
“Yeah,” Emma said with a sigh. “So is her head. Pretty soon it’s not going to fit anywhere. Like, if she wants to take a flight, she’ll have to check it with the rest of the luggage.”
Blue’s shoulders shook with laughter, and she clapped her hands. “You’re a fucking riot.” Her laughter died down, eyes shining, “And so fit,” she added.
Emma felt her stomach tighten again and her mouth go dry. “Where are you going?” She asked, to change the subject.
“Home,” Blue looked out her window for a moment, then said, “Do you want to come over?”
“Will your sister be there?”
Blue didn’t respond right away, the smile leaving her lips. “She’s out of town for a few days.”
Emma nodded. “Okay, sure.” She leaned forward in her seat and said to the driver, “I’m going to go with my friend.”
The driver gave a thumbs up and, a minute later made a U-turn.
Emma wasn’t sure what she expected when she imagined where Blue lived, but it wasn’t a fancy high-rise apartment off Wilshire Boulevard in Westwood. A doorman opened the door for them and greeted Blue as Ms. Mars, using his keycard for the elevator. Once inside, Blue scanned her own keycard for the eighth floor and the two rode up in silence, the elevator doors opening into the private foyer of Blue’s apartment, their images reflected back at them from a massive floor to ceiling mirror. A walk down a short hallway took them to an open, airy kitchen, which blended into a living room flooded with natural light and furnished with low, modern furniture. Through sliding glass doors was a giant wraparound balcony overlooking the town.
“Wow,” Emma said.
Blue tossed her beach bag onto a red accent chair that looked like a seashell with a silver base, and Emma wondered how a person sat in it.
“This is my sister’s place,” Blue said.
“Oh. So you don’t live here?”
“No, I do.” Blue went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Pellegrino and two long, narrow glasses from the cabinet, filling them with ice before pouring the water. “I moved in last year after our parents decided to live in Northern California. LA was getting too expensive for them, and our dad got a job at his friend’s vineyard in Napa, helping him manage the place.
“The fires have been crazy up there the last few years,” Emma said as Blue handed her a glass of water.
“I know, right? Scary.” Blue took a sip from her water, peering at Emma over the rim of her glass.
“But this place must be, like, a fortune in rent,” Emma said.
“I think you’ve guessed how Mia affords it.”
Emma blushed and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Does it bother you?”
Blue sat across from her. “Who wants to graduate with a pile of debt? Colleges don’t make it easy these days, especially if you’re trying to get through law school. Mia wants to be a corporate attorney.”
Emma gazed around, wondering how much her dad was spending on Mia, money that he should be putting away for his own children’s college tuition. Money that her mom earned and belonged to their family. He was such scum, she thought with a flash of anger.
“Oliver doesn’t pay for this place,” Blue said, as if reading her thoughts. “He wouldn’t be able to afford something like this.”
Their eyes locked and Emma wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended over the comment.
“Want a tour?” Blue asked in a lighter tone. “There’s not much more to the place, but I’ll show you around.”
“Sure.” They stood and Blue took her to what was obviously the master bedroom, a sprawling room with its own balcony and more modern furniture. There was, of course, a walk-in closet and a private bathroom. Blue’s bedroom was next door. It was more modest, but still spacious and nice, with a private bathroom as well. A powder room for guests sat between the two bedrooms, and there were two hall closets—one for coats and one for storage.
Finished with the tour, the girls returned to Blue’s room, where she started rummaging in her dresser drawer, pulling out one light summery dress after another.
“What are you looking for?” Emma asked.
“There’s this really comfy long sleeve dress I like to lounge around in. Oh, here.” She unfurled a balled-up black T-shirt dress that tied in at the middle, flung it on top of the dresser, and pulled off her T-shirt, untying her bikini top, which fell to the floor with a sprinkle of sand. Emma stared at Blue’s large breasts and puckered nipples, then met Blue’s gaze. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but her feet seemed to move of their own accord toward Blue, and, without a word, they fell into each other’s arms, tongues battling for control, Blue nibbling at her bottom lip.
In the next instant, they’d undressed and Emma felt a searing heat flash through her as they collapsed onto the bed and Blue draped her naked body over hers.
“Want to try something?” Blue whispered in her ear.
Emma nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Blue got up, going to her dresser. She padded back to the bed with a blue silk sleep mask in her hand.
“Here, put this on,” she said, holding it out.
Emma hesitated.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing weird. Trust me.”
Emma took the mask and slipped it over her eyes. Instantly, everything plunged into blackness.
“Lie back,” Blue said, her husky voice low and sultry.
Emma did. She could feel Blue leave the bed again and the weight of her body returning to the mattress as she crawled toward Emma. Something light and feathery tickled at her chest, giving her a shiver.
“Do you like it?” Blue’s voice was near her ear, her warm breath falling on her neck as the feathery thing made circles around her breasts and swept sensually down her chest to her belly button, playfully dancing there. Emma moaned and was rewarded with the feel of Blue’s soft lips on hers, the feather making its way lower to caress her inner thighs as Blue’s kisses descended in a southerly direction.
It was evening when they finally emerged from the bed and Emma checked her phone to see a slew of texts, several from Jill, asking where she was.
“Everything okay?” Blue asked, producing a vape pen and taking a long drag. She offered it to Emma, who took a puff and gave it back.
“Jesus, I tap out for a couple of hours and my phone blows up,” Emma complained.
Blue laughed. “You’re a popular girl. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you by yourself before today.” She smiled and playfully flicked a lock of Emma’s hair over her shoulder, eyeing her flirtatiously. “So you’ve got moves.”
Emma blushed.
“I thought you were a virgin, but obviously you aren’t.”
Emma didn’t correct her but stretched instead. Blue nibbled playfully at one of her nipples. They’d had sex about seven times in the last several hours, and she was famished.
“I’m starving,” Blue said as if
reading her thoughts. “We should go out. Do you have a fake ID? It’d be fun to hit some of the clubs later.”
Emma shook her head, a sizzle of excitement shooting through her. In the period of a day, she’d stepped from one reality into another. A reality where she’d hooked up with the girl she’d been crushing on for months, and the two of them had a whole luxury apartment to themselves, with the city and all it had to offer seemingly at their fingertips.
“I can get you an ID,” Blue said and got up to go to the bathroom. Emma’s eyes trailed after her, drinking in her curves. Blue returned and took another drag off her vape. “I’ll ask Donovan,” she said.
“Donovan?”
“Yeah. He’s involved in all sorts of little odd and ends.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you knew him that well.”
“We hook up sometimes,” Blue said casually.
Emma slipped her shirt back on. “I thought Donovan and Sam were going out.”
Blue’s brow wrinkled. “I thought you knew they broke up.” Blue held out a clean T-shirt to Emma. “Here, you can borrow this.”
Emma took her shirt back off and slipped on the offered one. “No. I had no idea.”
“Really? Because it was at that showing. You know, at that gallery in BH, when Gumption was showing off the painting she did of Cassandra. Donovan said Nisha hinted that Sam used to be a guy.”
Emma felt her heart pick up speed. She remembered noticing Donovan storming out of the gallery, but Nisha and Cassandra had never mentioned why, and she never asked, nor did Cat or Hunter.
“Why should it matter that she’s trans? He was into her. That’s all that counts.” Emma said.
“I mean, I don’t give a fuck if she was a dude,” Blue said with a shrug. “But, you know, everyone’s different. Not everyone’s okay with going out with someone who used to be another gender. Sam should be upfront.”
“She doesn’t want to identify as that person from the past anymore. Look what happened when Donovan found out. He dumped her,” Emma argued.
“Secrets like that always come back to haunt you,” Blue said and handed Emma a pair of jeans. She slipped them on. They were a little big around the hips.
The Ugly Girls' Club: A Murder Mystery Thriller Page 20
