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artificialqueens · 2 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 106 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: The Galactica Fashion Week Runway show went off without any major malfunctions.

This Chapter: Welcome to the Afterparty! Networking, awkwardness, flirting, drunken shenanigans and a threat of homicide (or not…we certainly didn’t hear anything).

***

There was a genuine smile on Fame’s face after the show closed, and Trixie could finally relax.

The show was a success. Everything was fine.

Of course, there would be the evaluations, the meetings, the press, the sales figures, but none of that really mattered if Fame wasn’t satisfied with what they had created.

In reality, Trixie just wanted to go home, to spend time with Katya, but he had promised Fame to hang around at the party, had even changed into a suit and tie for it, the jacket as always restrictive and uncomfortable. There were still plenty of shows, Raja and Fame would be leaving for Europe on monday at the latest, but as far as Trixie was concerned, his role at fashion week was fulfilled, at least until the late spring.

Trixie took a sip from his champagne flute. He had hesitated before grabbing one, his sense of solidarity towards Katya’s sobriety even fiercer now that she was pregnant, but he was allowed a glass to celebrate a well-received collection.

“Trixie!”

Trixie coughed, nearly choking on his drink as he came face to face with none other than Chad Michaels. Chad was one of New York’s most well known philanthropists, and therefore also someone that everyone in fashion had some sort of working relationship with, since she constantly needed new fabulous clothes.

Chad was in her 60s, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying and experimenting with fashion, her dress for the night a gorgeous Galactica in beautiful cranberry red from the holiday collection.

“Just the man I needed to see!” Chad smiled as she grabbed his elbow, a slightly manic look in her eyes, heavy jewelry dangling from her ears, the scent of Chanel reaching his nose. “The closing dress. Has anyone claimed it? Please tell me I’m the first one!”

“Ah.” Trixie should have expected that Chad wanted to buy it. She was one of their most loyal customers, constantly photographed in their designs, and never shying away from praising the brand. Of course she would want Violet’s dress. Their newest designer had really outdone herself yet again. “I’m really sorry, but I think it’s an archival.”

The Galactica archive was something to behold, Ivy guarding it with her life, the room temperature controlled and as secure as any bank vault. Trixie hadn’t heard Raja make the final decision, but he had seen the look on Fame’s face, had felt the mood shift amongst the audience as they were moved by the piece.

It was too early to tell, but Trixie wouldn’t be surprised if fashion journalists would look back at this very show as a pivotal moment in Galactica’s history.

“I’ll be damned.” Chad sighed heavily. “I was hoping to wear it for the Met.”

“You haven’t decided on a dress?” The Met Gala was only three months away, the first Monday in May approaching at a worrying pace.

“I thought I did, but nothing truly inspires. You know how it is.”

Trixie nodded. Unsure of what to do, how to help, when he spotted exactly who he needed in the crowd.

“Violet!”

Violet turned, and he beckoned her over. She walked towards them, and as Trixie took in her bright eyes, the pink flush of her cheeks, he realized that she must be quite tipsy. He wondered if bringing her over was a mistake, but too late now. So instead he put an arm around her shoulders.

“Violet is one of our most fabulous couture designers. She designed the closing look that you love so much.”

“You did?” Chad asked, eyes widening as she took Violet in.

“Yes.”

“Congratulations dear,” Chad said, lifting her glass in a toast. “You have a great talent.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, of course, I’ll talk to them about the dress you want, but if I can’t make that happen, what would you say to this extremely talented young lady whipping you up something custom for the Met Gala?”

Violet turned to him, a panicked look on her face, gripping his jacket. “But, Raja-”

Shit. He hadn’t told her that Raja rejected all of her designs, or that he’d enlisted other concepts from Aurora, because he didn’t want to stress her out this week, not with everything she was dealing with being back in Fame’s office. And he certainly couldn’t explain all that right here, right now. He leaned in and spoke softly, under his breath.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work it out. Just play along, we’re making a sale.”

Violet nodded, and turned back towards Chad with a smile, who was looking at them with a delighted expression, hands clasped together.

“Well that sounds divine! With your design genius and my impeccable taste, we’re bound to blow them all away!” Chad smiled, then glanced around before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Granted, I do wish the theme was better, but…whatever Anna says goes, eh?”

Trixie laughed, and looked over to see that Violet was giggling too. He relaxed a bit, feeling good, that Violet and Chad would at least get along fine, and that maybe this way she wouldn’t be too heartbroken about losing the Raja job.

***

“Okay,” Symone exclaimed, lifting her arms in the air. “Who’s ready for the next round?!”

“Almost,” Adore laughed, her arm draped loosely around Tati’s waist, pulling her in to say, “Have I told you how much I like your new roommates? They’re fucking fun.”

“They are,” Tati giggled, “but not good at pacing themselves.” Tati lifted her cocktail, the vodka soda a model standard that Adore knew all too well. “I’m not even halfway done with this one, how are you ready for another round?”

“These drinks are free and the booze is premium. Keep up!” Symone exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Right, Bim?”

“One sec.” Bimini tossed back the last of her whiskey and set the glass down on the table heavily. “Alright, love. Lead the way.”

“Yaaaas!” Symone pranced towards the bar, Bimini following close behind.

Tati turned to Adore, shaking her head. “I thought we drank a lot, but those girls. They fucking drink. It’s a little worrying. I mean, we’re like, at work.”

“You’re cute,” Adore laughed some more, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She’d been thoroughly annoyed when Bianca left, but maybe it was for the best. After all, now she had a chance to hang out with Alaska, Tati and her friends, and avoid the tense adult drama altogether.

“Thanks.” Tati smiled, then lowered her eyes, biting her lip.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah…um…I should probably tell you something.”

“Okay?”

Tati closed her eyes and sighed.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” Adore asked, squeezing her forearm. “You’re freaking me out!”

“I’m sorry. It’s probably not that big a deal, just…so, when we were backstage, Pearl was walking around. Taking pictures and shit.”

“Oh. Right.” Adore was trying not to think about her ex, wandering around the party, though of course she knew she was there. Maybe someday it would be possible to be in the same room as Pearl and ignore her presence entirely, but unfortunately, Adore hadn’t reached that stage just yet.

“Anyway…” Tati played with the cuffs of Adore’s jacket, biting her lip. “She clearly didn’t recognize me. Or like, remember that we’d hung out like ten times while y’all were dating, because…um…”

“She hit on you, didn’t she?” Adore asked. She could see how clearly uncomfortable Tati was, and wanted to end her suffering as quickly as possible.

“Yeah. But I told her to fuck off! I mean, I didn’t quite say ‘fuck off,’ cause I was like, not trying to get fired, but she got the message loud and-”

Adore wrapped her arms around Tati and pulled her in for the biggest, warmest hug.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too! You’re not mad, are you?” Tati asked, face tucked into her neck.

“At you? Of fucking course not!” Adore pulled back, taking both of Tati’s hands in hers. “But…I mean, thank you, for being loyal and shit. But…do you like her?”

“No! After how she treated you? I think she’s an asshole,” Tati said.

Adore grinned and nodded, squeezing her hands. In spite of feeling absolutely self-righteous about it at the time, Adore had been feeling some creeping guilt about the way she’d handled things with Dahlia. Maybe the situation wasn’t as black and white as she’d first assumed. Especially after her recent conversations with Aja, and getting back into band practice.

“Okay,” she said. “But…I mean, we’ve both moved on, obviously, so…if you did like her-”

“Bitch, she didn’t deserve you, which means she doesn’t deserve me,” Tati said, with a toss of her long, dark hair.

Adore laughed, hugging her again.

“I love you, so much.”

“You said that already.”

“I know. But I really do.”

“Same,” Tati replied, lashes fluttering.

“Uhh…hi? Am I interrupting something?” asked a voice, and Adore turned to see Alaska, looking a bit awkward, albeit fabulous, in a leopard-print pencil skirt and cropped black cardigan with turquoise trim, appletini in her hand.

“Lasky!” Adore broke away from Tatianna and threw her arms around Alaska, exclaiming, “Everyone looked amazing, omigod! Where have you been?!”

“Hi, thanks! Uh, long story, one of the freelance artists had an issue, but everything’s fine now. Are you guys, um…” her eyes darted back and forth between Adore and Tati.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good. Just having a bestie moment. Obviously you know Tati. You’re the one responsible for her face looking like fucking perfection.”

“Me and some stunning genetics, yup. Hello, Tatianna,” Alaska held out a hand for a strangely formal handshake. “Incredible work on the runway today.”

“Hi again,” Tati said, “Thanks.”

“So…I guess your sister’s not here?” Alaska asked.

“Don’t get me started,” Adore said, rolling her eyes.

“Right. Well, please tell her I said hi. I was looking forward to chatting about the makeup shoot.”

“Sure.”

Alaska took a sip of her drink, arm wrapped around Adore’s waist. After a beat, Tati and Adore exchanged a look. The energy was slightly weird, but Adore couldn’t exactly put her finger on why. Luckily, before she could worry too much, Bimini and Symone returned with the next round and soon everyone was chatting, the awkwardness forgotten.

***

“Hey, stranger…”

Karl turned to see Detox, his hair a cool, wintery blue that matched his sport coat, a wicked smirk on his face. He’d meant to say hi to him before the show, but had gotten stuck in traffic and only arrived with moments to spare, sliding into his seat just in the nick of time, his heart pounding at the thought of incurring Fame’s infamous wrath.

“Hi!” Karl pulled Detox in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “Why do you look like the cat that swallowed the canary? Got some big scoop?”

“Well, sort of, but unfortunately, not one I can use,” he said.

“Why not?”

“The girls are still fighting,�� Detox said pointedly, raising his blue brows and shaking his head.

“Ugh, that again?” Karl rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Bianca shot out of here like a bat out of hell, the second the show was over. Made some sorry excuse about another commitment.”

“It’s been literal months,” Karl said, “Don’t they have anything more interesting to worry about?”

“Why don’t you ask Fame?” Detox suggested, nodding towards the woman of the hour, who was striding towards them, her cream-colored cape billowing behind her, a beautiful woman in pale pink at her side. Detox sipped his drink, giving Karl another gleeful sideways glance. A dare.

Well, two could play that game. Karl pursed his lips and cocked his head, asking, “Why don’t you, tough guy?”

Detox blinked, and then his smirk grew slightly as he turned towards the women.

“Fame!”

Fame stopped and turned to them, her typically placid hostess smile on her face.

“Hello my darlings. How are you? Did you enjoy the show?” She walked forward, giving each of them air kisses.

“It was divine as always,” Karl cooed, happy to hang Detox out to dry on this one.

“Yes, wonderful,” Detox said. “And-”

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Karl Westerberg, Elite London.” Karl reached out to the young woman beside Fame, offering his hand, as Detox rolled his eyes, annoyed at the interruption.

“Hi. Shea Coulee. I’m a journalist, doing a profile of Miss Fame for Vogue.”

“Vogue, did you say?” Karl raised an eyebrow, just slightly. That certainly was interesting. “Fabulous.”

“Speaking of Vogue,” Detox cut in. “I noticed a certain someone seemed in an awful hurry to get out of here after the show.”

“If you mean Ms. Wintour, she’s right over there,” Shea said, gesturing to the other side of the party, where Anna Wintour was talking to Grace Coddington and Vanessa Van Cartier.

“No, I didn’t mean Anna. I meant…another Editor-in-Chief we all know…” Detox said, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “And I was just wondering if you had any opinions, thoughts…feelings to share about that?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Fame said. “And I’m also sure that if you keep gossiping about things in this manner, that I have a way to kill you that won’t ever be traced back to me.”

Fame smiled at him, the icy one with daggers in her eyes she reserved for special times.

“You do realize that you just threatened homicide in front of a witness and a journalist, right?” Detox asked, eyes wide with feigned shock.

“Doesn’t that tell you how absolutely sure I am that I won’t even be a suspect?” Fame asked, that smile back that should have terrified Detox more than it apparently did. It certainly terrified Karl. “Besides, Karl didn’t hear anything, did you Karl?”

“Hear anything about what?” Karl asked quickly, playing along.

“Traitor!” Detox muttered.

“I assume this conversation is off the record?” asked Shea.

“Well,” Fame twirled the stem of her champagne glass, looking Detox up and down slowly. “Is Detox important enough that it matters?”

Shea smirked, catching on perfectly, mimicking her supercilious gaze before saying, “Probably not.”

“Good,” Fame answered.

Detox opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out.

Fame patted him on the shoulder, smoothing down his lapel with a victorious smirk.

“Bye, boys. Behave,” she said, turning on her heel and sashaying off, Shea right at her side.

***

Bob technically wasn’t supposed to have a tray, but all it took was a little of his signature charm, some flirting with one of the servers, and bam! Now he had nearly 20 shots he could easily carry back to his table. On the way, he spotted little Violet, who looked like she’d had a few herself, all alone.

“Violet!” he called, grinning.

“Oh, hi!” she looked up and smiled back. She was wearing a black dress with long sleeves and a high neck, the outfit screaming unimportant assistant.

As he approached, he made sure the shots were balanced before slinging an arm around her. It was nice that Upstairs let them attend these parties in the first place. Bob sure wasn’t gonna be the one to give them a reason to stop.

“Hey girl! What are you doing all by yourself? Where’s Sutan?”

“Working-“

“Boring!” Bob groaned and Violet giggled, a smile of her lips as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear.

“Actually, I was just talking to-“

“Is it work related?”

“… Yes?”

“Then I don’t want to hear it tonight.” Bob looped his arm with Violet’s. “Come celebrate with us! Everyone wants to toast to you and that finale dress! You fucking slayed the house down!”

Violet laughed and rolled her eyes, following him to the table where some of the other designers were waiting, along with a few friends.

Kade, especially, seemed thrilled to see her, squealing and throwing his arms around her, then immediately pressing a shot into her hand. Several rounds later, Sutan finally showed up, looking a bit frazzled and worried, but recovering nicely as soon as he saw that his girlfriend was all in one piece, safe and emotionally sound.

“Sutan!” Violet gave an uncharacteristic yelp of delight, throwing her arms around Sutan’s neck and placing sweet kisses all over his face, Sutan laughing at the unexpected shower of pecks.

“Heyyy, it’s the boyfriend of the year!” Bob said, looking up at him with a grin as Sutan pulled away from Violet, carefully unpeeling her.

“Hi, Bob,” Sutan smiled. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Bob nudged Maxwell on the shoulder, knowing his boyfriend’s little crush was something that gave him endless embarrassment. “Maxwell, say hi to Sutan.”

“Stop it,” Maxwell hissed, then said, “Hi Sutan. Thank you for, um…the models.”

He cringed, and Bob patted him on the back.

“I hope they were well-behaved. Especially the new ones,” Sutan said.

“Oh, oh yeah, they did a great job,” Maxwell said.

“There ya go, that wasn’t so hard,” Bob whispered.

“I hate you,” Maxwell said under his breath, through gritted teeth, the smile still plastered over his face. He focused back on Sutan, offering, “Would you like to have a seat?”

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m just here to check up on Violet,” he said, passing her a drink.

“Are we leaving yet?” Violet asked, confused.

“No, no. I still have laps to make. You just stay with your friends. I simply wanted to make sure you were alright and still here. I’d hate to have to sacrifice another set of shoes later.”

Violet’s eyes bulged open. “Sutan!”

“What?” Kade asked, confused. “Shoes? What’s he talking about?”

Bob perked up, deeply interested. What could have made her react so strongly? This sounded like a story he had to hear.

“Nothing! He’s talking about nothing!” Violet said, shooting a death glare up at him making Sutan laugh.

Bob smiled to himself, lifting another shot to his lips. He’d keep that one under his hat for now; he could always grill Ms. Chachki later, maybe trade it for something once she was back in design.

Kade leaned forward, resting his chin on his knee, gazing up at Sutan. “Has anyone ever told you that you have real Daddy energy?” he asked, lashes fluttering.

Maxell immediately turned as red as a beet and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“OW!” Kade shrieked. “What?! He does!”

“Thank you, Kade,” Sutan laughed, “I think?”

“You’re welcome,” Kade said, leaning back, a smug grin on his face. He stuck his tongue out at Maxwell for good measure.

Maxwell turned to Bob with a scowl, muttering, “Next time you bring him, don’t forget the shock collar.”

“Have another drink, Cracks,” Bob said, handing over a shot.

“Um…” Violet looked up at Sutan, blinking slowly. “I actually think I have…had one or two more than I…um…”

“Are you saying you want to take off?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Violet said. She extended her arm and let Sutan pull her up into a standing position.

The guys called out their farewells, with Kade sure to sneak in a “Bye Daddy!” before diving into Bob’s lap for protection from Maxwell.

***

“Mmh,” Raja hummed against Raven’s lips, the two of them kissing. She knew it was the Galactica party, and that she should mingle as much as possible, but Raven was just utterly irresistible tonight.

There was nothing sexier than a Raven who glowed with confidence, who oozed the knowledge that she was hot, that knew she had done a good job, and few things boosted Raven as much as a fashion show gone well.

Raja moved, pressing Raven against the wall, holding her by the waist and kissing her neck, the scent of perfume filling her nose.

“Raj-” Raven moaned, cutting herself off, nudging her with her face. “Raja. My hair.”

Raja looked down, a strand of Raven’s hair caught in her watch, black and silver tangled together.

“Fuck.” Raja moved, which made Raven wince, a laugh escaping both of them as Raven grabbed her wrist and carefully freed her hair.

“Sorry.” Raja wrinkled her nose, settling her hands on Raven’s hips, giving her a squeeze as she leaned in to kiss her again, when Raven suddenly pulled away.

“Violet!” Raven waved, her boobs pressing against Raja’s chest, her fiancée practically crawling over her shoulder. “Over here!”

Raja turned her head, watching as Sutan and Violet came towards them, her brother smiling and waving back. Violet was clinging to his arm, leaning on his shoulder, and Raja couldn’t help the stab of annoyance at the sight, Violet practically acting like she owned him.

They all greeted each other, Raven grabbing Violet and hugging her tightly as Sutan pressed a kiss against Raja’s cheek, his low rumble switching to Indonesian.

[Congratulations] Sutan pulled back slightly, [on another job beautifully done.] He grinned, his eyes sparkling, delight dancing in his expression. [You up to split a cab?]

[Not sure I should leave yet. It’s sort of my company.]

[Oh yeah, and you’re doing so much networking over here], Sutan chuckled, wiping a bit of Raven’s lipstick off of the corner of her mouth.

“Touché,” Raja smirked, allowing her brother to touch her. [Okay, let’s go home.]

“Ooh! I know that word!” Raven perked up, making both Raja and Sutan laugh. “We’re leaving, right?”

“I’m glad to see your language studies are finally picking up, Raven.” Sutan smiled. “It took what? Five years?”

“And for that…“ Raven reached out, taking Sutan’s tie between her fingers, “you can come get the jackets with me.”

Raja hadn’t expected Raven to volunteer, such a menial task something she usually let others do for her, her fiancée the exact spoiled brat Raja herself had created.

She watched her walk away, but then, Raven glanced over her shoulder, a smoldering look in her eyes, a swing in her hips, and Raja realized that it was a tease just for her, leaving her behind with nothing for company but the throb of her clit.

That, and Violet, of course.

Violet was leaning against the wall, apparently completely content not to speak, her normally shrewd eyes wandering listlessly over the crowd, head lolling back. She definitely wasn’t her typical put-together self. Too many drinks from the open bar after a day of running around on an empty stomach, she suspected.

Raja didn’t think she hated Violet, but she didn’t have anything to say to her that wasn’t about work.

Unless…

The Galactica party was - obviously - filled with beautiful women, and Raja was struck with an idea. She quickly swept the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, that stood out from the rest. This would be the perfect time to get her uncensored opinions.

She tried to remember which model Violet had been enamored with during the casting—unfortunately, she was so annoyed in that moment that she forgot to make note of the girl, but she did seem to remember that it wasn’t one of the waif-y stick-thin ones, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t a white girl, either.

She spotted someone just right, heading towards the bar. One of their influencers, a sexy Filipino girl with an ass to die for (especially in the thigh-high Louboutins she had on), her long, glossy curls bouncing as she walked.

“What do you think of her?” Raja nudged Violet’s arm, pointing out the young woman with a subtle nod of her head.

“Marina Summers?”

Raja smirked, not really surprised that Violet knew the name of everyone at the party, even in this state. She was Fame’s assistant after all, so she had probably pored over the guest list, making sure to memorize it all, in case Fame needed it.

“Yes, her. Cute outfit, right?”

“Mmm. I like her handbag. Very on trend right now,” she said, a slight slur in her voice.

Raja rolled her eyes. Marina was wearing a low-cut, backless mini-dress that barely covered her ass, but of course her handbag was what Violet commented on. Raja decided to try again, gesturing to a stunning girl with rich, dark skin, an hourglass figure, and a fur coat hanging off her shoulders. All she wanted was for Violet to drunkenly comment on her body, her tits, something she could use.

“What about her? Isn’t she pretty?”

Violet turned to Raja with a puzzled expression, blinking slowly. “Are you trying to find someone for a campaign?”

Raja cringed inwardly, realizing what a nightmare it would be for her if Violet repeated their conversation back to Raven. She was disappointed that her plan had failed, but better that than to get in trouble.

“Yeah. We’re…well, I had an idea to maybe bring some more faces on board for this year’s resort collection. Not just models, but maybe some people with real followings,” she said, covering quickly, adding, “I haven’t talked to Pearl or Alyssa though, what do you think?”

“Oh, uhh…that’s not really my area.”

“Fair enough.” Raja sighed, noting with some relief that Sutan and Raven were heading back their way. “Looks like you’re off the hook.”

***

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Pearl said, winking.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the older woman purred, vodka oozing from her pores as she leaned in to press her lips to Pearl’s cheek.

Pearl knew that working the room was an important part of her job. (Especially her current company, a brand manager who had been giving them free liquor and bartenders at every party for the past three years in exchange for a rather modest company credit on Galactica’s website.)

However, she’d been at it all evening, and it was starting to get a bit tiresome. Even professional schmoozers needed a break once in awhile. So as soon as she’d extricated herself from the woman’s clutches, she took a deep breath and looked around for a friendly face, maybe a coworker with whom she could chill for a few minutes, just to catch her breath. Luckily, a couple of designers were nearby. And to Pearl’s delight, she noticed that April was among them.

She wondered why she’d never paid much attention to April previously. After all, she was definitely hot, and talented, and if their conversation earlier was any indication, she liked to play. Pearl fixed her face into a sad expression and approached the designers, looking as dejected as possible.

“Good lord, Pearl!” Blu exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

Pearl heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yeah…”

“Oh my god…” April muttered, shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” Gia asked.

“I just, um…have been having a rough…” Pearl sighed again.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” April said. She laughed and took a sip of her drink.

“April!” Blu admonished.

“Guys, she’s full of-”

“I thought you said that you’d talk to me about…nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you…” Pearl hung her head and turned slowly, taking a few steps away from the table.

“Pearl! Don’t go!” Gia cried. “April, what’s wrong with you?!”

“Ay dios mio…”

April hurried to catch up with her, just like Pearl hoped she would, grabbing her arm.

“Would you knock it off?” she hissed into her ear.

Pearl turned to her with a mischievous smirk. “Knock what off?”

“You are some piece of work.” April rolled her eyes.

“You love it.”

“I need another drink if I’m gonna hang out with you.”

“So, you do want to hang out with me, then,” Pearl said triumphantly.

April scowled at her, but then a smile began to crack through, and she turned on her heel, marching towards the bar. Pearl followed, checking out her pert little ass in the process. Very nice.

“Hey, can we get two double shots of Don Q rum?” April asked the bartender.

“You tryin’ to get me drunk?” Pearl asked, flashing a grin at her as she slid in beside her.

“I’m trying to make the experience of being with you more enjoyable,” April replied.

“Wow. A dagger, straight to the heart.”

April laughed, taking the shots from the bartender with a nod and shoving one towards Pearl, letting their fingers touch briefly. She bit her lip, looking at Pearl in the eyes, raising her glass. Pearl lifted hers as well.

“Salud,” Pearl said.

“Salud,” April replied, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth before tossing back most of the rum in one gulp.

Pearl grinned, impressed, downing hers as well.

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artificialqueens · 2 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 105 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: The model apartment was overrun with foreign visitors, Violet’s first NYFW showing was tainted by being demoted back to Miss Fame’s office, and Pearl’s womanizing ways repeatedly landed her in hot water.

This Chapter: Galactica Runway Show Day! But will anyone come out alive?

***

Gigi sighed contently, still half asleep, as Symone shifted in her arms. With how packed the apartment was, they’d been sharing Symone’s bed and letting one of their Eastern European visitors take hers. (Gigi felt a little bad that she still didn’t know the girl’s name, but every time she said it, it sounded different.)

Normally, she might overthink the whole bed-sharing thing, especially this many days in a row, but since they literally had 3 other girls in the room (the one in her bed and 2 on the floor), it felt more like summer camp. It was nice, actually, having Symone so close and cuddly all night without any pressure or expectations. She pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, nose brushing against the silky edge of her bonnet.

Symone turned her head, whispering, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Gigi whispered back.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Mmhmm…” Gigi touched her cheek, enjoying how perfectly soft and smooth it felt. How, in spite of the other girls in the room with them, the covers gave them their own private little cocoon of quiet warmth. “Did I tell you how pretty you looked last night?”

“No…but you can tell me now.” Symone grinned, fluttering her lashes.

Gigi giggled and kissed her on the nose.

“You were the most beautiful girl in the room,” she said honestly. “Nobody could take their eyes off you.”

“Well…I didn’t notice. I was just looking at you,” Symone replied, making Gigi’s cheeks heat up.

They’d been to a cocktail party celebrating Hugo Boss’s new cologne and perfume line, ‘Boss: the scent,’ which was a stupid name if you asked Gigi. Not that anyone did. It was still weird to her that so much of their job centered on events that they probably technically shouldn’t be allowed to attend, since neither of them were 20 years old yet. Although, at least they were over 18, unlike the girl in her bed right now, who she was pretty sure was barely 16 at most. She wanted to look after her, but on the other hand, what business did she have doing that when she felt like a kid herself most of the time? She shook the thought from her head and directed her attention back to her girlfriend.

Gigi leaned forward, brushing a kiss against Symone’s lips, when she was startled by a voice moaning out a distressed, “SYMOOOOONE!”

She sprang back a bit, lowering the covers, to see Tatianna clambering into their room, doing her best to avoid stepping on the girls on the floor, brow furrowed.

“OW!” one of the girls shrieked.

“Sorry!” Tati said, “Sorry, sorry…”

The girl sat up, rubbing her head with a petulant look on her face.

“Omigod, I’m freaking out about today! Did Sutan say anything about nails? Why am I freaking out?” Tati flung herself onto the bed, groaning, holding out her hands for Symone to inspect.

“You’ll be fine,” Symone assured her. “They chose you because they want you. Just take off the polish from yesterday and show up on time with me and Bim.”

Gigi swallowed. She still felt a little disappointed that she wasn’t walking in the Galactica show with Symone and Tati and Bimini—it felt strange to be one of the only “Amrull girls” not to book that job, like some black mark on her record.

“Tati, can I borrow this top?” someone called, poking their head into the room.

“Okay,” Tati sighed.

“Ladies!” Another visitor squeezed into their room, as Tia entered with a big smile. “Anyone up for a breakfast today besides fucking porridge? No shade to our dormitory mum, but I’m not Oliver Twist. Anyway, I heard that the Waverly Diner is quite nice. What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me!” Tati enthused.

“Yeah! What do you think, babe? We don’t have to be at Hilfiger until 11, but I know you had that other thing to take care of…” Symone turned to Gigi with one eyebrow raised, clearly giving her an out.

“Right. Um…”

“Can I come?” piped up a brunette from the floor, yawning.

“What thing?” Tia asked, head cocked.

Gigi liked Tia, she supposed. Or, she didn’t have any reason not to like Tia. Not a good reason, anyway, besides just feeling like there was something a little off about her energy. Something that rubbed her the wrong way.

“Nothing, I can come,” Gigi said.

“Smashing!”

“Coffee’ll be ready in 4 minutes!” shouted a voice from the hallway.

“That’s mine you bitch!” screamed another. Soon, the voices were indistinguishable, a cacophonous blend.

Gigi flopped back against the pillow, her quiet and peaceful little moment with Symone over as the chaos of the morning bloomed all around her, now impossible to ignore.

***

Raja watched as the Galactica staff moved swiftly backstage like a choreographed dance, everyone focusing on their individual tasks. She checked her watch. It was a men’s Rolex, the strap too thick for her wrist, but Raja liked wearing it, liked it a lot more than the slender feminine watches that didn’t exude the type of ‘fuck you’ power she needed. This particular one was a gift from Raven, a belated engagement gift given to her with a smirk and a request to test if it really was waterproof, Raja forcing Raven to come and come and come on her fingers until she sobbed into the sheets.

Raja pulled herself together, refocusing, thoughts of Raven’s body and the adorable way she cried for mercy really not what she needed on a day like today.

Fame always insisted on having their shows in the last slot of the day. While it did give her more hours to stress, it also meant that nobody had other shows and events to rush off to, so people were more relaxed. Or, as her business partner was now explaining to Shea, “In a more receptive head space. And, of course, there’s the added bonus that we can have our cocktail party immediately after the show.”

They were, somewhat miraculously, on schedule, the models slowly getting released from hair and makeup. Max had a backdrop set up in one corner so that he could document every look for internal and archival use, while Pearl snapped candids for social media and the website.

Raja knew Ivy had everything under control out in the house, her assistant keeping an eye on the floor personnel they had hired to manage the guests, the gift bags, and the press, the paparazzi probably already pulling up slowly.

“Raja…”

Raja turned to see Amy from makeup approaching, her signature candy-colored hair a bright blue to fuschia ombre done up in pigtails, her dress tiered ruffles that resembled an expensive cupcake, her tiny stature assisted by a pair of absolutely massive glittery purple platform boots. It wasn’t anything Raja would wear, but she appreciated the girl’s commitment to her signature look.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need your opinion in makeup. There’s a bit of an issue-”

“Of course, let’s go.” Raja threw away her coffee, following Amy to the other side of the backstage area—issue could be code for any number of things. She was always Fame’s second in command, but it was never clearer than when styling decisions needed to be made, Fame trusting Raja completely even as the entire reputation of their brand was on the line.

The issue in makeup was thankfully a small one; Amy simply needed Raja to make the final decision on a model who had gotten an accidental tan since the casting.

Raja was just about to leave, when she spotted Raven, who was sitting in one of the chairs, basically naked save for a couple of pasties and a beige thong. Raja did a double take, eyeing her up appreciatively, how her lack of clothing left nothing to the imagination, and maybe more charmingly, how she didn’t seem to notice that she was being watched.

Raven was chewing gum, her entire attention caught up in her phone, three stylists working on straightening her long black hair, and Raja couldn’t help but smile.

Enduring was all part of the modeling industry, the ability to completely disconnect from your body what separated the mediocre from the great, and though it seemed like her brother was losing faith, Raja still knew that Raven was the best.

***

The only thing keeping Violet’s raging anxiety in check was her years and experience at the ballet academy.

She was walking a few steps behind Fame and Shea, staying close in case she needed something, Nicky off with Ivy to be introduced to their more challenging tasks as Galactica assistants at a runway show.

It had been physically painful to walk away from her dress after putting it on Raven, but there was nothing left for her to do except hover, and no matter how much she wanted to, she didn’t have the opportunity for that. Not when Fame could need her.

Having Sutan over had accidentally helped her much more than she expected, the heavy weight of his body holding hers, his steady heartbeat and grounding presence keeping her mind from spinning out of control.

Violet took a deep breath through her nose, her fingers on the edge of her skirt. It would be torture to stand by Fame once the runway started instead of hiding away like she wanted to, but she had endured worse, and she’d live through this too.

***

Tati tried to stand still, doing her best not to think about what would happen if she damaged, or even creased, the priceless couture skirt she had on. She was a bundle of nerves, nerves she’d really hoped would have gone away by now. After all, she’d walked in four shows already this week, but this was different. This wasn’t Reed Krakoof, this was Galactica.

Even when she’d arrived, there’d already been paparazzi setting up. By now, there must be loads more. Plus, so many people who could literally determine the fate of her career—Sutan, of course, and Bianca, who she really hoped didn’t regret giving her the recommendation in the first place. Not to mention the buyers, the brands, the biggest movers and shakers in the fashion world, front and center, eyes on her.

It would probably be fine once she hit the runway. She knew that, at least, from her other shows this week. Once the lights were on, she tended to zone out and hyperfocus on her walk, her poses, forgetting everything. Backstage was another story.

Without moving her head, she shifted her gaze to Amy, who was pressing a last coat of highlighter into her cheeks with surgical precision. She hadn’t spoken to Amy too much the last time they worked together, but she knew that Courtney liked her a lot, and she seemed like a really fun girl. She wondered if there was any subtle way to bring up that insane Raven drama—a little gossip would certainly help keep her mind off things. Although, seeing as how Raven was currently present, and the star of the show, maybe that wasn’t such a great idea. Better keep her mouth shut.

Just then, Pearl Liaison strolled by. She’d been snapping some Behind the Scenes photos for their social media. She took a couple of shots of Tati and Amy before lowering her camera and giving a lopsided grin.

“You look great,” she purred, then tilted her head, letting the camera rest on her shoulder. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

Tati blinked at her for a full second before asking, “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Oh shit.” Pearl’s blue eyes widened, and she gave Tati another flirty once-over. “We haven’t slept together before, have we? Because I’m sure I’d remember-”

“No, we haven’t slept together!” Tati said, trying her absolute best to keep her voice civil. After all, this was still a job, and pissing off Galactica’s social media coordinator, or whatever the hell Pearl’s job title was, would probably not be the smartest thing. But what an absolute twat she was. “Jesus christ. But we have hung out, like repeatedly. ‘Cause I’m friends with Adore Delano? And Courtney Jenek?”

“Oh…” Pearl’s face fell a bit, at least managing to look a little chagrined.

“Yeah, oh. So you’re like, kind of barking up the wrong fucking tree.” Tati said, crossing her arms. She couldn’t believe the gall of this girl.

“Right.” Pearl cleared her throat awkwardly, taking a step back. “Uh, sorry…um…tell Adore I said hi.”

April was triple-checking that all the clothes for the changes were properly tagged when she saw the trainwreck begin, and then watched it all unfold with morbid glee. For years, she’d witnessed every woman Pearl so much as glance at throw themself at her feet, so seeing someone so blatantly reject her advances was hilariously refreshing.

“Uh, sorry…um…tell Adore I said hi,” Pearl was telling her, clearly a bit embarrassed.

“No.” Tati replied flatly.

At that, April couldn’t help but let out a snorting laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand but it was too late. Pearl looked over at her, giving her a bit of a dirty look. She waved back, owning it.

“Liaison! Come here!” she called, a delighted grin still on her face.

Pearl walked over, a look on her face that was an unfamiliar cross between a scowl and a pout, the expression of someone clearly used to getting her way 100% of the time, disoriented by this turn of events where one thing didn’t come out in her favor.

“What?” Pearl asked.

“Nothing,” April giggled, “Just nice to see you get taken down a peg. Also, you’re welcome for rescuing you from that awkwardness.”

“Thanks a lot.” Pearl huffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

April laughed again, reaching forward to tug on her hair. “Come on, it was funny. And it’s not like your ego can’t take it.”

“You don’t know what my ego can take. Maybe I have very low self esteem,” Pearl said, tossing her hair.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe that was really devastating for me,” she continued, playing it up, one hand on her heart, brow furrowed, full lips quivering.

“Hmm…yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry.” April placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell you what. Assuming we all survive this show in one piece, I’ll nurse your wounds at the afterparty.”

“Deal,” Pearl said, holding up her fist to bump with April’s.

“Now get outta here and let me finish my work.”

***

Fame chewed her thumb nail, trying not to be too obvious about it with Shea beside her, as she watched the live feed on the backstage screen, cameras mounted to the end of the runway, just behind the photography pit.

The first model had done well, the opening exactly as Fame had imagined it, Alexis’s dress a masterpiece, the looks now coming one after the other.

This was her collection, her vision come to life. The models practically floated down the runway, all perfectly embodying the exact feeling she’d dreamed of, a fresh breeze whipping your linen skirt around your legs while your yacht sailed through the harbor at dusk, chilled white wine in hand. They looked expensive and sophisticated, healthy and untouchable, exactly like a Galactica woman should.

Fame tried not to look out at the audience, tried to keep her thoughts in check.

The 16 minutes a Galactica show usually took always seemed to drag on forever, while also being gone in seconds, and before Fame could blink, the music changed and Raven stepped onto the runway.

“How do I look-“

Fame didn’t even need to finish, Raja right behind her, the models lined up to go again as soon as Raven gave her final pose.

“Fucking fantastic, Famie,” Raja smiled, squeezing her arm, “Now put this in your pocket.” She took her hand, gently directing it out of view, “and go kill it.”

“As long as it doesn’t kill me.” Fame hated being on stage, her appearance for the end of show bow and applause famously short, but the suffering was worth it, since the ovation meant that they had made it yet again.

***

Raven was bubbling over, happiness tight in her chest as she waited for someone to come undress her, Violet’s gown without a doubt going to the archives, the reception of it too good for it to not be regarded as a pivotal part of Galactica’s design history.

The show had gone well, the front rows even standing up when Raja and Fame had appeared on stage.

It didn’t last long, cameras flashing more than a lightning storm to make sure they got a photo, Fame taking a single bow while Raja had stayed behind to wave.

“Princess!”

Raven turned, watching as Raja came walking towards her, grabbing her before she had a chance to protest, pulling her into a hug.

“Raja!” Raven tried to pull back, attempting to put distance between Raja and what she was wearing, grabbing the skirt to protect it and pull it off the floor. “You’ll step on the dress-“

“You,” Raja put a hand on Raven’s cheek, guiding her in, holding her, controlling her, their eyes locked together, “were utter perfection.”

Raja kissed her, and Raven melted, the feeling of making Raja proud one of the most satisfying sensations in the world.

Bianca picked up her purse, thinking to herself what an impressive show she’d seen, especially that breathtaking finale dress. She felt a little conflicted about skipping the party. She’d gotten an invite, but for the first time, no handwritten note from Fame or Raja, and when she’d caught Fame’s eye after the show ended, Fame turned her back, clearly not wanting to talk to her. The message was pretty apparent, and if she’d been on the fence when the day began, she now felt fairly certain that she’d be an unwelcome sight.

She fished her coat check ticket out of her Birkin and held it up subtly as an eagle-eyed assistant rushed over to take it from her hand, only to then look over into her sister’s scowling face.

“What?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Adore asked, arms crossed.

Bianca sighed. They’d talked about this, albeit briefly, and she’d told Adore that she wasn’t sure if she’d attend the party; maybe she’d stop by, although she probably wouldn’t stay long.

“Look, it’s just not gonna happen tonight, pussycat-”

“You can’t leave. You’re my date,” Adore cajoled.

“Nice try,” Bianca grinned, poking her gently in the ribs. “But Alaska’s your date, remember?”

“No, that doesn’t count, she’s working.” Adore turned her mouth down into a pout, giving her very best puppy eyes. “Come on…”

“You come on. It’s not like I’m abandoning you to a roomful of strangers. Alaska’s here, your friend Tati’s here. Hell, it’s a whole fucking party full of people who love you. So-”

“They love you too.”

Bianca bit her lip. She knew that Adore wanted things to get back to normal. And of course, she did too, but unfortunately, wanting it didn’t make it true.

“That…is debatable, at the moment,” Bianca said quietly.

Adore furrowed her brow, a look of desperation in her eyes. She opened her mouth, about to protest, as the assistant returned with Bianca’s forest green vintage Versace trench.

Bianca smiled graciously, thanking her, as the young woman helped her into it, then leaned forward to give Adore a peck on the cheek. “Tell you what. You make nice, play family ambassador, and I’ll keep on supporting you in the lifestyle to which you’ve become accustomed. Sound fair?”

“Please, B, just-”

“Leaving so soon?” cooed a familiar voice, right in her ear.

Bianca turned around, sighing slightly. “Hey, De. What’s up?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Bianca Del Rio. Why are you running out so fast? Got a hot date?” Detox smirked, his eyes glittering in the low light like they always did when he was on the trail of a good story.

“If you must know–”

“Always!”

“I have another commitment. I’m a very busy woman.”

Detox crossed his arms. “Another commitment? On the day of the girls’ show? Really?”

“What’s it to ya?”

Detox smiled, that slimy smile that said he knew something about you. Bianca rolled her eyes.

“De, tell her to stay,” Adore said, “At least for one drink.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Adore,” Detox said, tapping his chin as he pretended to think deeply with his single brain cell. “These other plans she has must be very important. Better hurry, get there while they’re still…young and perky.”

Adore facepalmed, clearly expecting more from him (why, Bianca wasn’t sure, it was completely expected for him to be exactly that tasteless).

“Grow up, Detox,” Bianca scoffed, and began to walk away.

“Bet you don’t tell her that, do you?” Detox called after her.

Bianca turned and looked back at him, eyes narrowed. “Awww, look who’s all brave, wearing his big boy panties when the wifey’s not around to keep him in line.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he laughed, holding up his hands in mock innocence.

“You’re an asshole.” Bianca shook her head, slipping on her sunglasses. It may have been nearly dark outside, but she didn’t want to deal with the press right now.

“And you’re a-”

“Ughhh, you guys! Stop!” Adore groaned.

Bianca looked at her, lowering her shades. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Stop stressing, it’ll all be fine. I promise. You can tell them I loved the show.”

“Okay,” Adore sighed. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, pussycat.”

“No goodnight for me?” Detox asked.

“Goodnight, cunt!” Bianca said, turning back around and heading for the door, hearing his laughter fade as she went.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity.” Sutan smiled, squeezing the hand of the man he was talking to. “I’ll make sure to email your people, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“You’re the best, Amrull!”

“You know it.”

Sutan kept the smile on his face as he walked away, pulling his phone from his pocket to send a quick reminder to himself.

He was almost done with his official work for the day, networking on behalf of his models always intense after a really good show, and there was a reason that Galactica was known as the best in the business.

He had taken time to give each of his girls individual feedback, Raven rolling her eyes while Bimini had laughed at him, but Symone and especially Tatianna had seemed like they were paying attention.

The show had been incredible, Sutan watching it from the front row, everything coming together and working seamlessly, Fame’s intense attention to detail and endless drive for perfection stamped all over the collection.

When Raven had stepped on the stage, an excited murmur rippled through the crowd, and Sutan had felt his heart swell with pride, Violet’s dress so distinctive, so very her, the gown the perfect way to close the show.

“Sutan!”

Sutan turned, almost dropping his phone as Violet threw herself at him, Fame finally releasing her from her iron grip.

“Did you see?!” Violet was smiling widely, happiness radiating from her. She had changed her clothes since he last saw her, her black dress obviously picked to blend into the background at the cocktail party.

“I did, I did,“ Sutan chuckled, the public enthusiasm so unlike the Violet he knew, her beautiful smile something he usually only saw in private. “You did amazing.”

“It didn’t fall apart or anything!”

“Didn’t fall apart?” Sutan raised a brow, surprise overtaking him. He couldn’t remember that ever happening to a Galactica piece, their tailoring department always doing their job, and Raven had been raised right, his soon to be sister-in-law knowing how to walk so she never risked tripping on a hem.

He was about to question it, to ask why Violet would think that, but then, he remembered who he was talking to.

His Violet, his girlfriend, the wonderful woman who more often than not wound herself so tight he was scared she’d snap.

Of course she had worried until the very last second.

“Oh lovely eyes.”

“I know, I know,” Violet laughed, clearly so thrilled and elated, the anxiety that Sutan had seen wear her down completely obliterated from her gorgeous face.

“I’m really proud of you.” Sutan knew they were in public, but when he leaned down to give her a peck, Violet put her arms around his neck, pulling him in for an actual kiss. He felt his heart sore, a happy Violet beyond delightful. They broke apart, and Sutan grinned, “Let’s go get you a drink.”

“I don’t know…” Violet bit her lip, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. “I’m technically at work…”

“Hey. If needed, I’ll deal with Fame.” Sutan squeezed her, knowing that he meant it, that he’d be willing to do that for her if she needed it. “You deserve to celebrate. Champagne for the lady at the very least!”

“Okay.” Violet smiled, his girlfriend adorably easy to convince, like she had been waiting for permission that Sutan was more than willing to give her. “Okay.”

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