8. Wicked!

My first mistake? Drinking. Does drinking really make you feel better? 'Ultimately, rarely' says my own Hindsight 20/20.

A slice of how my life's going...

My second mistake? Not following my first mind about Freddie. He thought he could get whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. I don't know why I even allowed myself to get tied up in all of that in the first place.

Nothing happened. I mean, I guess he doesn't really owe me an explanation or anything, persay. But.. it's the principle of the matter isn't it?

My day is already rolling into itself. I'm running on nowhere near enough sleep.

If I'm honest with myself, really honest... I'm not over it. I'm just not. As much as I want to be strong, I'm still hurting.

Did I let Christian down? Is it my fault there's no more "us?"

I looked at the clock hanging over my vanity, seeing that an entire hour of the morning had already been wasted. Now I'm going to be behind on my way to Dior. Why do I allow myself to get distracted like this? I know what I need to do. I need to focus.

"Men." My lips curled with disgust as I blocked out another particular memory I wanted to bury and delete.

Drawing my heavy curtains closed, I pulled the stopper and drew water into my bathroom sink bowl. I like watching it fill up like this... In a way, it's calming. I wish my mind would settle with more ease.

When water flows, it's this tranquil peace. When you hear it, it's pace is perfect. It's adaptable. Even when fast, it's right on time. Water cares not of the movements made yet supports and flows all the same.

Lovely how Eleanor had left both red and pink roses in today's vases. She knows I like those. How thoughtful. I dropped a few petals into the filling sink, watching them weigh under the water.

Closing my eyes, I immersed my face into water, hoping it's coolness on my skin to cleanse my thoughts. Exactly how many shame tornados do I live through per day? I'd be scared to tally it up.

Never seem to get it right when it comes to the "love" thing. With Christian, things just slipped through my fingers, even though I knew it was happening. Maybe it's just, I don't know. He was just.. the first guy I ever really felt I really connected with. He really "got" me. I miss that.

With Freddie, it was so easy to just forget about all of that. But, was it something I said? Maybe his Hindsight 20/20 kicked in for him too this morning.

As intrusive as ever, no knocking, mother stormed into my suite and threw a stack of paper at me. "What's this??"

Lifting my head and drying my face, I squinted at a lease for the guest house drawn up in Eleanor's name that I'd requested from our attorney. "She has nowhere else to go. Without a suitable living arrangement, she could lose Oliver."

"You're so dramatic about everything Estella," mother threw back what was probably her third glass of brandy before 10am. "Turning our home into some homeless shelter for maids.. handing out ten thousand dollars to the help like candy.."

There she goes, possessed by her poison, silencing me like she always has. My body stiffened as my entire being tried to avoid THE memory I never wanted to relive. "You don't care about anyone but yourself."

She couldn't even bear to look at me, only shrugged, knowing her silence would draw me out.

"Are you horrified with yourself yet???" I hate how she got under my skin. I hate what she did to me even more. I hated most that she tried to forget. "Do you go to bed at night thinking about how disgusting you are?"

*slap*

Quick as a whip, my mothers slap stung like venom. But not as much as her denial. "I will not apologize for the decisions I've made."

Don't. Don't start. Don't. Do not start crying...

Too late.

The tear down my cheek showed all my cards.

As much as I wanted to forget, I still wanted answers.

"...Why did you let him do that to me?"

Of course she didn't answer. Long ago, she'd assigned the burden to me. The wealth, the status, the accolades, all outshined the darkness from wherest they came...

Here came my tears. Exactly what I didn't want. And now they wouldn't stop.

"You are just like your father." Her eyes, dilated, demonic. "Learn some respect."

She picked up a pen off my vanity, threw it at me, and slammed my suite's doors behind her. I picked up the empty glass of brandy she left and threw it at the wall of avoidance she put up between us, screaming through my tears. "You are WICKED!" The glass shattered on my doors, all over the floor.

I'd swallowed that anger when it was a fire-seed, more than I could manage, and so it grew and grew until it erupted.

"Is everything alright Miss Sorino??"

"Wait!" I stopped Eleanor who gasped when she came to check on the arena after our fit. "I made a mess, I'm so sorry-"

"It's alright...it's quite alright Miss. Please. Let me." Always a step ahead, Miss Eleanor. She'd already swiped a broom from the finishing room's closet and began sweeping up the glass off the marble floor.

I shut the door of my suite's second room where Chai and Mia had chosen to hide from our controversy. Wiping tears from my face, I tried to clean up the hysteria I hadn't intended to display.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Some kind of way, I was going to need to work a Marry Poppins miracle with the compact mirror and concealer I pulled from my purse.

Another hour behind schedule had me livid, and if another passed, I'd surely spiral the rest of the day and guarantee nothing got done.

"Everything alright?" Nigel glanced back at me through the rear view mirror, his white gloves at ten and two.

Didn't take much, apparently only a simple question to trigger my tears again. Why for the love of god couldn't I just answer the question...

"Miss Sorino!-Oh, I'm so sorry-I didn't mean to-"

"No no, Nigel, it's not your fault it's..." An emotional firehose would surely result in more tears and with a side of regret for lunch. "It's not your fault. Just a spout with my mother is all." I summarized with a smile.

Fanning my eyes, I opened a fresh pack of portable cucumber pads and placed them over my eyes to calm the puffiness before cleaning myself up with some concealer.

"Ms. Sorino's so been thrilled about your spread in Vogue Italia!" He offered, hoping to build a bridge.

"You are too kind Nigel. Thank you." I smiled, leaving it at that. Poor little rich girl... he'd think. What does she have to worry about.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Okay.

Deep breath.

What's done is done.

I needed to leave this morning behind and focus forward. I took one last look at my recollected reflection in the French luxury fashion house's window before stepping through the front doors.

The lobby, an exhibition. A beautiful nod to the famed French designer's love for British culture, the installation a reconfiguration of Christian Dior's Couturier du Rêve at Musée des Arts Décoratifs. The lobby's exposition unveiled over 300 couture gowns of the House of Dior's body of work.

Jalisa Carlisle read the silver name plate across the Client Coordinators fitted red shift dress, reflecting off her glasses and clipboard greeting me as I entered. "Estella?"

"Yes" I lit up. "Last night I met Mr. Dior-"

"Recognized your face." Jalisa cut me off and jotted down a note. "He's not here but..." she flipped through the forms on her clipboard, jotting down even more notes. "But he did mention he wants to get you fitted for Milan's spread.. right this way." Her hasty movements on up a grand spiral staircase leading me to the Atelier meant business. "Glad you could come on such short notice."

Picking up my pace, I followed behind her. A nice change when no one mentioned my family name. A part of my world my mother hadn't yet corrupted.

All white walls reflected flawless natural light all around the upstairs fitting studio. Bright eyed models all around already overshadowing me before I could get a handle on feelings of inferiority.

I stepped over a line of tape holding a string of umbrella light chords in place, passing the whir of a fan on a makeup counter in between photographers giving directions. Camera shutters clicking all around me.

Get in where you fit in for hair and makeup, fast paced fashion in full swing for the next Italian spread. Spring couture, by the looks of the wardrobe choices. My favorite. This day was starting to look up.

"Estella?!"

My eyes widened and I wanted to scream when I heard her call my name. Pure panic.

"Oh‐hey... Lauren.." was all I could muster up to the chipper smile lighting up Lauren's face who too, carried a clipboard.

"It's so great to see you!" She touched my arm, her warm smile beaming brighter than the sun itself, so much that it burned. She clapped her hands. "We're going to have so much fun together!"

"So.. you've been working at the fashion house?" I tried to make cordial conversation. Tried. I can't make a scene and blow this opportunity just because god is punishing me.

"Yes! It's amazing. I've always wanted to work in fashion."

She led me to a hair and makeup counter where they'd shade me and size me up for an outfit fitting. I followed, still screaming internally. If one more girl shows up with a bloody clipboard...

"Look at you two..."

As if it couldn't get any worse, with not one but two girls with lint rollers primping his collar, here came Christian West.

His charming smile couldn't be missed when he opened his arms and hugged me, squeezing me tight against his chest. I could tell he'd just taken a shower. Exciting me as much as it panged me, Immediately, I missed his familiar security. "Missed you..." he whispered in my ear.

He hugged Lauren too, except much more briefly. Look at him... taking her under his spell with such ease. It took everything in my power not to roll my eyes right out of my head. There's no way he wasn't aware of his effect he had on women and enjoying it.

Lauren's twinkling smile probably egged him on even more. "You ready?" She led us toward a fitting counter, glued to Christian as we both followed her.

It's thousands of times harder to get over your ex when you work together. Every time I turn around, there he is. Again. Here I am, trying my hardest to heal, yet every time I see him, the gaping wound in my heart opens right back up.

Lauren sat Christian and I down at the same makeup counter. "I know all the photographers here. I'll let them know you're both here now." she smiled before taking off.

I sat in my chair, faced forward, tried not to care, and prayed this nightmare would somehow get canceled.

I could feel Christian's eyes on me and the gleam in them when he scooted his chair closer to mine. "You look even more beautiful when you're trying to avoid me."

"I'm here to focus on work." That was my truth. And I meant it.

"Remember when we said one day we'd both be in Dior? Together?" Even when the makeup artist tilted Christian's chin up so the photographer could assess his bone structure for the spread, he kept his eyes on me.

"I remember." How could I forget? We'd dreamed about it while watching the sunrise on Moraine Lake. "But that was then."

"Estella...you know I wouldn't been here if it hadn't of been for you."

Finally, I looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I wouldn't be here without you. Matter of fact, I thought to myself... if Estella hadn't encouraged me to keep going, I would have quit a long time ago. Remember?"

"I remember."

"You know... the first time I saw you, I knew all my games had to stop" he chuckled, his smile derailing me off my road to acceptance. "When I met you, I knew you could be the one."

...Why the hell did he break up with me then???

I tried to keep my voice down. "Why are you telling me this?"

I knew that look of his. When he finally dropped his guard and let someone in. Gave me his undivided attention.

His eyes still hadn't left me. "I just needed you to know."

What the hell did he mean by that...?

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Needless to say, Estella was having quite a day.

Meanwhile, two of The Queen Boys decided to embark on their own quest without telling the other two just yet.

"We don't have to wait! Why should we wait?? We've been waiting. And what of it?! They'll stick us up in some chicken shack if we leave it up to them..."

Active Charmer Roger Taylor: dead set on making some of his own advancements for Queen. What else was he to do? Wait on Trident to drag their feet some more about it?

"Contract milking us dry.. Tsk," Freddie shook his head, slamming the car door behind him when he stepped out. He'd gotten to enjoy a tantrum freely without Brian's berating around.

When a bright marquee over the theatre with the names of performers caught his eye, he imagined Queen's name there, theatre packed.

Crossing the street, Roger took off into a run up ahead towards the theater's doors, frowning to find them locked. He cupped his hands around his face, trying to see inside the tinted windows. "Hey!!" he knocked, loud enough to scare the nearby birds away.

"Someone's coming" Roger squinted as a voluptuous silhouette approached the door.

"Good." Freddie already began celebrating that their plan would go on. "They better come." he smiled.

"She looks hot..."

"Mmm..Is she?" Freddie raised a mischievous brow, his mojo ready to do his bidding for him.

Roger's eyes widened when Estella opened the door for him. "Estella?! Hey!!"