“You’ll be surprised. Some of us wealthy offspring have hearts, you know.”
The party carries on, getting busier.
More people arrive. All of Ayana seems to be here, besides the Outcasts, of course.
This is definitely the posh crowd. It’s in the way they sit, move, walk, and talk like there is not a worry in the world and the air is privileged to seep into their lungs.
Stilettos. Dresses with furs of all colors. Givenchy purses. Gucci belts. Those are the brands I recognize. The party is blinding from all the bling. Extravagant hairstyles. Hours of makeup. Smooth skin. Fake smiles. Chic. Pretentious voices. Obnoxious laughter.
I might be too judgmental, but only an extraordinary amount of money gives such confidence that is intimidating.
A guy with female mannerism, wearing red pants, a translucent black shirt, and blue curly hair walks by and stops to give Marlow a kiss on the cheek, then points at me. “Oh, honey, with your complexion and body you need a Versace. Minimum. Just above the knee skirt and more exposure to this bust.”
He walks away, swinging his hips.
“Who’s that?” I ask Marlow.
“Cece’s stylist.”
I choke on my cocktail with a tiny umbrella. “She brought her own stylist to Zion?”
“Yes. Also a cook and an assistant.”
“What does she do?”
“Designs jewelry.”
“I mean, after the Change.”
Marlow turns to me looking annoyed. “Sweetie, life didn’t stop after the Change. Definitely not for the privileged ten percent.”
“Right.”
“Have you been to the east entrance to Ayana? The road that goes along the shore?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you see a Lamborghini and a custom Mustang there? They were brought for racing. Considering the dirt road is too shitty for racing, that’s just entertainment.”
“No way.” I saw those when Archer took me for a ride.
“Yes, way. You know, Archer has three bikes. Plus a helicopter. And a jet. And his yacht, theEmpress. And two speedboats. And his is not the largest fleet.”
“Huh.” I know Archer is a millionaire. Billionaire? I’m not even sure. But that type of luxury is overwhelming. “You just dirt-shamed me. Thanks, babe.”
Marlow only laughs, then lights a joint and passes it to me. “I didn’t mean to, sorry. It is what it is though. Look around.”
“Do you have a jet? Or a helicopter? Or a yacht?”
“Nah. Only a speedboat.” He smiles. “Well, and a sports bike. And one of those cars parked at the East entrance. A Lamborghini.” He grins.
“Sssstop,” I hiss, but I’m unable to hold back a smile.
“And you haven’t been to my crib yet. That’s odd, now that I think about it.”
“Let me guess, you have a pool and a waterfall.”
“Plus, a steam room, a video game room, a recording studio—”