Diamonds Dancing

Thirty Eight "Part Two"

PART TWO

Flashing lights blinded his blurry vision. He could barely see a thing, a concoction of various drugs in his system making it impossible to focus on one thing only.

Laid out on a vacant couch at god-knows-where, the aspiring producer titled his head back. His freshly tatted neck stung but he chose to ignore it, wanting to relish in his euphoric state.

More faces passed by in a shadowy haze, the bass from the blaring music could be felt under his feet.

She was wearing a simple white dress the first time he had seen her. Her glow was overlooked by overprivileged hotshots and wannabes. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, a smile stuck on the edges of her lips. Her cocktail dress clung onto her body tightly but conservatively, leaving much to his imagination.

As the stunning blonde slowly approached his relaxed figure, he couldn't help but notice the innocence beaming out of her right away. 

Had he gone to heaven and been blessed with the most beautiful guardian angel?

No. There was no way in hell he had made it into heaven, not with all the things he had seen or done.

"Ty krasivyj." Soft-spoken, he would've missed her words had he not been staring at her already.

She was calling him handsome. That took him by surprise, predicting she would be another lifeless fame chaser like the rest of them—her confidence was a breath of fresh air.

Russian. He wanted to be amazed, during his short time in Los Angeles thus far, he had yet to meet another person from his motherland. But he was positive one of his friends had given her the heads up since she was making the first move.

"U tebya krasivaja ulybka." His husky voice responded, seeing her smile grow bigger.

A brave move, that was for sure.

He knew she would regret her actions soon enough. They almost all did.

"I'm Dasha," she introduced politely, sitting down on the stained couch.

She looked so put together, her long legs crossing over as she perceived her bottom on the very edge. "Happen to have a lighter by any chance?"

Contrary to popular belief, he didn't have one. Thankfully, all he had to do was rummage through the inside of the couch to find a lighter adorned in weed leaves.

She watched him pull it out, and chucked it over to her.

"Slater." He bluntly greeted, giving a head nod at the cigarette in her hands. "Isn't it some sort of federal crime for a model to be smoking in broad daylight? What would the agency say?"

Of course, he wasn't being serious, watching her under drooping lids.

She brought the stick up to her glossy lips, smiling into it. "Just wait until you find out most of us snort cocaine like our lives depend on it."

"Us? That's including you too then, yeah?"

Pulling a face at that, the younger girl simply shook her head. "I should've made it clear, I'm actually very serious about my career."