Welcome to 1926. The beginning of Hollywood.
But for actress and petulant diva Victoria Singh--a woman who's gone from rags to riches, it's all but a dream. With movie sets, interviews, parties, and events, she has her hands tied while still dealing...
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With the amount of trauma my life had been through thus far today alone...I didn't know how I was even still standing.
It was like one bad thing just kept happening after another.
Once I returned to Victoria and saw her in the car nearly sweating bullets while weirdly and uncontrollably shaking her tiny soft hands—if I could recall what they felt like again, since she seemed to freak whenever I tried to touch her now, I was further closer to throwing in the towel for this forsaken job 100%.
However, after she nearly punched me in the face–correction, did do quite a number on me with incredibly strong force if I may add without so much as an apology, I started to become more passionate about digging up a terrible secret from her life after all. I wanted a reason to make sure she never won any kind of award for the rest of her life. A reason why she didn't deserve anything but a kick out of Hollywoodland for good.
What better way to do so however, then get inside her house and see what I could find there? See, it was all about strategic planning.
And before anyone knew it, Victoria Singh would be broken like a record.
It was a great plan in mind. But even that inkling of a feeling started to dwindle down when I saw the one thing I was surely not expecting to ever see again.
She had kept something of mine.
I couldn't wrap my head around as to why though. So, I did what any formerly brokenhearted man would do at the time and took it back.
Although I couldn't help but to notice while I was trying to misdirect myself from her by adoring the wildly talented Chanel, once Victoria touched my arm for the first time in forever, something else strangely sparked back in my system from this look in her eye the more it was away from her.
It was like she was almost pleading for a part of our memory together to stay. Like it was worth a million clams somehow. So fine, I let her keep it.
But if I was being honest with myself for a moment, I didn't mind.
I was thinking the same. It would be like a piece of what used to be kind and beautiful between us, aside from throwing literal punches at each other now. Whether it was because of fame, money, or something else...I needed to get to the bottom of her downfall.
"Collins?!" Gregory shouted a bit angrily, walking up to my desk.
I quickly gripped my fedora over my eyes while dumping out my cigarette that she seemed to hate in the nearby ashtray. I was trying to make it seem I was on a break and asleep. But he didn't have to get in such a lather about whatever it was now.
It was the next day and I had only a couple of hours here before Victoria decided to wake up from her Egyptian cotton covered slumber, from what I could make of her bed yesterday.
