You were at another one of your father’s lavish Hollywood parties. He introduced you to plenty of actors up and coming, and famous. He always had parties for upcoming movies he was working on.

You swirled your wine glass, the deep red liquid moving in the delicate China in your polished fingers. Trying to mingle at your father’s Beverly Hills home, the air sticky but comfortable. Numerous times you were offered to start your life as an actress, but you wanted to study first, attend college. But then that was now well and over you needed to find purpose.

Until you smell a whiff of smoke, you look up. There he is, Lucien Flores, the proclaimed and sell-out actor. Why was he here? Your father made it clear he never really enjoyed his performance. Was he to star in his next movie? You thought to yourself.

You saw him schmooze with others he knew, that cocky laugh made your bones shiver.

As the time went on, you are in the gardens on your 2nd tired of all the big shots trying to flirt with you. Your leg crossed over the other. You then hear a familiar deep voice, “you got a light?” He asked with the cigarette in between his lips.