Crazy Bitch (Bitches and Queens) (6 page)

Not having been able to sleep
on the plane, Willow was still groggy the next morning. When Hannah had said
she had packed for her, Willow hadn’t anticipated that she planned on dressing
her as well—or styling her hair and doing her makeup. Normally, she didn’t mind
Hannah’s fussing, but she hadn’t been able to enjoy her morning coffee as the stuff
they served here was so much stronger than what she drank back home.

“Hannah, stop,” Willow groaned
and shooed Hannah’s hands away.

“Fine,” Hannah hissed. “If you
don’t want to look your best… Oh wait, it’s not your goddamn reputation on the line,
is it?”

Willow conceded reluctantly,
and was even more unwilling to admit she did end up looking fabulous, which was
nothing short of miraculous considering she didn’t feel her best. By the time
they arrived at their first fashion show, Willow was starting to come alive
with excitement. Sitting in the front row beside Hannah, sandwiched between so
many A-List celebrities and socialites, it was hard not to be excited. Willow
lost track of the times one of them came up to Hannah and told her it wouldn’t
be the same without her on the runway. Like a sponge, Hannah soaked up each and
every one of their lavish praises.

Halfway through the first show,
it occurred to Willow what was off. It wasn’t her lack of sleep or Hannah’s
morning bitchiness. It was the fact she had stepped inside Hannah’s world. From
the outside, it always seemed like such a luminous, enchanted place, but once
she crossed the threshold she discovered it had its share of dark, shadowy
corners and shallow people. Since she was a little girl looking at the famous
magazines in the drug store aisles, she dreamed of being here. She thought it
was the one perfect place left on this earth, but this was no Eden. What
disturbed her the most was that Hannah had been living here for over ten years
and hadn’t seemed to figure that out yet.

On the third day, they attended
a brunch held at the Ritz. Several famous designers, fashion moguls, and other
celebrities were in attendance. Despite Hannah’s early exuberance about having
Willow all to herself, Willow had already figured out her place in Hannah’s
life. Here, in Hannah’s world, she sat in a very distant backseat. Most of the
time, Hannah seemed to forget she had brought Willow along.

Although Willow had never considered
herself the jealous type, she was very annoyed when Hannah dropped her like a
hot potato whenever Lola Carmichael, former model turned socialite, came into
the room. Hannah had started raving first thing this morning that they were
sitting beside Lola at the brunch. Having enough of chasing after her like a
lost puppy, Willow decided to stay behind with the personal assistants and
behind-the-scene employees.

As soon as the glittering stars
disappeared behind the closed doors, she was instantly besieged by Lola’s P.A.,
Raul Rodriguez.

“I heard the rumors, but I had
to come meet you for myself. May I say, you might be the bravest woman I’ve
ever met. My name is Raul; I’m with Lola.”

“Hello, nice to meet you,”
Willow answered politely. “Why do you think I’m so brave?”

“You’re Hannah’s P.A.,” he said
with a shrug, as if that said all there was to say.

“No, I’m actually an intern,”
Willow corrected.

“Good Lord,” Raul exclaimed
dramatically. “You’re not even getting paid to put up with her shit. I don’t
know how you do it. That woman terrifies me.”

“She’s really not that bad.”

“Whatever,” Raul said as he
rolled his eyes. “That bitch throws stuff at me every time we are in closed
quarters. And Lola says she’s a dead aim. Hannah misses on purpose to avoid
lawsuits.”

Willow started to chuckled but
stopped when she heard Hannah yell out from across the room.

“Willow, what the fuck are you
doing? Get your ass in here,” she yelled impatiently and started snapping her
fingers.

Willow’s eyes narrowed lethally
as she crossed the room. “Don’t call me like a dog,” she gritted through her
teeth once she reached Hannah.

Hannah shrugged defensively. “Seriously,
what in the hell are you doing in here? What do you think you’re going to learn
from
them
…?” she asked with disgust. “How to answer my phone and run out
to buy me toilet paper whenever I need to wipe my ass? You’re here to learn the
business—not how to be some goddamn parasite.”

Once inside the large
conference room, which was filled with several round tables that were cloaked
with starched white linen cloths and adorned with the finest china dishes,
crystal goblets, and beautiful floral arrangements, Hannah showed Willow to her
seat and then promptly ignored her for the entire meal. She was utterly
engrossed in Lola, and the two of them picked apart every other person in the
room. Their attacks were vicious and petty, and for the first time since they
met, Willow found absolutely nothing attractive about Hannah.

In between courses, Ian Ryan, a
talented and successful actor from a popular cable network series, sauntered
over. Something of a pretty boy, Willow had never understood what all the hype
surrounding him was about, but up close and personal, he was rather dazzling.

“Hello, Hannah,” he said with
his deep, gravelly voice.

“Hello, Ian,” Hannah said drily,
without looking up at him.

“I was thinking since we’re in
town together, maybe…” he started, but Hannah cut him off succinctly.

“No,” she said.

Not one to be put off so
easily, he chuckled. “But you didn’t hear me out,” he denied.

“No,” Hannah said again. “It
will always be a no. I don’t know why you insist on asking me the same
question.”

Ian looked over at Willow. His
mouth curled into an arrogant smile, and he winked. “Because one day I believe
you will say yes.”

“Go away, Ian,” Hannah growled,
“before I am forced to cause a scene.”

“Maybe that’s what I want? God
knows, the only reason I come back every year is to see your angel face coming
down the runway while the litany of profanities spew from your mouth. What a
combination—sweet and sour.”

As Ian delivered his
well-rehearsed lines, he looked at Willow. Probably because she was the only
one looking at him as both Hannah and Lola refused to look his way. Or maybe he
forgot which actress he was supposed to address? With his finger bent, he
reached out and tried to stroke Willow’s cheek with his knuckle, but never got
the chance as Hannah moved with the lightning speed of a ninja.

She held Ian’s hand down on the
table at an impossibly contorted angle. “Go away,” she gritted between her
teeth.

After he left, Lola chuckled
quietly. “I don’t understand why you won’t give that boy a chance. He’s been
chasing after you for years.”

“Yes, you do,” Hannah scowled.
Still furious that the slimy bastard had dared to pollute Willow with his
vileness, she thought to herself,
He’s lucky all he has is a torn ligament
and bruised knuckle. With all the cutlery so close at hand, I might have
reached for the knife first.

Lola clicked her tongue. “Not
in front of the children, darling.”

“Fuck you, Lola,” Hannah spat
and then looked accusingly at Willow. “You were talking to Raul.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Don’t,” Hannah demanded. “He’s
a fucking little bitch that likes to spread lies about me.”

Hannah turned away to stare
blankly at the crowd. First, Raul and then Ian. There was only so much she
could take before her temper erupted. And it was all Willow’s fault. With both
of the men, Willow had been so warm and inviting. Didn’t she realize they were
hideous monsters only using her to get to Hannah? They didn’t care for her at
all. Oh maybe they might fuck her, well, except Raul—unless Willow offered her
ass. And sometimes Willow was so stupidly naïve, she would probably let
them—just like she let her loser boyfriend fuck her.

“I hate this fucking place. It’s
filled with fucking little bitches,” Hannah hissed.

Willow looked around nervously.
Several people at their table and the surrounding tables were watching. Their
eyes were aglow with anticipation. As discreetly as possible, she reached for
Hannah’s hand.

“Hannah, don’t do this here,”
she whispered.

Hannah looked down at where
Willow touched her skin. Normally, she didn’t encourage affection from her pets
unless she had invited it first, but Willow wasn’t a pet and there was
something comforting about the feel of her skin. Hannah blinked several times
and then moved her hand out of reach.

Looking back at Lola with a
slight smile, she explained, “He only chases because he wants to be the one who
fucks Hannah Fairbanks. That sort of thing would guarantee career mobility.”

Inwardly, Willow rolled her
eyes.

Later that evening, Hannah was
set to go paint the town with Lola. She didn’t actually like Lola. They were
more like best frenemies. Whenever they were together, they had a blast, but as
soon as one of them turned their backs, the other would slam her in the press.
The only reason she tolerated Lola was because she shared Hannah’s unique
desires. Always a bit of a slut, Lola had been married for years to a fabulously
wealthy Italian tycoon. The marriage was sham. The tycoon turned a blind eye as
Lola slept with other women because he was off doing the same thing. But Lola
didn’t just like any woman. She had a taste for ‘fallen angels.’ The more
checkered the past, the more she desired them. Lola had already made several
innuendoes about Willow, but Hannah had told her quite firmly that she was
off-limits. Of course, she didn’t trust the bitch, and hence Willow couldn’t come
along.

Hannah found Willow stretched
out on her stomach in the middle of her living room, working on a sketch. She
was torn. She wanted nothing more than to stay and spend a quiet evening with
Willow, but she really needed to go out and get this out of her system. Because
of her chaotic schedule, she wasn’t in Paris nearly as much as she wanted to
be, and there, situated in the middle of the Red Light district, was the most
exquisite club. Over the years, she had learned the hard way that if she denied
herself this most basic pleasure, she could be very intolerable to live with.
And she didn’t want to do anything that might spoil her relationship with
Willow. So really, she was doing this for Willow.

“I’m going out for the evening,”
Hannah said.

“All right,” Willow muttered
without looking up.

Hannah frowned. Clearly, Willow
was angry at her. Everything about her screamed pissed off—from her indifferent
attitude, to the fact she was wearing her own pajamas, a neon tank top and old
pair of sweatpants with words painted across her ass, and not one of the pairs
Hannah had packed for her. At a loss, Hannah didn’t understand what she had
done wrong, but Willow had been sullen all afternoon. Knowing she could spend
hours trying to figure out what was wrong, Hannah decided to just ask.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Willow mumbled, once
again without looking up.

Strolling impatiently across
the wide room, Hannah leaned down in front of Willow. “You could at least
fucking acknowledge me when I talk to you.”

Looking up at last, Willow
muttered, “Huh? Sorry, did you say something? I was working.”

Hannah eyed her suspiciously, not
buying it. “Are you mad I’m going out without you?”

“What?” Willow questioned. “No,
of course not. Go on, have a good time with Lola.”

Hannah slowly stood with a
cocky smirk. “I didn’t say I was going out with her.”

“I just assumed,” Willow
answered as she looked back her sketch and attacked it with a series of bold,
angular strokes.

“Don’t wait up, darling,” Hannah
simpered at the door.

Willow was jealous. Good. In
the end, that sort of jealousy generally led to Francesca-like reactions, but
with Willow there would be no end. The fact that she felt it before they even
started playing the game was thrilling to Hannah.

So ecstatic, she barely noticed
when she parted ways with Lola at the club. It was always the same. Lola went
to her private room, and Hannah went to hers. They never discussed what
transpired beyond the closed the doors, but Lola often made little comments about
how insatiable Hannah must be that she always asked for two women.

Once inside, as the two whores
fucked each other every way possible with all variety of kinky, vibrating
devices, Hannah sat silently and watched. They wouldn’t stop until Hannah was
satisfied. She paid them well not to stop. No matter how many times they came,
and after years of voyeurism she could spot a fake, they would continue to fuck
until Hannah was spent.

Tonight, the two little dolls
were disappointed in her lack of endurance. Typically, she always outlasted the
whores, leaving them a quivering mass of ecstasy, but not tonight. Not when she
had Willow waiting at home. Having seen her fill, Hannah stood politely and
said, “Merci.”  

When Hannah arrived back at her
flat, Willow was still in the very same position as when she had left.
Stretching out beside her, Hannah lay on her side with her head propped up in
her hand.