FORTY-SEVEN
ELIJAH
“Times Three!”
“Smile here!”
“Times Three, look over here!”
“Give me your best smile!”
Camera flashes that feel like punches to my face temporarily blind me. My smile twitches, reminding me I’ve been posing for photos for almost half an hour.
“Times Three, where are your significant others?” someone in the sea of paparazzi shouts.
Would it be rude if I shouted back,None of your fucking business? It would be. I’d find my face on magazines and social media, shaming me.
Meanwhile, the paparazzi’s harassment is okay because that’s their “job.” My smile falters, and everyone’s faces become blurry with rage. What brings me back to the present moment is Leonidas’s fingers pinching my back.
“You look like a cold-blooded murderer. Smile, bitch,” he grits between a fake-ass smile no one sees through as they continue snapping pictures.
Throwing my arm over his shoulders and squeezing him in a brotherly embrace, I say through a smile, “So, I look like you? That’s always been my dream.”
Amelia chuckles to my left, but she somehow remains looking like a perfect princess pop star.
“I’m going to punch you when we get home.”
“Same. You’d better hide,” I chirp back, letting go as the train of celebrities in front of us on the red carpet moves up, allowing us a moment to breathe.
“Did that feel extra-long today?” Amelia mutters nervously while glancing around at the bustling fundraiser party. Fanning herself with a portable fan, she walks in the middle of my brother and me.
“Instead of spending millions of dollars to throw this party, why don’t they use this money that’s being wasted and donate it themselves?” Leonidas accepts a glass of champagne that a server extends out to him.
“Then all these rich-as-hell people wouldn’t be in the same room.”
His eyebrows quirk up. “Would we still donate if we weren’t able to make it?”
One of our main priorities is donating to a bunch of charities. We always said we’d support people in need if we had more money than we could think of. Today, we are attending my favorite charity of all time. The cause is getting mothers and children away from dangerous homes.
Not sure if it’s because I have been there and watching your father become a monster is like living in hell or … maybe there isn’t anor.
“I’d give them all my money.” I steal my brother’s glass and take a big gulp.
“Oh my goodness, look who it is!” A girl appears, stopping all three of us in our tracks. A memory of her is fuzzy in my brain. “Let me tell you, I am absolutely starstruck.”
Amelia laughs anxiously. “No need to be starstruck. We are just human after all.”
The girl pulls my sister into her arms and shakes her with passion. “Says the real-life Barbie!” She gestures to Amelia’s sparkly Barbie-pink mermaid-style dress that falls to the floor. “Everyone in the room is looking at you, darling.”
Music to my sister’s ears …
“Sorry, it’s been a crazy year. Can you remind me of your name?” Amelia sends her a small smile, but the girl appears to be shocked.
“I was in a music video of yours a couple of years ago.”
Immediately, I want to pull away—not only did our old team hire her, but we worked with her as well. I send both my siblings a look; call it the triple telepathy, but we know to watch what we say.
“Why do you look so scared all of a sudden?” She casts us all funny looks as a fake nervous laugh leaves the back of her throat.
