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Chapter Two
KISHA
“We look too broke for this shit,” Avery whispers as our Uber pulls up in front of Pandemonium.
She’s not wrong. We spent all week putting together our costumes, but standing here looking at the line of Lamborghinis and Ferraris? The women stepping out in designer everything?
We don’t fucking belong.
“Stop it.” Jessie adjusts her angel wings. “We have invitations with our freaking names on them! We’re supposed to be here. Period.”
Kaylie’s already strutting toward the entrance in her skin-tight devil costume like she owns the place. Fake it till you make it is basically my girl’s life motto.
The building doesn’t look like much from the outside: all black glass and subtle lighting. But the LINE? Holy shit! Hundreds of rich people in Krampus masks, horns, and costumes that probably cost a freaking mint! I recognize a tech CEO from Forbes, two Instagram models, and is that a fucking Jonas brother?!
The bouncers are mountains of muscle in black suits, with earpieces that make them look like Secret Service agents. My stomach drops as we approach. They’re gonna laugh at us.
“Invitation only tonight, ladies,” one of them says without even really looking at us.
My hands shake as I pull out the black envelope. And the moment he sees it, his entire demeanor changes.
“My apologies, miss. Right this way.”
What the hell?
The rope parts, and the crowd stares as we’re escorted past freaking everyone: celebrities, billionaires, people who’ve probably been waiting hours.
The second we step inside, I understand why someone would sell their soul to get in here.
The entrance is a tunnel of stars, like literally: the ceiling projects constellations that move and shift as we walk in. The bass from inside thrums through my body. But it’s not overwhelming, more like the building has perfect acoustics designed to make you FEEL the music.
We emerge on the main floor, and I gasp.
Three stories of pure luxury expand all around and above us. There are crystal chandeliers that look like frozen fireworks. Bars made of what might be actual gold. Go-go dancers in cages that float through the air with no visible support. The dance floor is packed with bodies in costumes that belong in museums.
“Holy fuck,” Kaylie breathes. “The bathrooms probably have attendants who make more than my dad.”
A server appears in front of us. She’s stunning, wearing a costume that’s basically strategic sparkles.
“Ladies, your private booth is in the VIP section, on the third floor. May I escort you?”
“VIP?” Kaylie’s already heading for the stairs. “Move, bitches! We’re about to live our rich-girl fantasy!”
The staircase is glass that lights up under our feet as we walk up. By the second floor, I’m dizzy from sensory overload. Every corner holds something impossible. A bar made entirely of ice that doesn’t seem to melt. Dancers whose costumes look like they’re made of freaking living butterflies! A fountain that flows up!
The third floor is different. Quieter, darker, even more exclusive.
The hostess leads us to a curved booth that overlooks the entire club. With our names engraved on a golden plaque on the table…
“What the hell is happening?” I whisper.
“Who cares?” Jessie pours for everyone. “To the weirdest, most baller night of our lives!”
We toast, and I take a sip of the insanely delicious drink. It tastes like… I can’t even describe this shit.
The Girls
I’m laughing at something Kaylie says when I feel it. It’s like electricity’s zipping up my spine. I turn in the direction of the sensation, and my glass slips from my hand.
