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The Redemption

January 2019

Nora, admittedly, is sick of the taste of champagne.

In the past six months, Nora has done enough celebrating to last a lifetime. From wrapping her first official film back in May, to finalizing the official premiere dates in New York City, Los Angeles, and London, to now—standing in an overcrowded club wearing a too-tight dress clutching a champagne flute slippery from condensation on New Year's Eve.

She's sick of the bubbly, fuzzy, airy feeling champagne leaves settling in the pit of her stomach. Instead, she'd much rather welcome the warm, bitter, familiar taste of whiskey sliding down her throat. But unfortunately, Dom Pérignon is Scott's choice of drink, so she stays quiet and slowly sips the expensive liquid, letting the bubbles percolate in the glass as she watches her new friends dance around her.

Avalon is the brand new club Scott's best friend Anthony recently opened up. He had been planning it for years, and after Scott's generous investment, the space transformed seemingly overnight from an empty warehouse to a glitzy Los Angeles nightclub filled to the brim with celebrities, socialites, and Instagram models.

Nora looks around the table where she's currently situated, holding her barely-sipped glass of champagne as she realizes she has no idea who half of the people surrounding her actually are.

She notices Roxy with her new boytoy of the month, mouths suctioned together and hands wandering in places that should be reserved for locked bedrooms. She notices Roxy's friends whose names she always forgets, holding up their iPhones as they take videos and pictures of the other wearing their gifted designer dresses with the promise of free press and sipping from expensive bottles they didn't have to pay for.

She notices Scott's friends from college, men who always hang around the house who smile at Nora and only initiate small talk in between commercial breaks of the Lakers games.

She notices girls who remind her so much of herself when she first turned twenty-one—pupils enlarged with wide-eyed wonderment wearing dresses that are too short, trying their hardest to look like they belong when in actuality, this environment is nothing like the one they're comfortable with.

"Isn't this amazing?" Scott whispers against the shell of Nora's ear, his lips grazing her lobe causing her to nearly drop her slippery glass on the laminate flooring.

All she can do is nod halfheartedly, watching the way his eyes are glazed over in drunken merriment as he places a sloppy kiss on her cheek, turning towards his right to laugh loudly with a friend of a friend, somehow always being the life of the party.

Nora wonders how she can stand next to him and feel the complete opposite.

All of a sudden, a quick flash of dark curly hair flies by Nora's periphery. And when her vision focuses and she sees long legs and even darker skin covered in a bright pink midi-dress, Nora practically feels her bones relax at the sight of a familiar face.

"Ebony! Over here!" Nora screams out, discarding her nearly full glass on a random table so that she can wave her arms up over the crowd, her five foot four stature struggling to gain dominance over a crowd filled with Amazonian models with legs as long as skyscrapers.

When Ebony's mahogany eyes land on Nora's, she watches her friend huff out a sigh of relief as she strides over to the table, dragging Jeremiah's six foot five body past the barricade of Roxy's friends who look at the newest additions to the table with slanted eyes.

"Nora! Sorry we're so late, the line—"

"—Was ridiculous," Jeremiah interrupts, a deep frown covering the smooth lines of his face as he observes the faces surrounding Nora's table.