𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

67

a few days later,

"HOW ABOUT THE MINT ONE?" VALERIE gestured to the sparkling bejeweled soft mint coloured dress hanging neatly on the silver rack, accompanied with the four other dresses we were considering.

They were all Gucci dresses, sent by the brand for me to wear at their event tonight. One of them, of course.

But making a definite selection was proving to be hard, mostly because all them were custom altered graciously by the brand to fit my body, and all of them were equally gorgeous.

Hence, we were situated in the second floor of Colson's mansion, one corner of the main hall boasting the gleaming rack of dresses, the other corner sporting an array of footwear we still had to decide from, while Olivia took a business call on the side and Connor sat criss cross on the ground a safe distance from the dresses and footwear, watching a cartoon on my-or rather his- iPad, air pods plugged into his ears as he squinted at the screen in concentration.

It had been five days since the night Colson fired the housekeeper, and despite what he had claimed, he had rightfully no time to set aside and hire a replacement, so I had taken over the job myself and he had been too grateful to argue.

So my days since then had come to include an hour and a half where I sat and interviewed prospective housekeepers who answered for employment, though I hadn't had any luck thus far. Which, in turn meant that Connor was forced to become part of these work meetings, just so that I could watch over him with no one else to do the same.

Colson was busy with putting the details of his tour together, and now that he was leaving for it tonight, his time for the past days had been spent largely outside with his record label and on impromptu gatherings hosted by one or two of the artists who were going to join him at some points in the tour.

He had only come home to sleep, and he had been too exhausted to even talk to me properly before he had stumbled off to sleep, and then when I'd wake up early to prepare breakfast for him and Connor-for lack of a housekeeper but mostly because I wanted to-he'd already be off.

Last night Colson hadn't come home at all. He had taken me to a party given by Travis Scott, a small event to celebrate the new Machine Gun Kelly tour. I had reunited with Sophie there, talked a little with Kourtney Kardashian, much to the surprise of the her sister Kim. Pete Davidson and Stokes were both there too, but Pete had been my sole source of comfort in the midst of that party. He had dropped me back at Colson's mansion too, after Colson had asked him to.

Travis Scott was a undeniably animated rapper. He had held his position as the host of the small party with fervor, making sure his buffet table was loaded with every flavor of grass and powder the world at large had to offer. As a result, the party was full of artists and celebrities looking like they would tumble to the ground and sleep for days, but not their host.

In fact, Travis Scott had been so full of energy, even after having smoked the most, that he insisted upon a practice run of the show he was going to do with Colson in Miami as part of the tour, so Colson in turn stayed to oblige-or humor-him.

But he didn't come back, and Connor and I had to have breakfast alone together without him, for the third day in a row.

I wasn't frustrated, I was merely just upset. He was going to be away for six months, I had hoped that he would at least spend some time with us before he had to leave. But then again that wouldn't have been the case had I agreed to go on tour with him, he wouldn't need to make time to spend with me, at least.

So I didn't say anything when he'd call later in the day and apologize that he had work to do. I would say it was alright, it was always alright.

"Davina, you have two more applicants," Olivia called then, putting her hand over the receiver. "Shall I give them the same time?"