Clexa (Taylor's Version)🤍
I wanted an excuse to write heavy angst + messiness with lots of social media
Clarke and Lexa are celebrities in L.A.'s Hollywood scene, and have been broken up for a while, but can't quite move on from each other. Thei...
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"You actually wore a red dress..." Costia laughs when Lexa emerges through the emergency exit door.
"You said I could." Lexa shrugs with a grin.
Both giggle and make their way through the back hallway towards the main room, poking their heads out from behind a corner just enough to scan the mild crowd.
"Hang back, it's all in the timing." Says Costia, "Imma go find my dad, stay here."
Lexa stays put as Costia disappears into into the group of bodies in her glittery silver sequence dress. Looking around, the room was mostly middle-aged men or older, with a few older women in stuffy pencil-skirt suit outfits, and a healthy amount of token assistants (more likely mistresses) that you could pick out by their drastic age difference from their male companions, pretending to be interested in conversation behind empty, glazed eyes.
Then there are the walking pocketbooks - Network execs and reps from streaming services and smaller production houses. Occasionally actors or actresses from the projects would be sucked into making an appearance, usually the up-and coming fresh meat that's just starting to make waves in the industry, because it wasn't uncommon at all for them to more easily garner funding from others hoping to also get to work with them in the future.
The room is overall still awkward small talk and introductions. It's early, and these kinds of fundraiser events always started off like this - boring.
Everyone makes their rounds in the room, greeting peers and acquaintances, the same conversations happening over and over hearing from fellow execs and directors about each one's latest passion project and ideas 'in development'. Non-stop name dropping of who's already committed and on-board and what names are being 'targeted' for lead roles.
It's all a big dick-swinging contest.
But as the liquor flows and the DJ takes over, these stuffy execs turn into overgrown frat boys trying to relive their glory days, as the lips get loose and the wallets even looser.
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Costia nimbly weaves around mingling bodies searching for her father, trying to avoid eye contact and more importantly physical contact as she learned very young that so much as a simple brush against the wrong person at these kinds of things would garner her an uncomfortable amount of attention and advances later on in the evening. These sorts of environments were all too natural to her, having grown up around it.
