Old Money ꔫ JJ Maybank

four

JUNE 8
night

Nighttime rolled around rather quickly, moonlight replacing the previous scorching sun. Harlow stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting the hem of her black latex dress. It hugged her figure perfectly, stopping just shy of scandalous. She'd traded her daytime ponytail for loose curls that cascaded down her back, every strand meticulously curled to look effortlessly tousled when in reality it took her an hour. The makeup she applied was flawless — a smoky eye to match her mood, lips glossed with a red tint that promised danger.

The house was silent, her parents off at some swanky dinner party with the Camerons. She could've gone too, made small talk with Sarah, maybe tried to hook up with the older brother who'd she never met but seen pictures of. He was twenty and she was sixteen, but who's counting? Sexy enough.

But the thought of spending another evening exchanging fake smiles with Sarah and sucking up to the Cameron family made her feel nauseous. She'd had enough of those stiff, controlled environments where every word had to be measured, every laugh perfectly timed. That's why she was slipping into something tighter, shorter. To show the world her value.

Harlow gave herself one last look in the mirror, letting her eyes linger on her reflection. Why would she ever want to be some poor Pogue on a speedboat worth as much as her last pedicure when she looked like this, had these things? she thought as she closed her bedroom door.

She didn't need their carefree laughter or cheap beer. She had the kind of luxury that spoke for itself — the high-end fashion, the designer bags, the flawless skin her mom paid top dermatologists to maintain. Who needed freedom when you had control?

She swallowed her doubts and headed outside, ready for a party. Snapped her fingers are her driver was there, ready to escort her to an address she got online from some boy named Kelce who was apparently hosting a party.

Don't worry, she wasn't stupid, she did her research. He wasn't about to kidnap her. He was a friend of Sarah's brother and ex, a rich boy who lived walking distance from her family's new beachside estate.

Kelce's party was supposed to be one of the biggest of the summer, at least according to the Instagram stories she'd scrolled through earlier. Harlow knew the type — trust fund kids with too much alcohol and too little supervision. It was exactly the kind of scene she needed tonight: loud, chaotic, and anonymous enough that no one would dare look too closely past the mask she wore.

As the sleek black car pulled up to the sprawling beach house, the thump of bass-heavy music vibrated through the air, spilling out into the night. Harlow smirked as she took it in — kids were already hanging off balconies, red Solo cups in hand, laughter and shouts piercing the humid air. The scent of weed and ocean salt hit her as soon as she stepped out, the warm breeze carrying an energy that was electric, intoxicating.

"Be back at one," she told the driver as she smoothed down her dress and adjusted her hair. She didn't wait for a response before strutting toward the front entrance, where the crowd was thick, everyone vying for a taste of summer freedom.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, she could feel eyes on her. The black latex clung to her curves, and her heels clicked confidently against the marble floors. People whispered, but she didn't care to hear what they were saying. It only confirmed what she already knew — Harlow Hadid was a fucking spectacle.

She spotted Kelce easily enough, standing by the kitchen island, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a mediocre-pretty brunette on his arm. He turned, noticing her arrival, and his eyes widened in that appreciative way she was used to. Harlow gave him a coy smile, her lips curving just enough to promise trouble.