Noir

Noir Extras: Maddox vs. Desiree

Among Maddox's biggest regrets? Ever saying yes to being a member of Chelsea's bridal party. It wasn't all bad, there were certainly worse scenarios she could've been involved in; last-minute, expenses paid vacations, five-star meals at upscale restaurants, spinning around dance floors of exclusive, luxurious nightclubs? Much worse.

Chelsea had a good heart. And Maddox was her friend, genuinely, perks aside. After all, she hadn't known anything about the woman that day they'd saved her from fashion disaster. Chelsea was kind, easygoing, and authentic to herself, which always made Maddox wonder what the hell she saw in Desiree Daniels. Where was the common thread holding that particular friendship together?

"It's really getting on my nerves, her acting like she's doing me a favor by being involved in my wedding," Chelsea was saying as she and Maddox sat together, chatting. "Is it too late to drop her?"

"I don't think so, but I'm biased," Maddox said, figuring it was best to be honest. "Has she actually been any help?"

"Hell no. She hasn't done anything that I couldn't have taken care of myself." Chelsea sighed, shaking her head. "I was drunk when I asked her to be my maid of honor. I should stop doing important shit when I'm drunk, huh?"

"I've learned as a general rule of thumb... probably so." Maddox wouldn't judge. She'd done her fair share of dumb shit, drunk or otherwise.

Desiree was everything Chelsea wasn't. Rude. Impatient. Snobby. Then there was that god complex, unlike any Maddox had ever seen. She'd just waltzed into the dance studio wearing six inch Bottega Veneta stilettos, slurping noisily from a Starbucks iced coffee, the last to arrive, like usual. The sun was beginning to set over Glendale, as apparent through the massive windows lining the far wall.

"Nice of you to join us, Desiree," Ava sneered from where she was stretching out her limbs on the shining wooden floor. The rest of the bridal party had arrived nearly twenty minutes before and had formed a loose circle in the center of the room, chatting and discussing the adventure that lie ahead. A pole dancing class. More bonding.

"Traffic," was all Desiree said, high heels clicking against the floor as she teetered over to a corner, dropping her Birkin bag next to the other girl's belongings before stepping over to check herself out in the mirrored wall. While everyone else wore t-shirts and leggings, she was practically painted into a pair of jeans and a crop top, both of which even Maddox would admit she looked pretty fucking hot wearing, but to a pole dancing lesson?

"Extra. The bitch is extra," Isabel said, rolling her eyes as she stretched her arms upward.

"Only thing extra here is those pounds on you, sweetie," Desiree shot back over her shoulder, blue eyes icy as she scowled, still combing her fingers through her hair.

"All right, we're not gonna start this shit today," Chelsea piped up, glancing between the two as she stood to her feet, tying up her long hair before planting her hands on her wide hips. "This happens every time and I'm sick of it. And she's not lying, Desiree. You're the one who set this up to begin with. And you show up late dressed like we're going to the club."

A heavy, awkward silence fell over the room. Typically, Chelsea didn't say much to Desiree about her actions, but the woman was stressed. The wedding planning was starting to get to her, she'd confided in Maddox not ten minutes prior, and maybe she'd finally cracked.

Even Desiree stopped moving for a moment, failing to hide her bewilderment as she frowned in the mirror and turned on her heels. "I'm sorry, Chels. I didn't have time to go home and change. I stopped by Kyra's pop-up thing after my photo shoot to wish her luck."

And for a few seconds, Maddox almost felt bad for the girl. She suspected Desiree wasn't nearly as confident as she'd have everyone believe. And unless she was reading it wrong, Maddox thought maybe something was bothering her. Like she was on edge.