It's safe to say the minute the video loads, revealing Orson bending over a girl who's definitely not Georgina, she runs up the stage and screams at the DJ to stop playing the video.

The DJ fumbles with the laptop playing the video but it's a painfully long five seconds before he finally puts a stop to it. It doesn't matter if only ten seconds of the video was played but the damage has been done- everybody is mouth open, shocked, and completely thrown at the fact that a video of Georgina's boyfriend is fucking a girl who isn't Georgina is being broadcasted in front of everyone on her eighteenth birthday.

"You!" Georgina turns towards me. It's unmistakable. The video reveals the other girl as blonde and curvaceous in black lacy La Perla lingerie; her hazel eyes and tanned skin is the same as me. "You couldn't keep your hands off him, couldn't you?"

I smile at her but it's a cruel smile. "I'm sorry your boyfriend's pig; I thought you should know."

Parker joins me up at the stage and has her hand on her hip, a condescending smirk on her lips as she eyes up Georgina like a piece of gum underneath her shoe. "You should've known better to come back, Georgina."

"You bitches are so pathetic. This is just such a grotesque attempt at inciting jealousy."

Parker laughs, "Wait, you think Amory is trying to make you jealous?"

"Er ... wasn't that what she was doing?"

"No, honey, she was trying to make me jealous." Parker exchange looks with me and my eyes glint with the smirk I paste on.

"You?" Georgina asks, puzzled.

My eyes glint as I walk closer towards her. We're eye-level now, even though she's miles taller than me. "Oh, of course. Didn't Orson ever tell you? I thought you guys shared everything. I guess he never told you I'm not the only girl Orson's been with; Parker's the girl Orson and I had our threesome with, sweetie!"

Georgina's cheeks flush as the whole crowd gasps. Some people start recording everything. I look Georgina straight in the face and keep chattering lightly, "Orson's so talented at making sure two girls are occupied. By the way, does he still do that trick with the underside of his tongue? Parker was too prissy to let him go down on her, but my God, on me he would stay down there for hours."

Right then, believe me when I tell you, the tears streaming down Georgina's face as she flees the ballroom just puts the cherry on top of a really good night.

-

"Did you see the look on her face when you told her about the threesome?" snickers Nadine as a uniformed waiter wearing white cotton gloves serves us the in-house cocktail out of a huge Venetian glass punch bowl right next to us. Laughter explodes out of my chest as she shows me the Snapchat story of Georgina breaking down in tears and running out the door.

"I know," snorts Parker.

"Has someone already uploaded it to VieuxRiche?"

"Obviously."

"How many likes and comments so far?"

"Thousands; any more and it's viral."

A tinkle of laughter follows, not just from me but a bunch of us. Anabelle Mcleod holds up her champagne glass to me, "Well, let's toast to Amory. To probably the best way I've seen an Elite get dethroned so far."

We clink glasses and we cheer. I know what you're thinking- we make your average suburban mean girls look like Mennonites but it is what it is. We're seated on the couches of Georgina's VIP table, eating her cake and her Dom. We thought why let a good party go to waste? So we keep guzzling down bottles, dancing on tabletops and destroying all the precious crystal wear.

At the corner of my eye, I see Orson approaching, walking through the crowd. With his Brylcreemed black hair swept up in a pompadour and him in an all-black Saville Row, his eyes look deeper and darker than I've ever seen them. All the girls in that ballroom are watching him over the backs of their boyfriends, over the rims of their champagne glasses. Hoping they'll get a chance now that Georgina is out of the picture. Even the girls from Seaton, a Catholic school, snatch glances at him. I hate being just one of the many girls drinking in Orson's good looks. It makes me feel like I'm part of a collection.

"Looking for Georgina?" I ask Orson bravely when he reaches our table. I'm dangled over the chaise lazily and let him look me over.

"You've been a bad girl, haven't you?" Orson sighs but his tone borders on amusement rather than heavy disappointment.

Another girl could get shy in a moment like this. But I've been naked in front of him many times. So I'm not shy. I stand up instead and put a hand on one of my hips. I let him take me in. I flutter my dark silk eyelash extensions at him, which are so heavy and wispy they fan out and make my eyes appear more cat-like.

I thrust back my shoulders and tilt my head up to him, revealing my swan-like neck. "Oh come on, it was funny."

"That's my girlfriend."

"Not anymore," I grab a chunk of Georgina's birthday cake and pop it in my mouth, "She dumped you, I'm guessing. But I guess if a video of my boyfriend fucking another girl played like that on my birthday I would too."

"Really, Amory? Releasing your own sex tape?"

I pout at him, "Why not? I look good in it."

The girls around me laugh and I look at Orson's unmoving face. The corner's of his lips quirk into the ghost of a smile. He's impressed. "The threesome thing was a little bit far."

"Well, it's the truth. I thought she should know everything that happened between us," I say, faux sweet. The girls watch our exchange with much interest, taking note of how I'm able to checkmate him.

"You make your point. Now can we talk in private please?"

I made Orson say please. "I'll be back, ladies."

"Or not," mutters Parker and the girls laughing behind me.

Orson leads me to a curved collonaded terrace away from the ballroom, trying to find a quiet spot behind the tall oak-panelled doors. The drinks I've been guzzling since the afternoon is starting to settle and dinner has been a tiny affair- all the little appetisers of peach-coloured lobster tails plated on chanterelle mushrooms and half-moon potato tarts with tiny canisters of foie gras are not doing much in absorbing the gallons of champagne and Grey Goose. I'm feeling a little drunk, which is good for dealing with Orson on a night like this. It fuels my flirtatious nature, making my tongue lose, slippery and brave.

"What do you want?" I ask him.

"I'm just saying congratulations. Good game you played there." There's a flicker of a lighter, a flame goes up and a cigarette is in between his fingers. He offers me a box. Ultra-Light. I take one and he lights them as well.

I like how I look with a cigarette, especially like this. In the old-fashioned klieg lights that cast a silver-screen glow, my hair shines golden and my skin is glowing. Red lips and all in a party dress as well. The cigarette completes my look, making me seem effortlessly cool and careless. 

"What game?" I make an innocent face at him.

"Like you don't know what."

I sigh and drop the act. "I told you. I don't lose games."

"And what's Georgina?"

"Collateral damage. My condolences for her reputation but I'm sure she'll be fine."

"You told her about Aidan as bait, didn't you? That wasn't true at all."

"Maybe," I blow out smoke. "Maybe not."

"Yeah, you did. I knew it was a lie."

"No, you didn't," I cackle, playing this act of what I know he wants. Someone who can go toe to toe with him in cruelty. "Acting like a jealous boyfriend last weekend this whole time you were with Georgina."

"Me? Jealous? Didn't you just ruin the reputation of the girl I was dating?"

"And on her birthday too," I tap out the ash of my cigarette against the railing before resting my palm on it.

"You really have an artistic touch to your schemes of social destruction."

I crack up at this. Maybe it's the alcohol talking. And I realize I do. This world has made me somewhat of a Picasso in this. "I should charge all of you an entrance fee to the art you're seeing."

"You really should." He smirks and puts a huge hand on mine. I move his hand away so he knows I'm not some weak, delicate flower scared to tell him what to do, like the other social climbers desperate for a chance to be with him. Like Georgina. He likes me when I'm fiery and fiesty; he likes the fight and challenge in my eyes, complete with a disregard for who comes in my way.

"I'm bored," I complain, looking at him with meaning.

"Well, that's no fun," he pouts at me, "Luckily for you, I've got a gram of me."

"What? Coke, special K, molly...?"

"Your favourite."

"Oh, I'm interested." I peer at him, "What else?"

"And you know what would be a perfect end to this night?"

"What?"

"If you get Georgina's suite tonight, especially since I don't think she'll be using it tonight." He's referring to what's possibly the most exclusive suite at the Carlton, charging at a spectacular twenty-five thousand dollars a night.

"That's not gonna be possible. Only Georgina has that key card."

Orson shoots me a knowing smile and rummages into the pocket of his jacket. He produces a thin white card. "Lucky for you, I have one too."

My mouth widens, "Oh, come on. That's just adding insult to the injury."

"Oh, you're holding back now, Scout?"

"I believe in a graceful defeat. This," I jab to the key card in Orson's hand, "is just kicking her when she's already down."

"You already destroyed her whole reputation in front of everyone she knows," he says, looking deep into my eyes, "I mean, you'll just add the cherry on top by fucking her boyfriend in her suite."

I curl my lips and straighten up a bit more. "I do love cherries," and I choose that moment to wrap my hand around Orson's neck, tickling the place where his black hair meets his skin, and pull him into a kiss.

-

The morning light filtering through the windows makes the mahogany art deco furniture in Georgina's suite glow like amber. I yawn and blink, propping myself up against four layers of goose-feather pillows as my eyes take in the damage of yesterday's mistakes.

We've invited fifty of all our friends to party it up in Georgina's suite and the evidence of it can be seen: fist-shaped holes in pillars, large pieces of plasterboard ripped from walls and bottles and cans strewn across the carpet. The chandelier in the living room has been torn from the ceiling, ending up on a chaise lounge that's been split in half from too many people standing on it. On the bedside table- one of the few items in the suite that hasn't been broken- are all the party shots from last night. Polaroids from Nadine's camera, grainy pictures of Orson, Parker, Anabelle, Aidan, Hanif- everyone in our squad is in them, naked in the hot tub, dancing in our underwear, drinking champagne in bed. In one of them, Orson and I are exchanging kisses. My dress is half off, exposing the lacy half bra I'm wearing, and in the background behind is Aidan and Phineas railing lines.

I turn to my side, expecting Orson to be lying beside me but instead the space is vacant and cold.

"Babe, I got this for you." Orson's at the door, in between the living room and the bedroom of the suite carrying an exquisite bamboo tray of a silver tea set. He's wearing his favourite red silk Versace bathrobe and bamboo spa sandals. He looks very relaxed.

I sip it and the warmth of the orange pekoe tea soothes me. "Hmm, bringing me tea, being so domestic?" I tease him as he slips into bed next to me.

He kisses the tender area right above my collarbone and I melt into him. I'm not even wearing a top, just a G-string with both ass cheeks just out. He curls his arm around my waist and I brush the tips of my fingers in one continuous line, tracing his calf, up the curve of his knee, and along the front of his thigh. He looks at me crookedly with his wicked-boy smile and I give him those eyes, watching him get hard. I keep stroking his leg in a gentle rhythm, moving closer and closer toward the soft part of his inner thigh. When he couldn't stand it no longer, he grabs the thin laces of my underwear and rips them off.

Here's the thing about Orson- the rumours about his capabilities in bed are true. He might be possibly the worst human being in life but I have to give credit where credit is due.

Before Orson, I've only ever had sex twice- both of which were drunken, meaningful encounters at some Hollywood party in ninth grade. And the rest of my sexual exploration happens to be awkward masturbation in my own bed with a vibrator. 

With Orson, I learn to explore a whole new world of it. The basis of our relationship was the sex- and I got to be honest, it's pretty damn good. But because he is Orson, I remind myself that sex can be just sex. It doesn't need to have any value or emotional intimacy. When we have sex, it's all about power. 

As I lay there, deliriously spent in post-coital bliss, Orson's playing with my blonde hair and that's when I ask him about the damaged hotel room. "What should I do with all this?"

Because soon enough the hotel management is gonna ask for someone to foot the bill for damages.

He shrugs, "If you're really evil, leave it on Georgina's tab."

"Oh, that's a little mean."

He raises his eyebrows, "I mean after everything?"

I smirk at him, "Guess I'm starting to feel a little bad."

He laughs and tells me not to worry. He'll handle it. It's not another hour before we disentangle from each other, reluctantly put some clothes on and make our way to breakfast. Even though Orson has to foot the bill for about four hundred thousand dollars in damages, because he's a Calloway, they still let us have breakfast at the private glassed-in summer porch adjacent to the buffet breakfast. Boasting a circular marble-top teak table from the Dutch Indies, wicker chairs cushioned in whimsical monkey-print chintz, and a profusion of hanging ferns, it's one of the loveliest private eating rooms I have ever seen.

We arrive from our rooms to a rather excessive spread laid out for us: pitchers of coffee, tea, and orange juice accompanied by poached eggs and thick-cut bacon on a warming plate, scrambled eggs with Cumberland sausages, toasted English muffins, French toast, sliced mango with Greek yoghurt, three types of breakfast cereals, silver-dollar pancakes with strawberries and Chantilly cream. The Elite are all seated around the round table and light laughter flows out from their conversation.

When Orson and I appear at the doorway, the room quiets and everyone looks like us. A strange feeling comes across me as the room begins to fill with noise again. It's like we're their King and Queen, getting the court to pay attention to us at a banquet hall.

Parker looks fresh as a lotus flower in a cornflower blue silk shirtdress and strappy sandals when she waves us over to two empty seats beside us.

"How's the happy couple?" Hanif asks with a knowing smirk. I can't tell if he's sarcastic. He helps himself to a serving of poached eggs on bread. It's funny how he doesn't eat pork because of religious reasons but has no qualms when it comes to drowning in liquor and drugs.

I give a look to Orson, who shrugs, and that's when I answer for us. "Feeling fine; on a bit of a comedown but fine."

"Guess you and Orson got back right in time huh," Hanif carries on without regard for tact, "Just right before Homecoming."

Fuck, I think to myself, Homecoming's already next week? I haven't even got a dress.

"Yeah for my coronation," Parker proudly announces.

"What makes you so sure you're gonna win?"

"Without Georgina at Kensington," Parker laughs, "There's really no other competition."

"Why don't you run, Amory?" laughs Hanif, looking at me.

I make a face, "Not my style, too much work." After all, all the popular girls back in Los Angeles would never run for Homecoming Queen. They were already the cutest, hottest, and coolest girls in school- they didn't need to actually be Homecoming Queen because they were above such drivel and everybody knew it.

Real It-Girls shouldn't have to try so hard. 

Orson smirks at me, "Besides, I think the school administration will be scandalized after they hear the events of this weekend."

"Shut up."

He laughs but it's gentle and grins at me, pulling on the sleeve of my pale green Calypso blouse, "Come with me?"

I'm all soft when I smile but deep inside I rejoice. Because finally, after so much planning and dedication, we've got here.

-