Erika was livid.

She was livid, appalled, but most of all, embarrassed. The eyes that laid on her disapprovingly were those of her peers, their parents, and even worse; her father's co workers. Word was definitely going to get back that Daddy's perfect little girl was a shoplifter.

Erika had tried to pay the cashier off. She was certain the woman was a peasant disguised in Armani but to her surprise, the woman was actually a lucky lotto winner.

So reluctantly, Erika sat down in a plastic chair at the very front of the store, waiting for the inevitable arrival of the police. While the wait was turning out to be long and agonizing, Paisely only made it worse as she insisted to wait with her.

"Okay, so maybe I went a little too far but you always said when someone does you wrong, get back at them harder so thats what I did," the blonde rambled on. "Aren't you proud of me? I mean, I think I did even better than you."

Erika rolled her eyes, anxiously playing with the strap of her purse. She was intent on drowning out Paisely's voice - and the other, much louder voice in her head singing, 'Karma'.

"Wasn't I clever?" Paisely gushed.

So maybe Erika should have suspected her stunt would come back around. However, she'd done plenty of messed up things before and Karma had seemed to ignore her. She'd thought she was invincible.

'Suck it up, Erika, loser mentality isn't you.'

So when the police arrived, Erika's slightly terrified demeanor was replaced with her usual, cool, collected, bored posture. She sat up straight, eyes wandering to things she wanted to buy when this ordeal was over.

The police, to her dismay, were two women; the first was tall and lean with short, chin-length blonde hair and the other was much shorter in contrast, her hair red and unruly as if she needed a trip to the salon ASAP.

Erika was suddenly even more aware of the stares she was receiving from the customers as she stood up to face the police.

The former peasant cashier came rushing over, the leggings in one arm. "Thats her, thats the shoplifter."

"The one and only." Erika said icily, not even faltering. She sized up the women, looking for any flaws, anything she could use to her advantage - and thats when she noticed the blonde woman's name tag; Officer Wells.

She cocked her head to the side. "Officer Wells? As in Lindsey Wells?"

The woman frowned. "Yes, thats my daughter."

The light bulb quickly turned on in Erika's head. Alabaster Preparatory School was education for the elite. Elite as in rich, beautiful and privileged. If a student wasn't those things then they were the few lucky peasants that got in on a wretched and despised scholarship. There was no way a cop could afford the tuition  - 56,000 dollars a year to be exact - especially if they're a single mother on top of that.

However, Erika had to give props to Lindsey for hiding it so well.

"The leggings in all cost about four grand." The cashier said, unaware of the dots being connected.

Paisely was confused too, as usual. She was still faking a worried pout, her hands reaching out to comfort Erika who moved away.

"It's be a shame if word got out that your daughter is not indeed the daughter of a rich banker but a low income cop." That was all that needed to be said.

Erika left Barneys a free woman - and with a forever pondering Paisely.

"See? You came out okay, no harm done, right?" She asked more nervous than before.

Erika weighed the benefits of shunning Paisely or keeping her but decided a shunning would be too easy. Paisely wanted to play with fire so thats exactly what she'll get. Except this time it wouldn't be her poor maid cleaning up the mess.

Jac was already waiting by the car, gently placing her shopping bags in the trunk.  "What took you guys so long?" She asked.

"Oh, I was too busy getting framed for thievery." Erika nudged Paisely gently but the girl staggered back.

"Thievery?"

"But I thought you said you weren't mad." Paisely gasped.

'What a fucking idiot', Erika thought. She was almost disgusted by Paisely's naive view.  "No, sweetie, of course I'm not mad." She said sweetly, reassuring the girl.

Jac, however, caught on as usual. "So Paisely somehow made you look like a shoplifter and you're not mad?"

Erika shot her the shut-up glare. "Nope, not mad at all. Besides, I did get myself out of it." Then to quickly diffuse the conversation - and to make sure the ditzy blonde didn't somehow grow brains - she added, "Wheres Steve?"

"Still shopping for lingerie." Jac's smile faded into a scowl.

"Steve wearing lingerie," Paisely giggled. "Thats so funny!"

"Whats with the scowl, Jac?" Erika asked tentatively.

However, the girl didn't budge. She simply shook her head then opened the trunk again, digging through her bags until she pulled out a pair of Prada flip flops. "I'm kind of regretting these."

"Why?" Paisely asked. "They're so cute!"

"Don't worry, Jac," Erika smiled but her look only sharpened as she turned to Paisely who was completely oblivious to the tension. "Soon we'll all be regretting something."

Erika spent the ride home, analyzing every trick she had up her sleeve. There was one thing everyone knew for sure about Erika Felix around the whole Beverly Hills district; she was too good at getting even.

After waving goodbye to Jac and a giddy Paisely - 'Ugh!' - she retreated into the Felix Estate; the same luxurious mansion she came home to everyday.

The first thing she did was call out for her father and when there was no answer, she hurried to her room. Everytime Erika entered her room, it was a reminder that she really was the most fakest girl on the planet.

Her coral gold walls were covered with pictures from vacations, concerts, and of her "friends". She didn't really consider any of the girls she talked to as friends. So, Jac was the one girl in school she wasnt annoyed with 24/7 and Paisely was always tagging along with them -  something she'd been doing since 7th grade.

Erika had always wanted to take down the pictures but someone always wanted to hang out and she felt like a loser without them. A queen has to have subjects right?

As usual, she checked her iPhone 6 only to see more annoying texts about the party.

'OMG Chris Brown was so cute at the party, did you see him???'

'Hey, missed you at the party, where were you?'

'Damn why did Page punch you in the face?'

'Did you see Page's house? I heard her parents were pissed.'

'Your fucking brother busted the party.'

'I saw Damon and Emma go in the bedroom alone. Spill the details?'

Erika was actually intrigued by the last message and made sure to text back then she kicked off her heels and threw her phone on to the bed.  When she went back downstairs, ready to grab a quick snack from the kitchen, she heard her father's voicemail playing in his office.

It was always going off throughout the day especially when he wasn't home and usually she didn't give a flying fuck about what was on it. However, the message was from one of her father's female coworkers and she was talking about a shoplifting incident at Barneys.

Erika dropped the yogurt she'd been holding and it clattered on to the kitchen floor. Quickly, she ran into the office.

".....your daughter, Erika, was involved and it looked like the police were going to arrest her. If this gets out, this could really damage our business' reputation. We don't want anyone associated with us to be acting like fools. You said it yourself, Matthew. Please, talk to your kids."

Erika's heart was pounding as the voice message ended and when the option came up to delete the message, she hurriedly did so.

There was one thing that was definitely certain. Word was spreading and she was going to have to work hard to make this little secret go away for good.

She was going to hit Paisely hard.

                                                                        ⓇⒾⒸⒽⓀⒾⒹⓈ

All the rage, guilt and whatever other shitty emotion Damon was having always disappeared when a Lacrosse game was ongoing. The sport was practically his life. Matthew Felix had made sure his son was destined to be a Lacrosse prodigy, putting him in one of the best little leagues in Beverly Hills and then torturing him with endless practices until he made the Alabaster Prep team as captain.

There was a lot of pressure on him when it came to Lacrosse; winning every game, setting a path to the Major League. However, when it was just a friendly, don't-sweat-it competition, thats when Damon truly felt at ease.

"I don't wanna do the faceoff, why can't you do it?" Connor Royce whined to one of their Lacrosse players.

It was a Sunday or in other words, Team Bonding Day. Coach Mitchells, a bald, horse-like man with what the guys liked to call 'girly hips' had insisted the team become more of a brotherhood. They had to play games and hang out until they all had a family mentality.

However, Damon thought they were far from it.

Connor Royce; a lanky, shaggy-haired freshman had a problem with doiing the faceoff, complaining that he could never actually win. Chris Edwards hated to be defender especially when he was stuck with the forever mute; Jeremiah. Seth refused to be defender if the goalie was Brett Richers.The list of annoyances in the group went on and on.

"Look, you're the only person whose face off skills are a little rusty,." Damon said. "You need practice."

"Fine, who am I facing off with?" Connor gestured over the team, bickering on the fresh cut field lined with white athletic marking.

Damon surveyed the team before picking out the most broad - and huge - player he could think of; Jeremiah, whose mute demeanor terrified every opponent they ever faced. Connor literally fell back on to the grass with an exasperated sigh. "He's gonna kill me."

"But he's almost as big as the real guy you're gonna be facing off with so its good practice." It was also a relief to every other player who didn't want to deal with East Prep's usual pick for face off; a troll-like senior from Hawaii.

"I can't do it."

"Yes, you can." Damon said, trying his hardest not to become impatient but when the small gangling boy didn't get up, he pulled him roughly to his feet by his jersey, jerking him forward until he was at the very center of the field. "God, stop being a fucking baby."

Jeremiah and Connor faced off - but of course Connor didn't stand a chance. As soon as Coach Mitchells blew his whistle, Jeremiah tackled Connor o the ground to get the ball. However, the whole team got a good laugh out of it.

"Damon, you're up!" Coach Mitchells shouted from the sidelines, beckoning forward Damon and Chris.

They were friends outside of the field. Damon knew the guy since Weston Day School along with Seth Montador. However, on the field, Chris was his biggest competition. He was just as fast, smart and arrogant. This made him the most likely to snag his spot as captain if Damon ever screwed up somehow.

Crouched low, Damon was gripping the crosse so hard his knuckles were white. Practice was always easy going until he had to face off with Chris. If the coach ever thought for a second, Chris was better than Damon, he could change captains before Damon could even blink.

The whistle blew.

Damon was already prepared, he maneuvered his way around Chris who had apparently miscalculated what way he would move. Damon lunged forward for the ball, only to come smashing into Chris.

Damon thought he had this face off in the bag - but Chris knocked Damon down so hard, for just a fraction of a second, he saw stars.

There was uproar from the whole team. Damon clearly saw Chris smirk. The guys ran out to meet Chris as if he just won the actual game.

Damon was so pissed that he felt that familiar tingling in his fists again, the feeling that only came about when he wanted to kick someone's ass. Before he let himself get out of hand, he forced himself up.

"Don't be a pussy now, Felix."

"You were down before it even started!"

"Dude, are you okay?"

"Is that tears?"

"Hey, you did good man." Chris smiled, his hand outstretched.

Usually, Damon was all about good sportsmanship - when he was the winner. Halfheartedly, he shook his hand and then ripped off his gloves.

"Good at hitting the ground." Chris exclaimed, causing more shouts and Oohhs!  

Damon did his best to unclench his fists and then forced a chuckle. "Good one, Chris, but I let you have that one, since you can't really score anything these days."

More loud Oohs that actually got the attention of the Coach this time.

"Damon is so generous," Chris shouted. "You gonna start giving out to peasants too?" The team could be mistaken for wolves now and Chris patted Damon's back as if he were still modeling good sportsmanship.

Damon did his best to mentally shrug off all the comments.

"Yeah, like how you were so generous with Emma Carmicheal!" The squeaky shrill of Connor rang loud and clear.

Now that was one comment Damon couldn't shrug off because Chris was crazy about Emma. They'd gone out the previous year and it only ended because Emma had an infatuation with college guys. Well, she was certainly into the high school crowd that night.

However, Chris definitely didn't need to know that.

Chris' triumphant, arrogant grin quickly vanished. "Wait, what?"

The whole team's rowdy shouts came to a muddled halt.

Damon's mind was already coming up with damage control, his eyes shifting from Conner to Chris hastily. Then, he finally came up with a solution - although an impractical one.

He lunged towards the lanky freshman, tackling him to the ground like that spear move he always seen in wrestling. Conner was screaming his head off and the team was jumping about. Conner's hands were up protectively as he shook with fear. "Please don't hand my ass to me!"

"I won't have to," Damon snickered, relieved his quick plan had worked. "Its gonna get handed to you anyway at the game."

Conner's frightened phrase would be forever mocked through the week.

Damon was satisfied with his hefty way of dodging a bullet but his fuck ups quickly came back to haunt him as he took a step towards his car. Sure, it was pretty expensive - the 2014 Rolls Royce Ghost didn't come cheap - but it wasn't the grand, brand new corvette; the one he'd been bragging about for weeks.

However, the one fuck up that made him wish he was back on the field was leaning on his car, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss in a MAC compact mirror; Jacqueline Lexington. She smiled when she spotted him and without warning, rushed into his arms.

"God, I'm so happy to see you."

Damon felt that annoying feeling of being the bad guy as he kissed her. He was fully aware of what happened at that party and yet here he was, acting completely oblivious. He couldn't tell her, not when she was happy and especially not now when it seemed like she was forgiving him for the whole police situation.

"I'm surprised. I thought you were mad about being jailbait." He said, laughing off the guilt.

Jac ran a hand through her hair, tilting her head back, letting the rays of sun bathe on the surface of her summer tan skin. It was moments like these when Damon really didn't notice any other girl. "Oh, yeah, thats what we need to talk about."

"Whats left to talk about?" He asked and then again, pushed back the reminder that he should be confessing.

"Theres no harm done, my parents got me out of it," and then she rolled her eyes like she always did when mentioning her parents. "Its just my mom is being a bitch."

"She cut you off again?"

"From you, yeah."

Damon found himself laughing at this. Eve Lexington never liked Damon and she made no attempt at hiding it. The one time he dared come home for dinner, she'd taunted him with lies of her maid putting hair in his lobster. She'd also gone as far as to book a date for Jac with 'the better choice' knowing damn well he was her boyfriend.

"Right, like thats gonna work." He snorted.

"I don't know, I think she's serious." Jac said, almost seeming worried.

"Well, fuck her," He pulled her towards him. If there was one thing better than money, it was Jac. "I mean, how can I possibly stay away from this?" He traced the outline of her lips, causing the composed Jac to blush.

She was smiling but it faded into a frown when her eyes found the faint bruise just on the sharp angle of Damon's jawline. It had come from Matthew's harsh punches and Damon immediately knew she'd discovered it from her expression.

It was easy to hide it from the team. Playing Lacrosse gave even worse blows than that but Jac somehow knew. She always did.

"Hard practice?" She asked, smiling softly again.

"Yeah." Damon shrugged her off then, not wanting to draw any more attention to it. It wasn't that he was trying to protect his Dad. The bruise was just a reminder of how weak he really was. A reminder that he couldn't fight them all, that he wasn't the invincible champion that led his team mates to victory.

"Damon, you know you can tell me anything, right?" She said. "You can always be honest with me."

"Yeah, I know." 'Yet you won't tell her your dirty little secret.' Damon tried to refocus his mind on being completely oblivious, on acting just as innocent as he wanted to seem.

Jac didn't seem satisfied with his answer as her smile faltered. However, she kissed him again. "Okay, well, I have to go."

"You sure?" He teased jokingly. "This might be the last time your mother lets you out before she marries you off to that Ken barbie doll."

"His name was David and he was actually really nice." She laughed.

Damon smirked now. "But nice isn't your thing, remember?"

"Oh, shut up, Damon." With that, she sauntered back to her car, seeming relaxed and happy - which only made Damon feel even worse.

                                                                     ⓇⒾⒸⒽⓀⒾⒹⓈ

Jac had fallen into a doomsday outlook on her life. Sure, shopping had eased some of the worry and stress but it hadn't helped her come up with a solution or a rational idea to why her father was calling Steve's phone.

She'd ruled out all the possibilities.

The first being that he could have needed Steve to run an errand but Jeffrey Lexington was out running errands himself at that hour. He could have wanted to check on the house but Jac knew damn well the scatter-brained millionaire was usually too caught up in his work to think about home.

Out of alternative possibilities, Jac was in despair and couldn't at least fake happiness when Eve dragged her to dinner at Wolfgang Puck's famous Spago restaurant.

Jeffrey had decided to meet them there and was already sitting at their reserved table. He was summer tan and clean cut. His hair was so brown that it could pass for black in certain lighting and for a forty something year old he still had boyish features that clashed with his Z Zegna wool suit and Salvatore Ferragamo penny loafers.

Eve had dressed up as well for the occasion, wearing a pink, trimmed Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress with baby pink Prada pumps. Jac, on the other hand, came in the same outfit she'd worn to go shopping that day.

Jeffrey stood up, hugging his wife in a not-so-romantic manner.  When he moved to get a better hold on Jac, she couldn't help but cringe away.

"You look beautiful, honey," Jeffery chirped, unaware of Jac's recoil.

Eve stood expectantly, obviously waiting for her compliment. but Jeffrey only sat down. She sat down next to her husband but Jac kept her distance, sitting across the table.

"And wheres my compliment, Jeffrey?" Eve asked.

Jac rolled her eyes as she already knew what was coming; her parents hushed, whispered arguments over the dinner table. She turned around in her chair, observing the crowd. The only celebrities mixed within the wealthy customers tonight were Bradd Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

Jac's scan of the restaurant, however, ended when she spotted Brett Richers; a purposely touseled blonde-haired Lacrosse player that was always hanging out with Damon. He was with a woman who looked much older but she could definitely tell that was his mother.

When she turned back to her parents, they were now bickering over the order. Jeffrey  wanted a tuna hand roll crisp while Eve thought the chirachi bowl sushi was much less fattening. However, by the time the waitress had come over, the couple had composed themselves, looking as graceful and poised as wealthy A-listers should be.

They both agreed instead on a moroccan dish.

Jeffery quickly dug in while Eve took the delicate, savory dish in small bites. Jac, on the other hand, wasn't really hungry at all. Her head was spinning with Steve's little boyfriend who he had been buying lingerie for. Yet as she looked at her father, she couldn't possibly imagine him being so dirty.

"Ready for the week to start, kiddo?" Jeffrey asked, his mouth full of spicy meat. Her father's repulsive way of eating made Jac feel nauseous.

She had to nod, afraid she'd throw up if she spoke.

"What about you, Jeffrey, are you ready for the week?" Eve asked tentatively.

"Yup, ready to take out fat and rearrange faces." Jeffrey said proudly but the way he described his occupation always made Jac's stomach churn especially when he had the tendency to talk about it over dinner.

"Hmmm." was all Eve said to that, taking another bite of her food.

Jac couldn't help but feel the awkward tension in her family. It almost seemed everyone was aware of the elephant in the room; her father's likely dirty secret.

"I heard you're a contender for valedictorian," Jeffrey said. "Thats great especially considering you're still a Junior."

"Barely," Jac corrected. "The school year has three more months, Dad."

He shrugged and then tore off another piece of meat causing Eve herself to cringe. Jac's mother looked at Jeffrey with disdain and then ever so slightly pushed her chair away. Jeffrey seemed oblivious. "Well, looking at your grades, I think you're gonna get there."

"Not if she keeps getting into trouble." Eve muttered.

"She won't, right Jac?" Jeffrey sad as if he were certain there was no trouble in his daughter's future.

Jac dutifully took a small bite of the moroccan meat and before she could answer her father, Eve scowled. "Its that Felix boy, he's nothing but trouble."

"Matthew's son? Why, I thought he was a bright boy," Jeffrey gasped, seeming astonished. "Isn't he on that, uh, Lacrosse team?"

Matthew Felix had a reputation as the greatest of the great. He was a victorious business man who had built his career from the ground up. Everyone in the uptown of Beverly Hills respected him and the fact that his son was caught breaking the law - no matter what it was - was major gossip within the Elite.

"That boy is hardly golden." Eve shook her head furiously.

"Oh, please, I've dated worse." Which was entirely true. Last Summer, when she and Damon had gotten into a really big fight, she'd dated Alabaster Prep's very own drug dealer; Jared Hayward. He had been expelled after being caught with Ecstasy and was shipped off to Military school by his distraught parents.

"Do I need to ban you from dating then?" Eve snapped. "You seem to have a bad taste in guys."

"Oh, Eve, she's seventeen," Jeffrey chuckled. "Let her be young."

"Sixteen," Jac corrected bitterly. "My birthday is next month." Her father couldn't even remember her own birthday yet he had time to leave calls for the butler.

Just then, the family tension was swished away by the returning waitress. Although this time the woman seemed flustered, ripping through pages of a tiny checkbook. "Ummm, Mister Lexington, sir?"

Jeffrey wiped the remaining spicy meat sauce off of his face with a napkin, looking up at the waitress with a smile that revealed he hadn't entirely cleaned up. "Yes, I'll pay the bill after our dining."

"Um, no, theres been a mix up with your ten PM reservation." The waitress stated sheepishly.

Eve who had finally started to eat more freely, dropped her fork that clanged against the ivy wooden table. "Reservation? Reservation with who?"

"A reservation for two, ma'am." The waitress replied.

Jeffrey had gone pale despite his sun kissed skin, frozen in his chair. Jac had gone just as white, her mind already spinning with conclusions. 'Reservation for two?'

Eve was glaring at her husband now and Jac could have sworn she was ready to jab him in the eye with the end of her Prada heel. "I didn't know we had another dinner planned."

"Oh, I must have made that reservation by accident." Jeffery managed, sitting up straighter and adjusting the collar of his suit. "I'll handle it after this dinner."

The waitress nodded, seeming relieved and hurried to another table.

With a frustrated sigh, Eve stood up, grabbing her Louis Vuitton handbag and heading for the door without even a glance back.

Jac knew she should follow her mother out but she was planted where she was, watching her flushed father try to muster up words. Finally, he sighed. "Its not what you think, Jac."

"Then what is it?" She asked, realizing how cold and harsh her voice was.

"I love your mother," He said. "Its just, sometimes I don't know if she feels the same."

Jac knew exactly what her father was talking about. Eve was usually mean and disgusted towards her father. Hell, she was giving the cold shoulder to Jac at times too. You never knew where you stood with Eve Lexington.

'But thats not a reason to cheat.'

"I know about Steve, Dad." Jac admitted, her voice thick and grave.

Jeffrey didn't seem surprised. The plastic surgeon just slumped in his chair, his head hanging low as if he couldn't look her in the eye. "You can't tell anyone, Jac."

"Why?"

"It could ruin everything, my job, our connections......our family," Then he looked up with pleading eyes. "Please, Jac."

"You're asking me to lie to Mom and basically everyone I know?" Jac asked in disbelief. She found herself going back to her friend, Erika; scandalous and conniving, always looking for benefits. She'd probably blackmail her father into getting everything she wanted. However, Jac just couldn't lie. Not about something so big.

"At least until I clean this up myself," Jeffrey said. "Please, Jac, think about everything you love in life because all of that depends on you keeping this a secret."

Jac thought about her five million dollar wardrobe, her five beloved cars, her enrollment in the best preparatory school in Beverly Hills, her boyfriend and most of all, her family. Those were the things she needed to be content in life and she couldn't imagine a world without those things.

"Fine."