Note: I picked out the silvery edits today because I was loving how cohesive the collage looked. Check them out--there are edits, pretty calligraphy, AND a handmade drawing.
PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: So like, DEFED hates Emeray but wants to be friend with the other Famoux members. What does this mean for Emeray?! Will this story ever stop being melodramatic!?!!
emeray
DEFED's ring box didn't make it to my birthday dinner. In order to guarantee that the engagement ring wouldn't somehow find itself in another box, Cartney decided to give me zero tangible gifts. Of course, this happened much to the chagrin of Buchan.
"They could not, for the life of them, understand why I had no more interest in giving you a necklace," he told me, chuckling with force. It's hard to find the bulk of these new circumstances funny, but like always, he does his best. "It was hard not to yell, BECAUSE IT WON'T BE A NECKLACE BY THE TIME SHE OPENS IT."
He'd placed the jewelry box by his suit jacket several times throughout the day, always checking to make sure it bared the necklace before letting it out of his sight. If he left his room for so much as a minute to grab something, the box always had a ring glinting idly inside when he checked back.
"It changed every single time," he'd told me, eyes wide, voice somber. "It didn't matter if I was gone for a second. Every. Single. Time."
As it turns out, there aren't only DEFED moles within the Metropolix; they're all over Buchan Studios as well. Since Cartney's apartment is directly connected to Buchan, virtually anyone in the office can access his living quarters.
It's quite apparent now, more than ever, that DEFED always knows where we are, what we're saying, what we're going to do next.
"What does this mean, now?" Cartney asks. A waiter has just cleared our dinner plates from the table, replacing them with dessert menus. Since this restaurant isn't huge, and eavesdropping seems prevalent, we decided that we'd only discuss issues like DEFED when menus are present. People are more prone to leaving us alone when they think all we're talking about is what we should order.
"What do you mean?" I say.
"Well, do you think this is going to be like what you guys went through last time? Round two? Is someone going to die?"
I swallow hard, thinking about breakfast this morning. If there's anybody next in line to die at DEFED's hands, I appear to have a target on my back. We didn't get to discuss it further when Kaytee returned to the dining room with the guards, but it was evident on their faces that they were thinking it. Why would DEFED be rushing to make amends with everyone but me if they didn't want me dead?
"I don't think it's going to be like how it was with Foster," I say. Maybe I only say it because I want it to be true, because I want to comfort myself.
"A cryptic nursery rhyme message straight out of the gates? This time around sounds a lot like last time to me."
Cartney had been the one to receive the final DEFED gift last timeââthe one that arrived while the Famoux and I were in the Fishbowl. It was the one that came with a book of nursery rhymes, bookmarked to Doctor Foster. As far as the Volx and the other threats go, he wasn't involved as much then as he is now.
But he seems to be really shaken up by the nursery rhymesââit isn't the first time he's brought them up in the last few months. I've been hearing for a while now on our walks about how eerie they are to him. Something about the creepy childish aspect, he always says. They give him the chills.
"Well, last time they weren't trying to get us engaged," I point out. "So that's one difference we can spot."
He laughs. "True that. So they're shaking things up."
"Looks like it."
"How excellent."
Cartney goes to pour me more sparkling water, just barely tilting the bottle sideways. The liquid comes out in a painfully slow trickle, like the little droplets water from a faucet you thought you'd fully turned off. I believe I must be eighteen years old now when my glass is finally half full.
"Everything all right?" I ask.
"I'm paranoid."
"About water?"
"The waiter keeps bringing us new bottles, even when they're not fully finished. Who knowsââmaybe the next is gonna have a ring in it or something."
"We ought not order the soufflé, then," I say. "Maybe we'll accidentally scoop up some diamonds instead of dessert."
He shakes his head. "This is maddening. Can't even enjoy dinner. Why do I have to be wrapped into all of this?"
"Because I'm wrapped up in all of this."
"I'm not even a Famoux member!"
"The association is enough."
"Well then I formally apologize, Ray. I know it's your birthday and all, but we're breaking up."
"If only it was so easy."
Cartney sighs, leaning back into his chair. "The contract with Kaytee was infinitely easier to handle than this. Granted, I sort of believed that we were actually dating, just with a little legal action for the label's sake, but we weren't dealing with any scary threats or paranoia like now."
"Sounds like a dream, as far as fake relationships go."
"Yeah, it really was. And people actually liked Kaytee and I. I released a beautiful song for you that everybody should be loving, but all anybody can do is complain about how over-exposed our relationship is."
Just at the mention of the public, we both glance around the room. Tonight's dinner is at an elegant fixture down the street from Ace, the club we Famoux members frequent the most out of the others in Colburn. I caught word from Angad on the car ride here that we might be making a stop at Ace later tonight. If that's actually the case, I can think of a million things I'd rather be doing with my birthday than having to dance under public scrutiny all night long.
"You'd think they'd call this off," I say. "Buchan and Norax. If we just annoy people, why are we still together?"
"DEFED's got eyes on the inside, remember?"
"Do you think they're influencing things?"
lDefinitely. They're probably the ridiculous interns who try to run everything at company meetings. Young, claiming they know what the people really want."
"I doubt Norax would listen to an intern like that."
He shrugs, setting his menu down. "Maybe they're not the interns, then. Maybe they're just running everything. That's a good way to make things happen."
The waiter approaches us before I can respond. As Cartney orders us something white chocolate with an elaborate name, I consider his words. It wouldn't be the first time I've thought something like thisââthat DEFED could be running the Famoux. Sometimes I can see their brand of malicious in Noraxââwe all can, really.
But there are too many holes in that theory. Norax didn't know about the threats, and seems to reminds us every single day that she could've fixed things if she knew that DEFED was planning to kill one of us. And then there's thatââwhy would the person single handedly running the Famoux want to kill her members?
Somehow I can't bring myself to believe she would. She can push us into as many forced contracts as she'd like, but I don't think she would ever be willing to kill us--especially members like Bree and Foster. They hadn't been stirring anything up when DEFED got them--Foster had been in the middle of the Volx.
Cartney hands back our menus to the waiter, resuming the tensed stance he dons whenever we talk about DEFED. It's all still so new to him--a propensity for his own demise. I almost want to apologize for getting him involved, as if it's somehow only my fault.
"It's your birthday," he says, clearing his throat. "We should talk about something lighter than this."
"Lighter, sure." I nod. "Will you marry me?"
Cartney laughs. "What's lighter than a wedding dress?"
xxx
We end up going to Ace after dinner, much to my opposition. The rest of the Famoux turn out to be waiting there to surprise meââa gorgeously public display of full-member allegiance. It sickens me that this is the first thought I have, of how good this surprise party makes all of us look.
They look so bright and picture perfect, holding up a sign for me, but the smiles don't reach their eyes. No, in those I find pity. How unfortunate for Emerayââfinding out on her birthday that she's the girl DEFED hates. The girl they want to see be sabotaged and execrated by the whole world. If there weren't so many people around, I'd tell them that their condoling looks only make me feel like I'm already dead.
Norax isn't here at Ace either. For what seems like an entire lifetime I'm dodging semi-familiar faces, weaving through crowds trying to get to me, looking around all the edges and corners for a place she might be. I haven't seen her all day. If there was any time for her to show up, it'd be now.
Cartney strides beside me the whole time, half-shouting encouragements over the pulsating music.
After five minutes: "She's probably planning something massive for later on."
After thirty minutes: "Hey, she could've forgotten your gift and had to turn around and get it."
After an hour: "Maybe she forgot to buy any gift and is going on a last minute rampage for the perfect thing."
After three hours: "You know what could've happened? Something could've come up with that family of hers you met at the gala. You know, the horrible ones you hated. Perhaps a medical emergency."
It seems ridiculous for me to be as disappointed as I am.
When we return back to the big VIP table where the Famoux is mainly stationed, Kaytee is the first to hand me a gift, demanding adamantly that I open it up.
"Right now?" I ask.
"It's already after midnight!" she exclaims. "Your birthday is over and you haven't even opened up gifts!"
The club-goers lucky enough to get in tonight are delighted to be witness to this moment. They pack together, creating a tight enough crowd that half of the dance floor is totally empty.
From my seat at the center of attention, I can see them craning their necks, leaning forward, personal space excused. These are the people who must've camped outside of Ace all day long just for the sheer possibility that the members might be showing up for an appearance tonight. To them, this is a monumental occasionââsomething intimate that could've easily been done in privacy.
They need not worry about privacy much longer; we here at the Famoux are working hard to become quite transparent. For all they know, they're the next member.
The gift turns out to be a necklace, the pendant bearing a small painting encased in glass. Shortly thereafter, the other members bring up their gifts.
From Till I get a new pair of shoesââthe same style she's been wearing outdoors lately. A lot of people seem to recognize them immediately, ooo-ing and ahhh-ing at the dark green design.
Race presents me a boxful of bracelets made of thread and leather, which I wore on set for Algus & Alondra. The first trailer for the film came out a few weeks ago, so everybody seems to already be familiar with the bracelets. There are plenty shouts to Cartney about how weird it is that I'm in a movie with the man who Kaytee cheated on him with, but the whole lot of us ignores them. A few minutes later, the people who shouted are escorted out of Ace all together.
Chapter, staying a good contract-induced distance away from me, hands over a small red gift bag. Inside, a large container of ground coffee beans.
Nobody in the room understands.
I can't help my smile. "The coffee theory?"
"Yes, of course," he says. "Only the best."
Later that night, when we get back to the Metropolix, I open the container from the privacy of my bedroom. Nestled carefully among the coffee grounds is a bracelet made of dark, maroon-colored metal. Its only facet is a dainty charmââa C.
C is for concern, his note reads. It's only a coincidence that C can also be for Chapter. And for coffee. And maybe even for Cartney. Go figure.
And the next morning, quickly following my walk to Wes Tegg's, the latter is exactly what the tabloids think.
xxx
That chapter was so underwhelming. I'm so sorry--the stress levels are unreal nowadays with Imagines coming out in stores in 11 days (!!!!!) and college decisions coming up and UGH, LIFE. Thank you for sticking with me even when it's not the most excellent.
Also, thank you to anybody who sends kind messages! Hunting through comments for new names leads me to a lot of less favorable comment discoveries, so I really appreciate that 98% of the comments on a given intense chapter is loving and not, "This sucks." I LOVE YOU.
And a very special thank you to anybody who's gone out of their way to message me about how much Famoux was there for them at certain times of their lives. Like I've said before, I always want to see you on Friday. No matter what hell is going down in your world, you've got to make it to Friday so you can figure out the end of this story. For those of you who stuck it out to Friday and were glad to report to me that you're still here, I can't even find the words to express how happy I am that you're here.
I wish you the happiest of weekends. What are your plans? I hope they're awesome. If it's just laying around and chilling, that is especially awesome. I'd love to just lay down and nap right now.
HAVE A LOVELY FRIDAYY. REMEMBER:
Sticks and Stones may break your bones, but haters make you famoux. Stay classy, stay classix.