BLOCK ESTATE
MASSIE'S ROOM
1:54 PM
DECEMBER 30, 2012

"Come here," Massie beckoned, carrying a pile of clothes in her arms. "What?" she asked when Claire didn't move any closer. "I don't bite."

Timidly, Claire approached her Alpha. Massie held up a shirt to her.

"Ugh," Massie grumbled.

"What?"

"I have no chest, but you really have no chest. Do you even wear a bra?"

"Training," Claire mumbled.

"Try this." She grabbed a sleeveless top. It was, in fact, the same sweater Claire had snagged a little while ago when Massie had gone to L.A. with Alicia and Dylan. "With these." She handed over skinny dark wash Seven jeans. "And this." She gave her a matching denim jacket. Claire put it on and automatically slipped her feet back into the Converse she wore everywhere.

"No way." Massie hooked the back of the girl's shoe with her pointer finger and pulled it off. She gave her gray cowgirl boots.

"No way." Claire looked in the mirror and began taking off the shirt. "Don't like it."

"Fine. How 'bout this?" She grabbed a white knit halter tank. "It's no-name, too. From Ahnna."

"Who's Ahnna?"

Massie froze in her tracks. She'd never planned to tell anyone who didn't already know about the Ahnnabees. She reached behind her for her ponytail and counted her split ends: six. Then she toyed with a loose thread on her quilt. "She was the Alpha of the clique I used to be part of at PMS."

"PMS?"

Did this girl ever stop? Massie's fists clenched and unclenched. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know. "Presbyterian Middle School," she explained quietly. "I was part of a clique called the Ahnnabees, headed by a bitch named Ahnna Pincher, and she always hated my ideas, and-" It took her a little while to realize she was sobbing.

In a fraction of a second, Claire had her arms around Massie. "It's okay. But now do you know how I feel?"

"What? No, I never did that to you! I promised myself I wouldn't! I swear on Bean!"

"Stawp panicking. It's nawt really you. Mostly Alicia. Why can't she stand me?"

"She thinks you're an LBR." Noticing Claire's defeated expression, she added, "But I don't. You're one of the best things that ever happened to me, okay?" Claire nodded assent. "Now stawp crying." The blonde pursed her lips and halted the flow of tears. "Now let's find you an outfit for your date." She marched back into her closet and returned with a beige-and-blush Jersey hippie dress with three-finger sleeves. "Better?"

"Much." Gratefully, Claire let the dress settle over her like soft rain. Massie tightened the pleated sash-belt. "Is this designer?"

"Stella McCartney," Massie replied. "See, doesn't that restore your faith? Name brands aren't all bad, are they?"

"Hmmph." Claire reached for the pair of simple nude sandals her friend was holding. "These too?"

"I am proud to say they are Louis Vuitton," she answered gravely.

"Oh, drop it." Claire put them on, then let Massie apply her makeup. A few minutes later, she was adorned with a simple ruby choker with a matching Yves St. Laurent handbag. Claire blew on her Cherry Blood Red by OPI-manicured fingernails while Massie applied a topcoat to her toes. Finally, she was done.

"I rate you a... 9.8. I heart the outfit and hate the bangs."

Claire shot a protective hand toward her forehead. "I like my bangs."

"Thanks for sharing." Then she flicked Claire on her skull. "Oh, snap out of it." She pushed the blonde out her door. "It'll be fun."

And now she was in the coffee shop at a back table without a date, and wishing she hadn't begged Judi to leave.

VANILLA BEAN
TABLE FOR TWO
2:31 PM
DECEMBER 30, 2012

'He'slatehe'slatehe'slate,' she worried, watching the door with eagle eyes for any sign of his black hair. Had she gotten the day wrong? Or maybe the time? Finally, she spotted him. "Cam!" She waved wildly, trying to catch his attention.

He looked over at her, and his nervous expression morphed into a relaxed grin. "Hey, Claire." He sat down and glanced around for a waiter. The situation suddenly became unbearably awkward.

"My name is Kelsey, and I'll be your server today. May I get you something to eat or drink?" Claire looked up, and up and up, at a tall, overly perky blonde waitress, who had overly perky eyes, overly perky hair, overly perky makeup, overly perky jewelry, and an overly perky butt.

Cam ordered for both of them. "We'll have a vanilla latte and a plain coffee with just sugar. Thanks." He waited until the girl who couldn't have been older than a college student walked away, then extended his hand across the table. "I got you these," he told her shyly, and dropped a small plastic bag into her palm.

"Gummy worms," she observed. "I've, uh, never had them."

"They're amazing." He smiled. "Try one."

"I kind of don't want to eat a worm..."

"It's fine, Claire."

She popped one into her mouth. A sour rush settled over her taste buds, followed by something rubbery and sweet. "Mmm," she mumbled. Then she picked up another.

"Read the note," Cam prompted.

"Huh?" She picked up the bag and turned it around, searching for something. She looked up at him bemusedly. Was this his idea of a joke? She shook it one last time, and a slip of paper fell out.

Would you be my girlfriend?-C

She crossed over to his side of the table. With abandon, she threw her arms around him. And after that, not caring who saw, she kissed him.

BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL
SPA
11:44 AM
DECEMBER 30, 2012

"Ehmagawd, this is so relaxing." Dylan sighed with rapture as she stretched her long legs and placed her feet on the bench across from her.

"Gawd, I hate spray-tans," Alicia remarked as she gingerly prepared to step into the tiny cubicle. She adjusted the nozzle one last time before she stepped in, threw her clothing outside on the floor, and slammed the door in one fluid motion.

"Massage?" offered yet another member of the staff who insisted on coming by every twenty seconds and invading her space.

"No thank you," Dylan replied in a clipped tone. "And I rented this room for privacy. Do you have a key to lock the door?"

"Yes, but it's against fire protocol."

Dylan tossed her a $50, which floated toward her already outstretched hand. This was one woman who was used to taking bribes from the elite, exclusive A-List. When she left, Dylan heard the distinct sound of a click.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her Instagram. Then she installed the Facebook app, even though she didn't have an account. It was always better to look like she had more, even when she didn't. Not that Dylan Marvil would know about not having something. Except maybe Facebook.

BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL
ROOM 397
12:03 PM
DECEMBER 30, 2012

"Ehmagawd," moaned Alicia in horror. "Ehmagawd!" She turned her arm over and literally began screaming.

Dylan rushed to her side. "What's wrong?"

"I-I'm orange," she whispered.

"Stand up," ordered Dylan, helping her friend off the bed. She used a remote to turn on the overhead lights and positioned her friend directly under one. "Twirl." Slowly, Alicia did. "You are nawt orange. Stawp exxagerating. You are just possibly a little more bronze than usual."

"I'm gonna be on live TV," the beauty continued as though she hadn't heard her. "And I'm orange."

"You'll look fine, orange or nawt," Dylan assured her. "The camera automatically washes you out, so extra makeup isn't a bad thing."

"R-really?" She looked down at herself and bit her lip to fight the urge to freak.

"Um-hmm."

"Okay."

Dylan had nothing more to say. She had to admit, Beverly Hills was boring her. For the first time, she realized that so much of her life revolved around shopping, shopping and shopping. And when you took that out, what did she have? A closet full of designer doodads that would slowly expire.

What had they not already done? They'd been to Rodeo Drive twice, to the beach and swimming more than that, and they'd spent countless hours on their phones. "You wanna have a spa day?" she questioned, even though her heart already wasn't it.

But to her surprise, Alicia shook her head. "I need a day to rest. Tomorrow we'll be up early for outfits and accessories and stuff, so let's just do nothing." When she looked for Dylan, she found her curled up under the 600-thread-count sheets. The next thing she saw was a black device with a bright orange case go flying over her head. It crashed into the floor instead of the basket which Dylan had intended, but it didn't break.

"No electronics for me," Dylan sang. Right after she utterd those words, her iPhone rang. "Could you see who it is?" she asked of Alicia, who was still standing.

"Sure." She crossed over to the other side of the room and told her, "It's Mass."

"Pick up." Dylan held her hand out, and the device was dropped into it. "Hey, girlie."

"Hey. Did you pick an outfit for the party?"

"Nawt yet. Why?"

"I guess I just wanted to see. Could you Skype me tomorrow with it?"

"Yeah, sure." She sighed. "No more phones for me today, okay? We're resting."

"That's fine. I'll be waiting."

"Yeah, yeah." With a giggle, Dylan hung up and tossed her phone over her shoulder. This time, it landed in the basket.

PINEWOOD APARTMENTS
KRISTEN'S ROOM
3:08 PM
DECEMBER 30, 2012

Kristen was busy organizing her bookcases. She should have been playing with her Christmas presents, but the truth was, she hadn't gotten any. Now that her father was practically an alcoholic, they lost all the money he should have been investing into not only his wife and house, but his daughter. Normally, he worked full-time in the same art gallery that had once begged for his worst paintings. Now, he earned $65,000 a year doing measly janitor duties. And right now, he was once again dead weight on the couch while Mrs. Gregory tried her hardest to make enough money for all three of them.

So the only thing she'd received as a gift was a battered, secondhand set of the Wrinkle in Time series by Madeleine L'Engle. She flopped onto her stomach and picked up the third book, A Swiftly Tiliting Planet. She had gotten so caught up in the story that she didn't notice when her father lumbered in.

"Krissy!" he called, opening his arms for a bear hug. "My little Krissy!" He reached over and tugged on her ponytail. Kristen stared in shock at the tall, wide man who had entered her room. He wore a plaid lumberjack shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dirty jeans. His feet were bare, as Marsha didn't let anyone wear shoes in the house.

"I'm going out," she managed. She crashed through the door, locked it behind her, and raced down four flights of stairs and out the door of the building. Once she was safely on the sidewalk, she gathered her wits and looked around, realizing she had no clue what to do. So she called Massie. "Mass?"

"Kris? What's up?"

"Could you pick me up?"

"What? Now?"

"Uh-huh." She waited with bated breath for an answer, and found herself inexplicably relieved when she heard her friend's voice.

"Sure. I'm sorting through my closet for old stuff I can give to Kuh-laire, but I can send Isaac to bring you over."

"That would be great. Thanks."

"See ya in a few."

Kristen snapped her phone closed, watching the road for a sign of the Range Rover. When it arrived, she hopped in and traveled the short distance to the Block Estate. Massie met her at the front door. She followed the brunette up to her room, which was overflowing with piles of clothing. Before she could filter it, words that she'd never meant to say slipped out of her mouth. "Could I have some of that?"

"What for? It's all last season."

"Never mind."

"You live in the Montador. You have the money to buy new stuff."

"I, uh, don'tliveintheMontador."

"What?"

"I live in the Pinewood Apartment building next to it. I didn't want to tell you guys cuz I was afraid you'd kick me out." She bit her lip and blinked to hold back tears.

"Oh, sweetie, we'd never do that. And of course you can have some. Or, here." She handed the girl a retangular piece of plastic with a magnetic stripe on the bottom.

"A credit card? What-" And then it dawned on her. "No way. I'm nawt accepting your charity."

"Don't think of it like that. My dad won't even notice you're using it."

"That's nawt the point." Her dark eyes faded to ice. "Just cuz I don't have money doesn't make it right for you to just hand stuff over."

"But that's what friends do."

Kristen thought about that for a second. She'd never hung out with the uber-wealthy Westchester girls, only middle-class. Maybe that really was what they did for fun. Swapped credit cards whenever they felt like it. But one look at Massie told her that wasn't true. "I can't take this." She lowered her gaze to the floor as she handed it back.

She felt Massie's smile before she saw it. "That's fine. But take whatever you want, whenever you want. It's what I'm here for." Although a beautiful, toothy grin graced her features, her eyes looked empty.

"Really?" Kristen didn't notice; she just felt hope for the first time in months, maybe even years, probably ever since her dad's best art deal fell through.

Massie's face closed off. "It's what a good Alpha does."