til i hear it from you [bay/day]

[d4 tati pelotte [azalea]]

So, I've finally arranged a meeting with this supposed "super fan" who has been stealing my style and my fans... and honestly? I'm fearing for my life. Who knows what this whore is capable of? I mean, if she's basing her entire career of off someone as unhinged as me, then surely she is unstable enough to, like, knock a rhinestone loose from my vajazzle or something. I know I am, and I am the blueprint, after all.

I've made sure to get the power dynamics of this meeting like, in my favour. She's coming to my office, she will be sitting in a small, fold-up chair whilst I am in a freshly upholstered throne-esque designer piece and she will have to raise her hand if she wishes to speak. Is it a bit too much? I don't think so. If she's seriously serious about seriously copying me, she'll be living to serve someone who she idolises.

As she should! Honestly, as she should. I paved the path her feet walk on, so really, it's the least she can do.

There's a buzz on the phone and I get my assistant to answer.

"She will see you now." He says, his lifeless voice resembling the grating sound of a washboard or some washed up pop-stitute who is clinging to the crumbs of her career via some sorry residency. He slams the phone down and waltzes towards the door.

It opens and there she is: tall, brunette, wearing an outfit I've already worn, and worn better, might I add. I can smell her perfume and it's not anything I'd wear, in fact, it seems to have undertones of... green. It smells green. And I don't know if this is my 'coming out' as someone with synaesthesia or whatever, but one thing about me: green is the devil's colour.

You know why grass is green? Because it's growing from hell. At least, that's what my now dead, monk uncle once told me. Must be some sort of religious proverb.

Her perfume is not the only thing which sticks out to me, because the other thing I immediately notice is something quite literally sticking out: those toes. Why would anyone wear an open toed shoe that does not fit? I get that being an artist is all about the struggle, but come on, I could write an entire album about how seeing those toes cling to those shoes is worse than any heartbreak a girl could ever feel. I won't do that though, but if she's lucky, I'll maybe set up a donations page online to try and fund a pair of blood bottom heels.

Only if she's lucky, though. I only do charity when there are media outlets around and there's no way I'm going to willingly be photographed with her.

I smile at her, well, if you can call it a smile. It's more like I've just grit my teeth and opened my mouth to show them off. My assistant takes her coat and I give him a nod. I'll be sending that to the lab for testing because there's no way someone of her status is wearing real mink. I gesture for her to sit down in the crappy chair, careful not to extend my arm too much to attract her bad aura. My chakras are healed and I don't need anything threatening my sphere of gorgeous peace.

"Such a nice dress," I say, leaning back into my throne, eyeing her from across the desk. Of course, I'm lying. It looks like someone died in it just yesterday. "So... so... so-so to finally meet you!"

[d4 tati pelotte [azalea]]

Today is finally the day.

There has been so much drama going on that the days have been flying by, and honestly, I'm glad. I've been keeping myself busy because being busy means time goes faster and time going faster means that I get to meet Bay faster. It's probably the opposite for her - she probably sees me as some kind of predatorial threat looming in the distance trying to snap her up via online news headlines and 'who wore it better' articles in magazines... but really, she shouldn't be worried. I couldn't bite anyone, at least, not with these veneers.

I love them far too much. Thank you Dr. Liz Angeles!

When I'm finally let into her office, I realise that it is a little cheaper than I expected. There's this small, fold-up chair that I'm gestured to sit on whilst she's on some plastic throne that looks like it was made by children overseas. I understand that Bay has had money problems, but I thought that having class and elegance extended far beyond one's own financial status. Those things are innate, but perhaps I've just been wrong about Bay.

"Such a nice dress," she says. Of course, she says that because she wore it two weeks ago to a dinner event. Style icon, honestly, if it wasn't the fact it was styled incorrectly. And, it was slightly ill-fitting for her, so I got mine tailored to fit my body perfectly: tight at the waist and cropped ever-so-slightly above the knee to make my legs look longer.

"So... so... so-so to finally meet you!"

"The pleasure is all mine, trust me. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Because it's not everyday you get to meet the person you have modelled yourself and your career on - especially when there are rumours of that certain someone having an addiction problem and they could end up in a rehab facility any day. Alas, it's better late than never. If I left this any longer, she could honestly be dead - and that would be tragic for the both of us.

"I don't want to waste my time so let me cut to the chase." The chair creaks as I lean forwards, placing my elbows on her desk. "You're tired. The only time anyone ever talks about you is when I do something. And whilst you sit here acting so high and mighty like your farts don't stink, I don't need to act, because my career is thriving." I glance around her office. "Yours... is not. The reality is: you need me and I need you. One cannot go on without the other, so whether you like it or not, we're in this thing together now. Get used to it."

I've got a perfume releasing next week, I'm on three talk shows this Friday, my album is coming out and she's going to be in the spotlight again because of how many times I namedrop her. I should really think about starting to charge her for all this promo, but I respect my elders far too much to actually invoice someone who is pushing forty.

"You probably think I'm a crazy, super-obsessed fan who needs a restraining order filed against her, and you can go ahead and think that... but you need to realise that we could do so much more if we worked together. We can orchestrate and manipulate things... bigger things than calling each other a lard with no heart, or a bitch dead in a ditch or a pig in a wig or whatever!" I sigh, standing up frantically and eyeing her from above. I pull a business card from my purse and slam it down onto the desk in front of her. 

"So, what's it going to be?"