[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180323/e9b8b12a688b5eea08de2958519306f7.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/fnqjP4T.gif[/img]
[sub][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFksmLMkoZ0]Don't you make him mean and cross; 'Cause he'll show you who's the boss[/url][/sub] 


For the first time in a while, Roz really wanted a cigarette. Not many knew that Roz used to be a smoker - but then no many know anything about Roz, even her trusted confidant only knew enough to make Roz consider him useful and a great friend. Like many youths who pick it up, she thought it would make her more mature but all it did was make her cough and feel miserable, and high school was miserable enough without also adding nicotine and crippling addiction to the mix. The cravings had since subsided but every so often something around the high school campus stirred up the feelings of really needing to go behind the bleachers and steal a quick smoke. 

Something just felt [i]off[/i] about today. Given that she was already on edge given her mysterious benefactor meeting tomorrow, Roz arriving to school with a healthy bit of paranoia wasn't unusual. She could smell it in the air as soon as she walked up the steps and entered the building. It was there, right with the odorous stench of hormones, body spray, spray tans, and the wafting cloud of fecal matter and smug from everyone having their heads so far up their asses they had shit for brains. She paused in the entrance hall and had a cursory glance at the student body coming and going, not really acknowledging her as she listened in to the noise. 

A crying short girl brushed past Roz's shoulder, another casualty of the shamrock slut no doubt. The tone of conversation seemed unusually upbeat for being a Tuesday morning at the worst place in the greater Hills area. Roz perked up her ears trying to pinpoint exactly what had people in a state of elation. Something smelled fishy, and it wasn't coming from between Brynn Payne's legs this time. Not [i]yet[/i] anyway. It was early still and that was more a second period matter. 

Beverly Hills High had a vibe to it and Roz liked to think she was tuned to the right frequency to pick it up. She had to be. She had to keep a note of every student that was noteworthy. Or at least those who went around acting like they were noteworthy because they drew the winning hand in the game of life by being popped out of some bougie beaver or else had made up for a distinct lack of personality by having a distinct amount of drugs and sex so that by age twenty one they'd already be set up for a life of disappointing sexual encounters and spousal abuse due to their impotency. 

But the vibe was different today, as if someone had thrown a boulder in the pond and everything was rippling and breaking the surface. It wasn't just the heightened bit of paranoia over tomorrow's brunch. Roz could feel it in the atmosphere. And then she could hear it. Quickly turning as a gaggle of gals walked past, she heard a name that gave her pause. Helmsley. 

If ever there was a family that could use with a lesson in safe sex and the dangers of inbreeding, it was the Helmsley's. Roz could neither confirm nor deny that any inbreeding actually occurred within the Helmsley family tree but with a family so obsessed with legacy and dynasty she wouldn't put it past them. They had enough money to have doctors fix up any birth defects. Except they had eight defects and the law frowned on murder. The Helmsley's were close with the Greens, if Roz's research into the matter was accurate, and it seemed oddly timely that days after she put a Green on blast so publicly that people were calling him a rapist damn near to his face that now the Helmsley's were on the lips of the student body. 

[color=FFFACD][b]"Thanks."[/b][/color] Roz snagged a flyer from a passing student and was walking down the hall before the student could even respond. 

This was a new one. Not even a week after the now infamous beach party and there was another one in the works. Tonight. A school night. Not that that mattered, these students could fail all of their classes and still get into fucking Harvard by having their parents build a sperm bank on campus. To contain the jizz from their self-aggrandizing. It still felt unusual. Parties were weekend things. Friday into Saturday. Saturday into Sunday. But Tuesday? On a boat? 

Roz considered shooting Lucky a message, he was better at mingling with a certain crowd of person so it was possible he had some more information than just the existence of a party, but as the bell rang signaling home room and the start of the school day she decided against it for now. Roz simply crumpled up the flyer and tossed it in the nearest bin. The last thing she wanted to do was go on a fucking boat with these people. At least a beach house had exits and an escape route. This was like a Titanic situation in the making.

As Roz was settling into class, wondering if she could just get away with blasting the party pre-emptively then just piecing together a story from sloppy posts on social media, the morning show came on in all its awkward splendor. Whoever was in charge of producing these could really use a lesson in reporting and presentation. The topic of an upcoming Sadie Hawkin's dance made Roz scoff. Like she was going to be asking someone to that shitfest; though she might have to go stag depending on how things progressed with her Right Hand Man and his trip to the petting zoo. 

But then Brian Helmsley appeared on camera. So the whispers weren't just talking out of their ass. Since when did the school let students advertise parties - parties hosted by Damian O'Connor who was surely still reeling from the attack Roz had done on his last shindig. But she figured when all you have to offer the world is money even staff members allow it with the right paycheck in the pocket. As others in the class seemed to not really listen or care much for this portion of the show, Roz listened and listened closely. 

Brian had, after all, mentioned her by name. 

Roz didn't let it show on her face but she was staring at the television as if Brian and she were the only ones around. Brian Helmsley was sending a message and suddenly the smell she sensed earlier was taking shape. The fact that there was a party so soon after the last, that involved Damian, and that had one of the hosts personally inviting her to the festivities...it all smelled suspicious. The question Roz had to answer was simple. Did she accept the invitation or not, knowing full well it was as suspicious as an unlocked car with the keys in the ignition. 

[color=FFFACD][b][i]'What's your angle, Helmsley? And how badly does it fuck it up if I decline?'[/i][/b][/color] Roz was deep in thought even though she had already made up her mind. 

Brian Helmsley had essentially made Roz Norcross the guest of honor. And she would hate to disappoint when someone rolled out the red carpet for her. 

[color=FFFACD][b]"Consider me your fucking iceberg."[/b][/color][/center]