Jace sprawled out on the neon-pink couch—a piece he'd insisted on buying for the apartment where he crashed with his label mates—and blew a lungful of earthy smoke overhead. His body felt like it had transcended normal function after all the weed he'd torched through tonight. First flight to the moon? Hell, he was already there, cruising in orbit.

River shifted, lifting his head from the lap of a girl in a crop top that didn't even try to hide her nipples. His arm stretched out in a slow-motion reenactment of the "Creation of Adam", though his intentions were much more mundane—namely, grabbing the joint from Jace's tattooed hand. He brought it to his lips immediately, taking a long drag.

"Your busted bitch coming today?" he asked, his voice a little raspy, as he shotgunned the smoke to the nipple girl.

Jace leaned back, staring at the graffiti-streaked ceiling. The spray-painted blue rose petals seemed to spiral above him, transforming the world into some trippy "The Little Prince" fever dream.

"Probably. She's always fucking lurking—so desperate to outshine her siblings that she'll latch onto any piece of shit just to get a taste of fame."

Cody cackled from across the room, pouring vodka into Sprite before chucking in a couple of ice cubes.

"Jace, babe, that'll only happen if you PAY them. I mean, come on—looking at her hurts my fucking soul." He yanked the skin on his cheeks downward in an exaggerated grimace, mimicking his eyeballs melting, earning howls of laughter from the room.

It was true. In the Maynard family's genetic lottery, she didn't win a single prize—if anything, she collected all the shit on her face that she could. She was one of those girls you'd want to talk to with a McDonald's bag over her head, preferably without eye holes.

"Fuck, I've never seen a chick who plastic surgery can't help. She chopped off half her fat-ass cheeks for those implants, glued on some cheekbones, pumped up her lips and still looks like a fucking Smurf. How is that even possible?"

"Imagine how bitter it must be for her to look at all those photos with her family, where she's the shittiest spawn?"

Jace swirled the glass in his fingers, turning to the two brunettes by the speakers.

"Kitties, can you turn up 'The Brightside' a bit louder, please? You'll be my little angels if you do." He gave them a soft smile, and the girls practically melted.

The elevator dinged. As soon as she walked in, Jace slowly turned his head towards her, giving her his signature smile—lazy, warm, showing his elongated fangs.

"Heyyyy, babe. Come sit on my lap." He patted his thighs invitingly. "Rolled you a joint—this shit is killer."