Carmen was so utterly iconic that it often left the public speechless. She was a point of controversy, but everyone was hungry for more of her work.

Her main profession was singing and dancing under the stage name Mentally Jill, her hit songs "Jacking off Jill,""Cabaret," and "Cellblock Bombshell" had reached the top of the charts within the first week of their release. But apart from her music, her fashion and public appearances were even more outrageous.

Most people met her with looks of shock and disgust, and that was exactly what she was aiming for. She had always been so outcasted and shamed her whole life, but now she thrived off that, embracing her artistry and uniqueness to make an iconic brand for herself.

Nobody could forget the time she got into an accident on the highway and rolled into court with a diamond encrusted neck brace and brassiere-blazer combo, or the time she arrived at an anti-pride even with a bullet bra stuffed with rainbow glitter bombs. The news especially had a field day when she arrived at the Grammys with a pack of men on leashes and an outfit composed entirely of belts.

But now the paparazzi were pestering her yet again...

She had just went out for a pack of cigarettes and an iced coffee, but of course, those leeches were on her ass the second they caught wind of her.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, her sunglasses slipping down her nose as her head lolled to the side.

"Don't you guys have anything better to do? You know, without the cameras you'd all just be stalker fans," she commented, her voice raspy from cigarette smoke as she shoved one of the lenses away from her face.

"We just want to ask a few questions, Miss Caddel," the paparazzi said, holding the microphone out to her. "There's been rumors you've been hanging around the famous rapper IKon. Some say you might be dating. Do you have any comment on that?"

Carmen let out an exaggeration groan, her eyes peering through her sunglasses toward the sidewalk ahead.

"How's your dating life, darling?" Carmen shot back, trying to make them realize how nosy and prying they were being. "Been to the club lately or is everything dried up down there?"

The paparazzi bristled at her words but still seemed insistent. It was driving Carmen half crazy... So, she came up with a crazy idea.

"Yeah, you know what? I am dating," she said, putting on a smug smirk as she looked over at the cameras. "That's, ah, my girlfriend over there. We're raging lesbians," she added, vaguely gesturing over to a street corner where someone just so happened to be standing.

"And before you ask, we both are the man in the relationship. Yeah. Take turns based off the astrological cycle, whenever mercury is in Gatorade or some shit," she added, flashing a grin before taking another puff of her cigarette.

The paparazzi seemed skeptical, camera lens switching between Carmen's face and the person minding their own business on the sidewalk.

"What? Don't believe me?" Carmen asked, raising an eyebrow. She chuckled, tossing her cigarette down to the pavement and stomping it out under her stiletto heel—the high heel sole melded with brass knuckles.

"See it and believe it, baby," Carmen said, eyes flicking to the camera before settling on the person.

With no hesitation or tremble of nervousness, she strutted over, her bleached blonde hair rustling in the city breeze.

"Hey! Darling!" Carmen greeted, approaching them. She smirked, leaning in and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Could you help a girl out? I gotta convince those paparazzi fuckers we're madly in love. For the tabloids, you know? I'll give you, eh... 500 bucks for a kiss. No strings attached.