She held her phone to show me an Instagram post. “Layne Beckett is wearing that dress. Or close enough.” She rushed past me and started rifling through my dresses muttering, “I’m going to kill that bitch. I bet it got out that you were wearing an emerald green Ossie Francisco. Then she posts herself on Instagram wearing the exact same color dress? Trust me, it’s no coincidence. Oh no, she knew what she was doing. Look at that satisfied smirk on her face,” Destanie said, shoving the phone toward me before turning back to my collection of dresses. “She’s only dating Freddie Halston so she can show up everywhere you do.”

Layne Beckett was a singer, and Freddie Halston was an actor like my boyfriend, Charlie, so we did attend many of the same events, though I’d never formally met her. I wasn’t quite convinced she was so wrapped up in competing with me that she’d arranged her dating life around that effort, but the dress was a low blow. And from what I’d heard, it was exactly the type of thing she’d do. And so here I was, standing practically naked in my closet with only minutes to finish getting ready.

“Plan B,” Destanie was muttering as she ripped through my clothing rack. “Aha!” She pulled a red number out, holding it up. It was a gift from a newish designer that I’d forgotten about, still in the clear plastic garment bag it’d arrived in the month before. “Put it on,” she said. “The shoes will still work. I’m going to spike Layne’s drink with a laxative at the after-party,” she said over her shoulder, an evil tilt to her grin as she breezed away.

I let out a half-hearted laugh. She was kidding of course. The laugh died quickly in my throat. Wasn’t she?

I put my mom back on speaker and began unwrapping the red dress. “Sorry, Mom. Fashion disaster narrowly averted.”

“Oh my. Sounds serious,” she said. “By the way, where are you going? It’s late.” As if to prove it, she let out a loud yawn.

“To a premiere.” I began pulling the dress on. “This is when the nightlife starts in LA.”

Out in the living room, I heard a knock and then the loud buzz of multiple people entering my apartment. Charlie’s entourage.

“Nightlife,” my mom repeated as I slipped my foot into one spiked heel. “Nightlife here is when nature calls at three a.m.”

“Gross, Mom.”

My mom let out a tittering laugh, and Destanie popped her head around the corner, her gaze moving up and down my body before she gave the thumbs-up and gestured for me to hurry up.