Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“You’re a little diamond in the rough, sweetheart. Sure, we need to shine you up a bit, but you’re that sweet, sexy little piece of blonde beach Americana!” he explains, waving at me with his open hand as if it’s obvious to everyone but me.

“Sure, you dress like you’re still only a few years outta buying your whole wardrobe from Walmart, and you need to see a manicurist that doesn’t work out of a strip mall,” Vinny continues.

I instinctively hide my chipping glitter nail polish in the folds of the skirts of my faded sundress, suddenly weighed down by the specificity of Vinny nitpicking my appearance.

“Some girls come to this town, omega or not, and they already have tried to cover up where they came from with expensive designer clothes and bad extensions.” He shudders.

“But you’re like a slice of cherry pie.” Vinny beams.

“You put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on shit? It’s still shit,” Vinny continues, explaining seriously.

“You put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on cherry pie? Fuckin’ paradise, Daph,” he assures me.

The pair of us are forced into momentary silence as the waiter arrives with our sparkling water and veggie platter.

“Alright, so let’s say I believe you. Let’s say I’m ‘cherry pie’.” I allow, before continuing.

“I end up committing to one of these packs, and then I’m also committed to working with them professionally?”

Vinny waved his hands as if directing some unseen traffic.

“Not exclusively. You won’t be expected to be part of the band or be in every picture with one of the Dubois boys, but yeah, you would most likely end up being featured on singles as a kick start to transitioning to your own music career–or you’d make a couple of films with the Dubois bois etcetera,” he clarifies.

I tried to imagine it, going from daytime television, straight to the A-list. It was dizzying to try to think out the possible futures in detail. I was still skeptical of Vinny’s assessment of me as this metaphorical cherry pie.

Overwhelmed and already more than a little peckish, I decided that I would handle these life-altering decisions better on a full stomach. I was just about to snatch up some of the hummus and a roasted pepper from the platter in the center of the table when Vinny’s smug laugh stopped me.

“You must really have been impressed by the Lost Daze pack if you aren’t even going to check out that third folio.” He shrugged, somehow looking even more pleased with himself.

I’d been so thrown off balance from the first two I must have just blotted out the third.

Before getting into our food, I reached for the rectangle of leather, its rich mahogany fine grain soft under my fingers.

I am arrested by the scent of the first card. Creamy jasmine, hinoki woodsmoke, sweet almond. Floral, green, sweet, and smoky. Masculine, but with a surprising softness and mystery. Instantly, I feel as if I’ve been turned into molten liquid inside.

Breathlessly, greedily, I pull out the next card from the folio.

Juicy Pear, sparkling ginger, and a rich, buttery sweetness like a croissant fresh out of the oven transports me to a completely different place than the first scent. Safe, welcoming, comforting, but with a lascivious hunger panging just beneath.

“Can’t find one you like in there?” Vinny laughs nervously, suddenly put off his appetite, leaning watchfully across the table as I tear through the rest of the cards without so much as a nod to the man.

Two more left. The first was still the most powerful, but each subsequent swatch has only deepened my intrigue.

The third is a burst of citrusy floral bergamot, cut green grass, and sweet agarwood, a clean and calming beta scent. One with which I am familiar.

“Daph, kid, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Vinny reaches across the table as if to steady me, but I’m already pulling the final card from the folio.

That shadowy bittersweet burnt sugar of dark caramel, the warm syrupy sweetness of expensive cognac and fine tobacco.I notice a note of musk running through all four scents..

“This is Magnus Wagner, isn’t it?” I ask shakily, holding the card between us.

Vinny blinks, the crows’ feet that had pinched around his eyes while he had smiled, slackening.

“He didn’t tumble you while you were a beta, did he?” Vinny whispers, scandalized.

“No! Nothing like that,” I assure him, a little insulted that he thinks I would have tried to get a job from the great director, on my back.

The momentary anger isn’t enough to slow my pulse, to bring me back from the edge of manic hope.