RICHKIDS

＂ Ｎｏｔ Ａｎｏｔｈｅｒ Ｐａｒｔｙ ＂ Part 2

Most people, even rich kids, could barely remember every little detail of their early childhood - even if they did have golden pacifiers and designer diapers. Yet Damon could still remember his mother, Glory. While Erika looked more similar to Matthew, Damon looked like Glory. Pretty pale skin, and light blue eyes - that Damon had directly inherited - always hidden by Gucci sunglasses because Matthew was always giving her black eyes.

He had witnessed more of the beatings than Erika had. He'd even help Glory when blood was leaking from her mouth like a faucet. So, when Matthew found her in the pure silver embellished bathtub, cocaine tablets still clutched in her lifeless hand, Damon thought it was for the best.

'Way to be depressing.' He scowled to himself as he parked his father's - well technically Erika's - corvette into the Beverly Wilshire hotel parking lot.

In the busy lobby, he seen the usual hotel residents; celebrities, old money men, and the partygoers of Brett's party. At the far corners where the elevators opened stood Brett, Paisely, and Benny. Damon had made his way towards them until he realized Benny was cursing angrily.

"Mia Matthews? Are you kidding me? She's so irrelevant!" She cried drunkenly and then she let out a muffled scream into Paisely's shoulder.

Damon wasn't in the mood for a cry fest so he headed straight for the party.

He really didn't feel like going to the party but after the expression on Matthew Felix's face at the game, he didn't want to go home either. He was pretty sure his father was going to murder him and dance around his ashes. 

The halls just outside of Brett's venue were filled with East Prep and Alabaster Prep students, all ditching their school attires for sexy mini dresses and Hudson jeans. A  Kanye West song was thundering from the venue and many guests on the same floor were watching the spectacle with dismay.

"Hey, I was wondering when you'd show up." Chris Edwards came through the crowd, hand raised for a high five.

Damon scowled. The last person he wanted to see was Chris. He hadn't seen the rest of the game but thanks to the local sports stations, he knew exactly who made the winning goal.

Chris shrugged. "Just making conversation, damn."

 Damon groaned. "You're just shitting rainbows because Coach is probably going to let you be captain."

"Who said that?" Chris exclaimed seeming disconcerted but then again, everyone knew Chris could be full of crap when he wanted to be. It was one of the reasons why Chris and Erika dating was a pair from Hell in Damon's opinion.

"That's what you guys were talking about back in the locker room." 

They both found themselves in a stare down again. Chris, possessing an innocent surprise and Damon, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to get into a fight. In the back of his mind, he wondered what happened to them. What had been playful banter had turned into all out war. Nonetheless, Damon knew the answer.

Chris Edwards was jealous of him as  Micheal Kors was to Kate Spade. 

It was Chris who broke the tension.

"Fine, we were talking about it," He grinned smugly. "Coach thinks its time for someone else to shine. You're not the only one with talent-"

"Bullshit." Damon muttered then, turning away from him and pushing through the thinning crowd. The angry bystanders were retreating to their rooms as there was no way they could get the hotel to shut down a Richers party. Damon decided he needed another driink.

Although cigarettes weren't sounding too bad either. Cigarettes kill but the calm buzz they give made it easier for Damon to put up with everyone's crap.