Overkill

03 | barbie girl

"You're staring."

Moxie brushed the comment off. Rather poorly by anyone else's standards,  she could assume.

"No, I'm not."

"The fact that you know what I'm talking about without asking means I'm correct."

No matter how many years went by of them knowing each other more than they knew themselves, Moxie and Mick could never indeed hide something from the other. That undeniable and endearing kind of sibling understanding was hardwired into their DNA. Most times, it was a gift. Other times, it could be conceived as insufferable, namely when she was called out for something she failed to recognize herself.

She took a final swig of beer before placing the empty bottle on the counter and hopping back onto the ground. Her brother's attention followed her every move, more amused than anything else. It was problematic to complain about him keeping a watchful eye when she was caught staring at the blonde starlet whose name never seemed to leave the headlines, even in the time since the King siblings traveled back to Los Angeles, but it wasn't like the Queen girl made that difficult either. Cruella Queen was a glitter bomb that popped in and out of the kitchen, snatching whatever she could get her hands on and dragging along a string of constant chatter that always seemed to follow. It wasn't as if Mick and Moxie didn't have to deal with that kind of attention as well to some degree, but she found it much easier to drown out the sound when it was directed at someone other than herself.

"Please refrain from your Moxie commentary while I'm trying to find a... distraction."

She usually had a good eye for the right people at these parties—the ones who could help her forget about all the nonsensical mischief that ran 24/7 in her head—but this party was proving to be a bust. Lana was preoccupied with flirting with Rami who looked like he was about ready to run back home, Mick was slumming it with his bored sister, and Moxie was losing any hope of getting laid tonight. At that point, she didn't want to anymore. (Fucking Christ, who was she?)

Cruella Queen disappeared back through the doorway with her on-again (off-again?) boyfriend in tow. Moxie still wasn't sure what exactly he did for a living. Maybe Ritchie Mendoza was simply just... Ritchie.

Mick snapped his fingers in front of her face. "You're still staring."

"And you're still annoying," Moxie quipped, shoving his hand away. The most annoying part was that he wasn't wrong. She had been. And she had also been caught doing so red-handed. Subtlety wasn't her fucking strong suit, okay? Especially when there was a pretty girl around. "Where's Lana?"

"Where do you think?"

Moxie groaned, tossing her head back. "Lovely."

"She's also trying to find her distraction."

"Lana doesn't need the distraction," Moxie argued. "She just genuinely enjoys the company of others. And everyone else enjoys her company, too."

Her brother burned a hole in the ozone with how strongly he looked at her. Nowadays, he felt more like the older sibling with how much he looked out for her. The best part about them being at the party was that there were too many distractions going on for him to truly get a good look at her and dissect the abnormalities of her behavior. Moxie could be a grump sometimes, but she was often better at hiding it. She wasn't even sure what it was that prevented her from enjoying herself tonight. If she didn't waste too much brain power thinking about it, the likely answer to her question was that she was more exhausted from rehearsals than she had realized.

"Where's your distraction?" Moxie directed pointedly at her brother with an expression too smug for its own good, treating her simple feat of saying literally anything as a gotcha! moment. '