POV: Vivian
The premiere party for a film I'm not in but was invited to anyway happens three days after discovering Chase bought my set. It's one of those industry events where attendance is mandatory if you want to maintain relevance, where everyone pretends to care about art while really networking for their next project.
I arrive alone, Jackson having declined because "watching you pretend to be fine around Chase Sterling sounds like my personal hell." Sienna is my plus-one in spirit, texting me encouragement and reminders to breathe from her apartment where she's avoiding crowds since losing her visions.
The venue is predictably elegant: rooftop space with Manhattan skyline views, open bar, waiters carrying tiny expensive appetizers, everyone dressed like they're attending the Oscars instead of a mid-tier drama premiere.
