Clout - Scene 3

Miles stands in the garage, phone blowing up, as the boys rib him about the clip that turned him into America’s latest fantasy. The jokes land heavier than they should. Then Sheen rolls through the bay doors, pen in hand, contract already drafted. Angel leans against the workbench, arms folded, watching Sheen circle like a shark. Miles keeps nodding. Angel’s stomach knots. Her phone buzzes. A friend has forwarded the video of Miles kissing Hazel. She watches it once, then locks the screen. The grease on her palms suddenly feels colder. A few blocks away, Hazel steps off the curb. A black sedan slows, window lowering to show Celeste, fresh off her first shift at Jack’s new club. They trade names, then glances, each of them trying to place the other. Celeste offers a ride and a spare room. Hazel climbs in. Back at Celeste’s apartment, Hazel peels off her jacket, then her shirt, letting full breasts spill free. Celeste answers with smaller, tight peaks that tighten under the cool air. They meet on the couch, mouths open, hands greedy. Celeste’s fingers find the wet heat between Hazel’s thighs while Hazel’s mouth draws slow circles around a nipple. They fuck like they’ve been starving for the same thing, sweat slicking their skin, breath mixing until neither can tell whose moan belongs to whom.