Chapter 65

Olive produced the black and gold card Elvis had given her. Everyone recognized this type of card; it was a symbol of wealth and affluence.

The cashier quickly accepted it, exclaiming enthusiastically, "Sure, Miss!"

Olive settled the bill in seconds. Gwen's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"How could that little bitch have such a card? Besides, didn't I just see 'Augustine' on it?"

Gwen knew little about Elvis, as he wasn't familiar with her. However, in LA, "Augustine" instantly brought Elvis Augustine to mind.

Pamela, who had struggled to maintain her composure, could contain her irritation no longer; a crack appeared on her face. She was convinced the card belonged to Elvis Augustine. How could Olive possess it?

Olive paid and walked toward Pamela, carefully adjusting the slightly heavy bags. Stopping beside her, she smiled softly.

"What do you make of this?"

Pamela's face fell. "You know Elvis Augustine? What's your relationship with him?"

"Pamela, you're not that dumb. Figure it out. A man gives his card to a woman—what do you think that implies?"

Pamela's eyes mirrored Monica's resentment. She loathed Olive and North, a hatred stemming from childhood. Olive and North had always been the center of attention, while Pamela often felt invisible.

"Do you regret your actions? Pamela, why were you so stupid as to demand a million dollars when you could have asked for his card? Too bad you'll never experience the pleasure that comes with it." Olive smirked and left the boutique with North.

North was awestruck by Olive's boldness. "Girl, you're ruthless! Not telling Pamela about your relationship with Elvis? Perfect. She'll be left guessing. The thought of not having it will drive her crazy."

Olive agreed. She knew Pamela well: her psychology was twisted; she constantly craved attention and fame. If Olive could take everything from her and beat her at her own game, Pamela would surely unravel. "North, where are we going now? We've already bought a lot." Olive complained.

North snorted. "Mr. Augustine must have received the debit alert by now."

Olive felt embarrassed. Using the card, her heart had pounded. Now, she realized she'd made unnecessary purchases. "What will Elvis think?" she muttered.

North pulled her arm. "Olive, a woman who knows how to spend will make a man love her more. What's Mr. Augustine afraid of? A few hundred thousand? He's way beyond that."

Olive couldn't argue.

North took Olive to a nail salon in the mall. "Let's get a manicure."

Olive had never had a manicure. Studying medicine, she only knew how to make drugs; she hadn't had time for such things.

The manicurist asked, "Pretty girls, what kind of manicure would you like? Need a recommendation?"

North shook her head. "No, thank you, miss. We'll choose ourselves." North was a fashionista; they needed no recommendations.

"Olive, what do you like?"

Olive browsed the nail art book, dazzled by the colors. North pointed. "How about this?" She indicated a beautiful pink.

The manicurist praised the choice. "Pink is a spring color. Very suitable for young girls."

Olive was young enough. North added softly, "Men will definitely like it." Her meaning was clear: Elvis was a man.

"Um, which color are you getting?" Olive quickly changed the subject.

North flipped through the book. "I'm looking for a color my boss will like."

As Olive's best friend, she knew North meant Raven. Two years after her eighteenth birthday, North had left the Domino family home, moving to LA and the entertainment industry—a double-edged sword offering fame or exploitation by powerful capitalists. Raven had secured a good producer and manager for her.

Olive leaned closer. "Raven seems very cold. Even tougher than Elvis."

Without looking up, North replied, "You're deceived by his appearance. He's kind and less arrogant than Mr. Augustine." She pointed to a color. "This, ma'am. I'll take this."

Olive saw North had chosen red—a rather flirtatious color. The manicurist finished with Olive. Another worker attended to North. Olive went to the balcony, barefoot.

She saw a tall figure at the door. Raven entered.

"Mr. Raven, you're here," Olive said with a smile.

Raven glanced at the salon. "Where's North?"

"She's inside, getting a pedicure. She'll be finished soon." Olive pushed the nail art book toward him. "Mr. Raven, which color do you think looks better?"