Estate of St. Germain

The blinding flashes of paparazzi cameras are the only stars in your sky tonight.

Your drunken body sways on the marble steps of your New York townhouse, bottles in hand, the torn fabric of your sneakers dragging on the pavement. You lost it all tonight – your mind, your judgment, your breath. But the show must go on.

Chuckling, you taunt the swarm of reporters, throwing bottles and plants in their direction. Inside, the familiar scent of burning incense greets you as you narrowly escape the chaos. The phone rings – it's your father, William, his voice laced with disappointment.

Later, after a quick hit of 'Gods dry skin,' you head out into the New York night, hailing a cab to Limelight. You still need to find your phone. As you pull up to your street with your best friend Kit and her friends, a van screeches to a halt, and a group of men in ski masks emerge, dropping off your sister Gemma and her drunk companions. One of them, Harry Styles, looks at you with an unnerving intensity.