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O, Claudia
There were celebrity girlfriends — and then there was her.
“Smile a little wider. There. That’s perfect, love.”
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Claudia tilted her head and beckoned with her fingertips towards the camera. She arched her back in one pose, hands fluttering to her forehead, before she closed her eyes and parted her lips. Her outfit was a gauzy white dress with its skirt torn in shreds, akin to what a mad bride might wear at some point on her jaunt down the aisle. The footage was beautiful — every ounce of it — when I saw it online.
I was an amateur celebrity journalist. When I wasn’t sleuthing for clues into the lives of the rich and famous, I was a grad student worrying about how to pay off her student loans after she was finished with her degree. One scoop, and I’d be on the way to having a burgeoning career at my fingertips. Friends of mine had gone the way of the social media influencers, but I wanted more.
How did I become so obsessed with Claudia? Well, I saw her on the arm of one Aaron Desmond in footage online of a Halloween party run amok. Aaron had been dressed as Dr. Frankenstein, complete with lab coat and make-up to look like scars on his face, while Claudia had stood beside him, as docile as a doll, in an outfit that would have made the Bride of Frankenstein blush. Her…
