I posted this fanfiction on AO3 (leave kudos if you want) but in honor of the last episode of a Vanderpump Rules season about my favorite thing, idiots cheating on each other, I’d like to share some Raquel Leviss fanfiction. Enjoy!
Queen Raquel
“This is Vanity Fair, where everyone is striving for what is not worth having.” - William Thackery
Chapter 1: Scheana’s Wedding (1 of 2)
Raquel thought that an August wedding in Cancun ought to be a crime. The humidity relentless, seaweed choked the sea. Before the trip, Raquel had to max out one of her many credit cards to inject botox into her armpits to keep from sweating.
Raquel asked herself for the thousandth time why she was here. Scheana didn’t particularly give a fuck about her. All Scheana wanted was bodies, and to make sure there were many bodies around her, in case she needed to raise an army.
Raquel only had a few hours between the catamaran, where she baked in the humidity guzzled weak margaritas, and another party with stronger tequila. Life, it seemed, had turned into one endless party, where she was encouraged to drink to excess yet still behave herself, yet still find a reason to yell at somebody.
Needless to say, she billed an IV to another nearly maxed out credit card, and let the saline evaporate the alcohol from her veins, just so she could get drunk again later and still look fabulous. After the IV, she applied a Korean jelly to her entire body and lay naked on her bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the air condition tighten her skin into a shell.
Most of her life was spent this way, applying creams and waiting.
***
A field producer told Raquel that her storyline for the season was a summer of reinvention. Her relationship with James was over. Her beauty pageant days were over. Who was she now? Find out Wednesday nights at 9 PM on Vanderpump Rules!
The truth: The beauty pageants weren’t over, they simply morphed into this show. The day that she could sweat, fart, and smell again was the day her beauty pageants were truly behind her.
***
Raquel must have fallen asleep. She half-remembered a dream about Andy Cohen telling her to touch up her mascara while a nuclear missile detonated on a sandy atoll. A penguin vaporized. She picked up her phone. Not long until Scheana’s pre-wedding party. She opened her text messages.
Scheana: filming our scene at 7! pls be early. Don’t wear that hat you showed me.
Scheana produced a loving friendship on the show but only spoke to Raquel to insult her. Raquel sent the thumbs up reaction.
Schwartz: Hey
Schwartz: sup
Raquel could always trust Schwartz to send a drunk booty call at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. A field producer told her that she should pursue Schwartz. On the one hand, he was a sweet boy and fun to party with. He even texted her to hang out when cameras weren’t around. On the other hand, he was weird and old and poor.
She could imagine the Instagram posts though. They would cast a nice couple. A sweet one. The kind who held hands during Mumford & Sons concerts at Coachella. Schwartz would ask nothing of her besides chugging Coors Light, petting his dogs, and perhaps sex, but most likely drunk cuddling.
A relationship with Schwartz would also piss off James. A man who expected the world, received it, and still mustered the cruelty to call Raquel’s father (the only family member who loved her) a cuck at Thanksgiving dinner. James regularly called Raquel dumb, and stupid, which may be true because it was stupid to love him. Just last week, he told her he fucked Lala after years of denying it, then waved it away like it was one big joke.
Raquel would like to upset James. She would like to watch him suffer. She could see the way he still looked at her. He would suffer.
Raquel tried on outfits, then discarded them. A text arrived from Tom Sandoval.
Sandoval: Brock’s party was fun though his friends are insane. You’ll be pleased to know everyone is ignoring James and he is fuming at not being the center of attention. Schwartz blew it on camera. At least it’s good TV but I feel bad for the guy. Katie fucking sucks, dude. How was the boat? I wish you could be here.
Raquel: Katie sucks. The catamaran was honestly boring. Production tried to force me to have this, like, talk with Ally. Sometimes I feel we’re living a cruel joke being forced to talk to our exes’ new astrology girlfriends. They wanted me to “warn” her about James so it looks like I’m not over him. I told them fuck no. I wanted to talk shit about Lala. Framed it as rising above the bullshit while at the same time insinuating she might drown me in the ocean.
He started typing right away. He always did. Sandoval was dependable in his constant communication. Schwartz only texted when he was drunk. James called when he was drunk, often to berate her, even after their breakup. Sandoval was always so available.
Sandoval: Our lives are fucked up but it pays slightly better than bartending.
Raquel: Except I have to actually work at SUR unlike the rest of you.
Sandoval: Hey, you look hot in the uniform.
She paused, hesitant. Before she could respond:
Sandoval: Want to do some cocaine?
Raquel: YES.
***
Raquel did not plan on sleeping with Tom Sandoval. It was after the trip to Las Vegas and Lake Havasu City when they Katie and Lala kept telling her over and over again that she was stupid, she was a whore, she was a stupid whore, she was terrible for thinking (thinking!) about making out with Schwartz.
Lala Kent was sober now, so her own cheating no longer counted, and her tits were new, so even her body could not be held liable past behavior. By bullying Raquel, Lala could erase her past and make herself into something new.
There is only so much abuse one person can put up with. Raquel thought of her mother. When Raquel told her that she wanted to be a teacher, Laura laughed, and said oh but you’re so pretty, that’s what you’re good at. Raquel thought of James sending text after text about what a dumb bitch she was.
Fuck literally everybody.
Raquel only planned to piss Katie Maloney off. She drank too much. Sandoval said he would drive her home, and inside of the car, she made some joke, something she couldn’t remember now, he put his hand on her face and said you’re cute, and they kissed.
If Raquel was already a whore without doing anything, she might as well fuck Tom Sandoval. A sense of divine rage made her slip her panties off and mount Sandoval in the driver’s seat of his truck. You’re an angel, he said at each thrust.
Yes, she told him, I am a fucking angel.
She felt ashamed the next day. Ariana wasn’t so bad as the rest of them. Shewas worried she would get a call from a producer about how she was the other woman now! A flash of a reunion where everybody screamed at her and Sandoval said she took advantage of him.
To her surprise, Sandoval called her to talk it through. They agreed it was nothing. Alcohol. They were just friends, and it wouldn’t happen again. Tom and Ariana had an open relationship, so no worries there, but best not to tell anybody anyway.
***
Raquel met Sandoval on the seaweed choked beach. A daybed was overturned and fat dead jellyfish dotted the shore. She wore a while silk neglige that clung to her tits. He wore a floppy white hat. They sat in an abandoned cabana and passed the coke back and forth.
“Where’s Ariana?” she asked.
“Where do you think?”
“In bed, watching Love Island?”
“It’s like we're on a reality TV show. It’s our fucking job, and all she wants to do in our downtime is consume more reality TV,” he said, doing a bump, then dipping his head back. “I don’t think she’s spoken more than five words to me since we’ve been here. She’s not mad or anything. It’s just like, our life.”
“James was like that,” she said. “I was a nuisance to him unless we were out and then he would pack on the PDA, call me beautiful, parade me around to all of his friends. Then at home he just called me a stupid bitch for watching Netflix too loudly while he was ‘working’ which really meant taking Adderall and maniacally pacing the length of the apartment screaming at the dog. Secretly drinking, I think, but whatever!”
“Good Lord,” Sandoval said, examining her closely, like she was a manatee stuck in a net. “He is such a fucking shit. You’re, like, a saint for putting up with him. Thank God you never got married.”
Nobody had told her that, even her mother, who James once called fat. She just said that she was sorry, that he had a charming accent, and if this meant they would kick Raquel off the show. He was your ticket to stardom, Laura said. Her mother badly wanted to appear more regularly on the show.
Raquel shrugged. “At least he shielded me from the girls. Now, I have no idea what to do. In the show, or my life.”
“Thought of starting a cover band?” he said. She laughed. “Listen, I know the band sucks,” he said. “I can’t sing for shit, but it makes me happy, and so few things do.”
“You have a good life,” Raquel said. She mainly thought of his nice house.
“I don’t,” he said, slipping a cigarette out of the pack. “I need to be high to endure most of it.” A crab examined a jellyfish corpse.
“Drugs make loneliness preferable,” she said. Raquel thought of her bio mother, blissfully watching Jeopardy high on her dog’s medicine, calling out the wrong answers. Sandoval looked at her, really did, as if for the first time.
“Life is short,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “We should spend it doing things we love. Even if it’s embarrassing. Even if it explodes in the end.”
Raquel started crying. Embarrassingly enough, she did this recently without warning. She once googled why she cried all of the time, hoping there was some flaw in her biology that she could inject a needle into, but it just linked her to a suicide hotline.
“Oh, no, hey,” Sandoval said, but he wasn’t mad like James always was (“Manipulating me again, are you?”). He took Raquel’s hand in his and rubbed soothing circles into her palm. “Don’t you love anything?”
She looked at him, a flowery sheer button-up with cream slacks and no shoes. His hair, too oily and slicked back. He smelled like cigarettes, booze, and iron, rancid, like biology ought to. She rubbed the tears and snot onto the hem of her sleeve.
Raquel didn’t know if she loved anything.
Alina, the field producer, appeared, sweaty and relieved.
“There you are,” she said, hand to heart, her keen eyes catching Tom’s hand releasing Raquel’s. “Time to film.”
The sensation of Tom’s sweaty fingers drew circles into her palm as they headed back to the resort.
***
Raquel nursed her fourth drink and let the conversation lull her into a stupor. She went around complimenting things, the fire dancers, the photo booth, the bongos Scheana’s stupid outfit. Raquel chose hot guys to stand next to and checked her phone.
“Raquel,” Alina nudged her. Scheana was screaming Schwartz’s name. Raquel drank the rest of her champagne and tottered into the pool (why the fuck was there a high-top in the pool?) and squeezed in between Schwartz and Ariana. Sandoval winked at her.
“Are you open to it?” Scheana used her musical theater voice.
“Yes,” Schwartz slurred, closing one eye to focus.
“You only want to make out with people when you’re married to someone else,” Scheana said, a clearly practiced line, like a mischievous ferret.
Schwartz laughed, or vomited into his hand, Raquel wasn’t sure. Sandoval looked handsome and collected. Cocaine. He should have shared it with Schwartz, who moaned about his girl. Katie, his poor girl.
***
Yesterday, Raquel walked up to Katie’s room and told her that Scheana didn’t want her anywhere near her wedding. Raquel knew Scheana was kidding when she asked for this on camera, but somebody needed to prod the kindling of resentment and rage that lived in Katie. For TV’s sake, Katie needed to, as she often said, light somebody on fire. Alina later congratulated her on her quick thinking. Scheana laughed in her face and told her she didn’t mean to really do it.
No shit, Scheana. Somebody needed to carry this fucking show. If it was up to Scheana, it would be about buying headbands for her ugly baby.
***
Raquel smiled and waited patiently for everybody to stop yelling at Schwartz, who would not remember this in the morning. He was lucky he had this show, because otherwise Raquel was certain he would have no memory of the last ten years. It was the only record of his pathetic life. Schwartz then disappeared to harass Katie at the restaurant as she gnawed on corn on the cob.
Sandoval sidled up next to her. “I told him to ask Katie to trim his armpit hair.”
Raquel laughed out loud. Ariana groaned.
“Tom,” she said. “Grow up.”
“We’re on Vanderpump Rules,” he said sharply. “We can’t grow up.” Ariana rolled her eyes and spoke to a boom operator about the new Marvel movie. Ariana thought she was much smarter and more mature than all of them by speaking about Marvel movies to the help.
***
When she next saw Schwartz, he was deep in conversation with a producer, nodding his head with more and more vigor as the conversation went on. The producer clapped him on the shoulder and then Schwartz caught her gaze. She gave him a little wave. He steeled himself, straightened up, and marched towards her.
“Fuck Katie,” he said, his eyes glassy. “Lets make out.”
She shrugged: ”Sure.” When the cameras were trained on them, Raquel asked if he wanted a ride on the swing then led him to the other side of the pool.
Lala and Katie stared at the them with pursed lips. Raquel so wished she could give them the finger. Brock screamed at them to make out.
***
Once, Brock tried to put a finger in Raquel’s vagina at a Papa John’s.
***
Raquel let Schwartz ramble on. She grinned and squealed at the right time. Fruit flies hovered everywhere. She told him she couldn’t stop thinking of him. He leaned forward, his lips slightly parted, like an amphibian’s anus, his mouth smelled like prosciutto.
Schwartz slobbered on her. It was like kissing her dog Graham, if Graham had drank 25 White Claws.
***
They tried to make out again. She insisted, hoping it would be better. It was not better. The smack of their lips were so loud. Maybe if she had another shot? Or ten? Schwartz burped and said “I need to go home,”
Afterwards, Scheana told her “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Katie.”
Sandoval said, “Want to do some molly?”
***
They went back to Scheana’s room where she snorted molly in a bathroom. Everyone squealed at her about Schwartz. Raquel felt Sandoval’s eyes on her, smelled him, a rainforest, the buffet of a Royal Caribbean cruise. St. Louis, Missouri. He threw a card at her and said it was Schwartz’s room key. They all took off their clothes and went swimming. Then, the cameras finally turned off. Alina beckoned her over. Raquel swam up with a healthy portion of Casamigos.
“Do you like him?” Alina asked hopefully. She had already planned Raquel’s life out. Who hadn’t?
“No,” Raquel said.
“He’s so nice!” Alina protested.
“Then you fucking date him,” she told Alina, who frowned at her. It was probably a wrong move. They were all little puppets with Bravo’s hand up their asses. Raquel didn’t care.
Fuck off, Alina.
***
Hours passed. Sandoval shimmered, his arms stretched over the rim of the hot tub. The smoke from his damp cigarette twisted in the air elegantly. The veins in his arm crawled around him like a cocoon. He was full of so much goodness, everything in a hot tub was full of so much goodness. People spoke of all the bad things in the world but what about hot tubs, and jet skis, and MDMA— were they not proof of God?
As the sun rose, he walked her back to her room. She had to film a massage, or nails, or something. Sandoval walked her back to her room. Ariana left hours before, right after the cameras stopped rolling.
She leaned on his arm. They wandered silently. Too high to say anything. The hotel was a maze. They passed a bottle of tequila between them. They giggled every now and then. Children ran past them to go on excursions. Busses past poverty and cartels to coral reefs.
The elevator door opened, then closed. They both laughed. They were supposed to get in. The sun rose behind his head and he glowed like a prophet. Heavenly father. He pushed her back against the cool brick and kissed her.
The world cracked open like a nut and oozed honey.
I'm convinced none of this would have happened if the tragic events of January 6 hadn't unfolded precisely so.