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Paramedics attempted to revive Ms. Rossi at the scene after a party-goer performed CPR for twelve minutes until the ambulance arrived. Their attempts were unsuccessful.
The police have no suspects and advise anyone who attended Ms. Rossi’s event at the Paris MGM to come forward if they saw anything suspicious.
Cody Masterson, Ms. Rossi’s long-term boyfriend, made a statement about the influencer's untimely demise.
“Valentina was such a beautiful woman. She was the love of my life. I can’t imagine what I’m going to do now she is gone. If anyone knows anything, please come forward.”
Tyler Max, a spokesperson for Elite Energy, had this to say. “We are deeply saddened by Ms. Rossi’s passing, especially at an event sponsored by our company. Ms. Rossi was a professional associate and a pleasure to work with. She will be missed.”
Elite Energy has since announced that Ms. Rossi has been replaced as the face of Elite Energy by Patricia Pomello (@Pomerella).
I knew it was shallow and immature, but my lip curled at the sight of pink-haired Pomerella at the bottom of an article about my death.
Stealing my boyfriend was terrible enough, but stealing my obituary? Ugh. Could I not catch a break?
I had no memory of the party at all, aside from the vague snippets of arriving at the hotel with Cody and my entourage. Ilona, April, Bonnie, and Melina—who I trusted with my life.
When I had first watched the video, it had been like watching someone else entirely. A stranger.
I had put it down to being uncomfortable in my new body and the sudden shift from floating soul to a solid person again, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I wouldn’t have spiked my drink with alcohol, not at such an important event. I liked to be in control—and being drunk wasn’t being in control.
I had held an energy drink in the video—which made sense because I was sponsored by Elite. I had been for years, ever since I had jokingly pleaded with them on a video, and they had taken me up on the offer.
I hated feeling like I was a day late and a dollar short.
I was surrounded by spinning plates and fraying threads and had nothing to hold onto.
Yes, I was wallowing, but I felt like it was deserved.
Maybe it was finally time to have that drink.
After all, I had a brand new body. Might as well break it in.
After I pulled myself out of bed and into the partying masses, I couldn’t help but notice that Fletcher had changed his outfit—gone was the Pikachu hoody, and instead was a onesie made of white fleece and dotted with sugar skulls adorned with rose crowns.
Rome had made himself comfortable in the bend of the sectional in the next room, holding court with a bunch of strangers and smoking a joint.
Jamal leaned against the bar, a pint of beer in his hand, deep in conversation with another blonde woman in a dress that I would give my left tit to own.
A sequinned flapper dress—flattering in all the right places.
I couldn’t help but sigh.
I’d had dressing my body down to ascience.
Now that I had a new body, how long would it take before I felt comfortable in my skin again?
A cheer rose up amongst the crowd, and my attention was pulled to the TV—and the familiar futuristic backdrop on the screen. Someone stood in front of the entertainment system, decked out with a VR headset and dual controllers.
“Beatsaber!” I clapped, bouncing on my heels.
One of the guys at the Oculus turned. “You play?” He asked.
I held out my hand and made a ‘gimme’ motion, squealing when the familiar weight of the controller hit my hand.
I was kitted out before I knew it. Falling into a routine, I selected a song that I knew like the back of my hand—a fan favorite. Overkill by Riot.
