"Friends?" Brooke laughed a cold, short, sharp laugh. "Don't hold your breath. I'm going to be a Queen in the Club one day. I'd never be friends with a low-class, nouveau-riche, hideously dressed Cajun guttersnipe like you. At best, you'll forever be my inferior. At worst? Less important than a mote of dust." She switched her handbag from one arm to the other. "But don't worry. I'm learning how to be civil to others less fortunate than I. I'll be sure not to let you feel your inferiority all that often."