I was angry.
It was as if my entire nineteen years worth of upper class upbringing was being thrown away like it was nothing more than common garbage. My Father, the sleek, strict, fierce high powered political attorney, the man who stressed power and appearances above all else, the man who didn't believe in love - even to his only daughter, the man who was never home; got remarried to... to... to that!
My Mother was the quintessential trophy wife. She was a beauty incarnate platinum blonde bombshell with surgical enhancements added for the finishing touches. Her only jobs were to be gorgeous, help a few nonprofits (Father didn't care which ones, and all she did was donate - appearances to the public matter!), and, of course, raise me. She was perfect and I was her canvas.
My stunning DNA came directly from her, and she showed me how to use it to my full advantage. Fashion, make-up, how to platinum blonde dye my hair, and flirting with purpose were all in my arsenal by the time I became a teenager. In my formative years, manipulation and coercion were my lesson plans. Finally, for my eighteenth birthday, she finished her masterpiece with my cosmetic surgeries. Nothing major - you need to make sure it all still looks real, she would always say - my breasts, ass, and lips were all touched upon to take me from a nine and a half out of ten to a fourteen. I was perfect, just like her.
My Mother passed away right as I graduated High School. I wasn't devastated, as I knew it was coming. I had known for several years of her addiction to coccaine, and Father shrugged me away the few times I tried to tell him. Honestly, I'm surprised it hadn't happened sooner.
I wasn't even lost, as Mother incorporated a very thorough road map in me on how to be successful - marry wealthy and dominate underlings - but her loss did hurt. My Father, whose lack of love didn't allow him to grieve nor be someone able to comfort me, simply brushed me off by giving me an all expenses paid three month summer vacation to travel Europe before my attending State University in the fall.
Of course, I wasn't looking forward to college either, but having a diploma looks good to people and being able to speak in an educated manner in a social setting is a valuable skill, "you don't want to sound retarded," my Mother would always say. All that meant was I didn't need straight A's; passing was enough. I, of course, coerced Genevieve Holbrook, the girl who did all my homework in High School, to come with me to State University as well. I love when people don't have a choice in doing what you say.
I knew something was amiss when I pulled up to the mansion in my cherry red 992 Turbo S Porsche and Juan wasn't there to valet my car. Even more alarming was when I elegantly strode inside, careful not to let my pink Versace sundress to get caught on the heavy wooden door, and Abul wasn't there to bring in my luggage. Even worse was when I went to the kitchen, the clicking of my stiletto heels offering the only sound coming from the almost always ruckus fueled room, and Tao wasn't there to make me food after my long, tiring first class flight. What in the hell is going on here? There didn't appear to be a maid, a butler, a groundskeeper, or a servant of any type around... Where is everybody?
My attention was drawn to the back yard by a sound that was foreign to this household... laughter. When I stepped on the patio, I took off my large, Prada sunglasses to witness the atrocities first hand with my hazel eyes.
My Father was in our Olympic sized pool. My Father was laughing in our Olympic sized pool. My Father was picking up a whale sized giggling black haired woman and tossing her in the water while laughing in our Olympic sized pool.
None have ever occurred before.
For the first time that I can remember, my body, on its own volition mind you, did the ungainly act of having my jaw drop, completely stunned at the improbable sight.
"There she is!" Father exclaimed as he held the hand of the walrus while they started marching toward the ladder of the pool. "Yvonne, I would like you to meet someone."
I pulled myself together. I may have been caught off guard with this situation happening in my own home, but now was the time to assert my dominance. My eyes narrowed, my lips tightened, while my body relaxed to a calm, threatening demeanor. I was a python ready to strike. I swear I could feel the seismic trembling of the earth as this woman stalked closer.
My Father smiled, "Yvonne, my daughter, I would like you to meet Francine, my wife."
'Did he just say wife?' I barely caught my eyes from becoming saucers. I tempered my breathing from this surprise attack. I stared pure menace into her eyes as I spoke, "What are you; a size 16?"
"Uh, yeah, umm..." Francine held out her hand.
Direct hit. The outmatched woman stood bewildered at my brazen question. I ignored her hand and didn't even spare the pathetic woman a second glance as I turned my attention to my Father, "Where are all the servants? I need Abul to unpack my car and Tao to make me that chicken dinner that is nonfat and low in calories; I have to stay trim so I don't end up a size 16, you know. I mean, someone that size deserves a harpoon, not a ring." I held back my smirk; my Mother taught me oh so well.
SMACK!
My face burned red as my Father slapped me across the cheek. "What was that for?"
"You will show my wife the utmost respect in my house or you can get out... and without your credit cards!" My Father's eyes showed his fiery displeasure. "This is your only warning."
Now that was the strict, stern, and fierce look I was accustomed to seeing from my Father. He meant every word. I stewed in my anger, fear of what might occur if I utter even a peep of reprisal.
Father then offered a warm smile as he put his arm around his wife, "And Francine convinced me that I was being cruel to our immigrant help with not even paying a living wage and constantly threatening deportation. So to make it up to them, I filed and fast tracked all the paperwork so they could become citizens."
"Don't worry, Dear," Francine gave me a look I had never seen before... a motherly expression that showed compassion. My Mother was always, "this is how it is and this is how you get what you want," never compassion. She then continued, "I've had years of practice being a homemaker. I can take care of a household of four. Dinner will be ready at 5:30."
Father chuckled, "Ha, ha, isn't she great?" He then had a deep smoldered look in his eye as he leaned in and kissed Francine. "I love you."
Yes, I was angry.
I turned with a muted huff, angry at what has become my life. No, angry isn't even a strong enough word. My Father went off the deep end; since when does he laugh and believe in love? Even if this Francine woman was a fucking Princess, the optics of him getting married only four months after Mother overdosed is insane. He sent me away for three months and all of a sudden he hitches his bed to Suzy Homemaker? Not to mention he freed the servants? Why? The servants were why I chose to stay home for college. Does Father expect me to do everything myself? Or worse, let that tub of lard handle any of my clothes; that woman wouldn't know Gucci from her Salvation Army hand me downs. She can handle a household of four - ha! - she probably... I stopped myself half way through the kitchen, mid mind rant, "Did she say four?"
"Hello, you must be Yvonne."
FUCK! I took a breath as I turned to see a thin, gangly looking teen with I don't give a fuck black hair wearing an anime t-shirt and jeans. His expression was one of compassion, but unlike Francine's motherly version, his was like he was begging for forgiveness. If this Loser expected a response, he was sorely mistaken.
"Very well," he continued. "My name's Jude Griffith, seventeen years old, and your Father married my Mom." He then shrugged," I'm attending your old High School next week for my senior year, so if you have any advice, I'll surely take it. I've never been to a private academy before."
I grabbed a crystal goblet, "What do you want; a cookie?" I turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle Veen, and poured. The smooth water helped, albeit slightly. There were just too many surprises in a too short amount of time today.
"Just so you know, size 16 is normal to the rest of the world. You can do irreparable harm to a girl when you pose impossible standards of beauty on them through magazines, television, and worst of all, people like you on social media with your unrealistic expectations for an impressionable teenager. I knew a girl who suffered from a severe case of anorexia; she would starve herself and even when she did eat, she threw it up. Her body was failing her because it couldn't get any of the nutrients it needed to sustain her life." Jude then thought for a moment as if in a fond remembrance, "She was my first and I am proud to say that because of me, she is finally happy with her fully healthy self."
So the Loser wasn't a virgin. Congratulations, yeah, great for him... That doesn't mean he's right. "And who are you, Judge Judy? Of course you, in your scrungy clothes and unstyled hair, know everything there is to know about fashion. Forgive me for not trusting the fashion sense of a lowly cochroach."
Jude shook his head while letting out a sigh, "I overheard you would like help to bring in your luggage." He then smiled, "I'm officially offering."
I just found my new servant. Time to put what Mother taught me to use, "Would you?" I turned and offered the Loser a helpless look while flashing a little bit of what makes me perfect. "They can be quite heavy." I finished by batting my eyes.
"Wow," Jude sarcastically responded as he shook his head. "Whatever."
It was the oddest reaction to a faux flirt I had ever seen. "What?"
"Nothing. Let's go get that luggage," Jude walked toward the garage.
I raced as much as I could in my heels to catch up with him. I tried to hide the slight irritation in my voice. "No, what was that about?"
Jude didn't stop. He took a half a second to find the one car he didn't recognize and walked toward my Porsche. As he pulled out the first suitcase, he finally spoke, "I know you are having a rough day, so I'll forgive your audacity in trying to manipulate me."
"I didn't..."
Jude cut me off with a look before starting the walk through the mansion. "I know it feels odd to come home to find your Father remarried after only four months from your Mom's passing, especially to a woman who is normal looking in every way, but that is what happened. They love each other deeply." He set down my luggage in the heart of my bedroom and, with a somewhat knowing smirk, he added, "I can promise you one thing above all else, your Father will do everything in his power to protect my Mom from any and all circumstances... even you."
Jude's speech felt like a lecture with a warning, stating everything like it was preordained fact. It annoyed me greatly, especially from a snot nosed kid. What did he know, anyway? What little the water helped, evaporated. I somehow believed him regarding my Father concerning his Mother, but that was only because of the stern threat and the reaction I already received to my cheek. Now, in my own room, on top of all the crazy I went through compounded with my failed flirtation, I boiled over.
"Shut up, Judy!" I screamed as it felt like steam was blasting from my ears. "This is MY room, MY house, and things run MY way. You think you know me or my Father, well you don't know shit! You'll see soon enough I'm right... Now get the fuck out of my room!"
"I understand your anger and frustration, and I'm sorry, I really am, but things happen for a reason."
"GET OUT!" I pointed as I stomped my foot.
