Bad Habits

chapter one: american money

Lilly is running late. Really fucking late.

After a thirty minute wait at a French bakery, she rushes across the wide expanse of Central Park, dodging pedestrians, bicyclists, and one incredibly pissed off German Shepherd. Her short brown hair is blowing in her face, but between the coffee and her work bag she's just going to have to deal with it. Lilly can feel her cheeks heating up, the warm spring sun peeking through budding trees along the pathway to Park Avenue.

Passing the Metropolitan Museum of Art, she looks up at the homes lining the busy street as she does every morning. Lilly has never wanted to live in a place like this, preferring the cozy nature of her apartment in Brooklyn, but it was hard to not at least admire the architecture.

Lilly's destination of 1010 5th Avenue is one that she's been coming to for as long as she can remember. It looks different than the mansion of Lilly's childhood however. Mrs. Barnes completely gutted the place two years ago when her husband passed away unexpectedly. Lilly always thought George Barnes was the only reason it had kept that Gilded Age charm and personally she liked it better before it was modernized. It broke her heart when they took out the fountain she loved so much.

The doorman lets Lilly in with a wave, handing her two packages to take along for the short elevator ride to the second floor. Lilly uses the trip up to catch her breath, wiping the perspiration on her brow with the edge of her sleeve. She checks her watch. Fifteen minutes late for the first time in the six months since she took this job.

The elevator dings, opening o a foyer, which Lilly passes through into a large gallery and living space. The clicking of heels announces the arrival of her employer, Winifred.

"Good morning, Lillian!"

Her pleasant, airy voice echoes off the marble tiles. Lilly resists the urge to roll her eyes. Winifred is the only person to call her by her full name and it drives her insane.

Mrs. Barnes looks immaculate, not a dark brown hair out of place on her head. Lilly thinks that she must be going out for brunch, based on the white jumpsuit she's wearing that probably costs more than Lilly's rent. Her blue eyes sparkle a little as she approaches Lilly, kissing her on the cheek and relieving her of the packages. Yeah, my eyes would look like that too if I were on that many medications.

"Hi, Mrs. Barnes. Is Becca up yet?"

The older woman rolls her eyes.

"Of course not. That girl wouldn't get out of bed before nine in the morning unless there was a fire and even then I doubt it. You can head on in, dear. I'll be leaving for the Carlyle soon so if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Ha, I knew it.

Lilly walks through the expansive kitchen as Mrs. Barnes wanders off. She grabs toast and jam from the counter, placed there by the family's cook, or as they all call her, Aunt May. Lilly wonders if her nephew Peter is around here somewhere, or in class in Midtown. Lilly likes to hang out with him, a bit of normal in this madness. He tutors Becca when she misses class, which is often.

She reaches two large gilded doors and opens them, entering a bedroom enveloped in darkness. Almost on autopilot, Lilly crosses to the bay windows overlooking and throws open the curtains. The room is filled with blinding sunshine, falling directly onto a bed full of pillows and a goose down comforter. A few wisps of golden brown hair peek from the top.

"Morning, Becca!" Lilly shouts, a lot louder than necessary. A groan comes from beneath the sheets.

"Lil, I think I'm dying."

Becca emerges from the comforter, blue eyes illuminated by the golden glow of spring sunshine. She brushes hair from her face and sits up.

"You're not dying, you're hungover. We've been over this."