Ruthless riches

Money money money

When you grow up poor, moneys all that matters. How to save it, how to spend it, how to get it. It's the same when you're rich. People say it isn't, but it feels the same. 

I skirt my car around the corner- a cute forest green Mercedes Benz SL. Cost me a little faint when I paid for it but was so worth it. I check the road and listen in the my phones speaker, hearing my best friend natter on about what 'really matters'. 

"Look, all I'm saying is take a day off- go on holiday for goodness sakes. Just get away from work!" Alfie shouts down the phone and I sigh. He's been nagging me the past few days to take a well earned break, but I just can't. 

"There's a reason why I'm labelled a workaholic, Alfie. I didn't come all this way without working." I say, and drive slowly along the country roads. "Besides, I'm having a small trip now- going to this little gala, aren't I?" I hear Alfie continuing to huff and puff down the phone but I ignore him. There's no need for me to stop working. I only have him and me, and I see him all the time. There's no reason for me to take a break. 

The little gala that I've avoided as a topic is not little. It's over 1000 rich people gathered into a rich persons house to do rich people things. Not my kinda things, but it will make very good connections. I spy another car classy enough in front of me and I figure that I'm heading in the right direction. I follow them and call down to my phone "Bye Alfonzo. Siri, hang up." 

The car in front leads me to a massive house, or rather a mansion, with big marble pillars towering over us and a drive full of other fancy cars. I turn to the left and park in one of the last empty spots, before glancing out. There's too many people fluttering around, each and every one of them dressed elegantly and beautifully in designer. 1,2,3....... 34 in the first ten seconds of me being here are wearing my designs, and I let a small smile appear on my face as I swing the car door open. 

I try not to fiddle with my dress as a few faces turn to stare at me; I'm new here, so I'm the odd one out. I push my head up and tell myself I belong- I'm wearing a Dior dress, for gods sake. Of course I fit in. It's Dior look 40 from the 2018 fall/winter collection, and caught my eye a while ago, so I bought it for today. 

I brush my hair gently over my shoulder and smile. I must be elegant and poised, I tell myself, and strut towards the mansion doors. There are guards at the gates, whom I simply smile to and wave my ticket around, earning a tight nod. I tell myself again that I belong before I start to walk up the stairs, towards the entrance of the house. 

The house itself is beautiful, with vines up the side and statues scattered across the grounds. The owners themselves are not. "Mr. Barlow!" I smile, giving the man a kiss on either cheek. He reeks of dying flowers, like an expired perfume. He looks as if he is permanently sucking on a lemon.  "Mrs. Barlow!" I kiss her cheeks too. She reminds me of an evil ballet teacher, from her slick back bun to her haughty expression. "It's a pleasure to have you, Designer... um.." She sneaks a look to my name on my ticket. "Designer Maia Carro!" She smiles with yellowing teeth and flicks me away with a wave of her hand. I ignore her dismissal- the design on most of my clothes is MC for my initials, and my name is in the top charts of the fashion industry. Unfortunately, judging off Mrs.Barlows floral dress, I suppose she isn't the type who knows much about fashion at all. 

I step down and into the houses front hall that leads into what seems to be a ballroom filled with people all ages, with only one thing in common. Money. I spend the next half and hour chatting to all the designers and models, a few of which now want to collaborate. It leaves me with a smile on my face- perhaps this gala wasn't too torturous. It hits 6:30 pm, and I realise I haven't eaten since 7am. I head over to the table with a spread out buffet that looks a mile long and start digging into the fruit and drinks, gulping down a flute of some fizzing alcohol that tastes a bit like raspberries. I eat just enough to not have a rumbling stomach, and promise myself I'll eat more when I get home. 

I'm just about to head back over to the nice old man I was chatting to (I think he may be a filthy rich man, with money from nothing good. I can tell from the suit, it gives it all away) when I see a pink blur run towards me at top level speeds, and a small child, perhaps age three, grabs my dress and shoves herself under my skirt. Before I can leap away or call out, an exasperated woman runs towards me calling out "Lulu? LULU?" Heads turn our way as the  woman's voice gets louder and louder, and she squats to look under the table, trying to find the child who's still in between my legs. I take a deep breath and open my mouth, but feel a sharp pinch, and a small voice say "no!" 

I purse my lips. This is one spoilt child. "How about I take you outside this room and you come out, okay?" I whisper, and hear a faint yes from in between the layers of my dress. I awkwardly wobble to the rooms exit and scoot round the corner, bringing the child to under the stairs before pulling my skirts up, revealing a guilty looking little girl, her hair in little buns, her big eyes gazing up at me, thumb in her mouth. 

"Lulu?" I say hesitatingly, and she shakes her head. "Luella. I'm not a Loooloo." She giggles, and I sit down so I can look into her eyes. "Luella. Don't you want to go to your mummy?" I say, smiling, but still she shakes her head. "I don't have a mummy." She states, and I nod. Was that her dad's girlfriend or something, I wonder. 

"Well, Luella. Can we get you back to your parent, perhaps?" I say, and the girl looks at the floor. "But.. I just want a hug?" She wraps her small arms around me, and I take her into my lap, stroking her head. She reminds me of my little sister, and just for a moment, as her arms tangle with mine, I think of how different my life would be if my family hadn't died. 

The thought only lasts for a moment, however, and I let the hug comfort me. How odd, I think, that this weird little girl can comfort me more than working my ass off ever did. The comfort only lasts for a monetarily, however, as a large shadow falls over me and Luella. 

"Why the hell are you touching my daughter?" 

Authors note: That's the first chapter done, be sure to vote and comment so I know to continue to write, hope you like it and leave any ideas below <33