Girlfriend for Hire

Chapter Four: When Roses Wither

Raven 

The kitchen buzzed with warmth and comfort, the air thick with the scent of fresh coffee and the sizzle of poached eggs. MKTO's "Classic" played through my earbuds, the upbeat tune pushing me through the motions of my morning routine. As I descended the stairs, I felt my hair, styled perfectly, flow down my back like a waterfall of midnight silk. My makeup was subtle yet striking, and my pink and blue ensemble, with a hint of plaid. My mom had designed this ensemble herself, and I wore it with pride, every stitch a testament to her talent.

"Good morning, sweetheart," my mom, Leila Sinclair, greeted me with a smile. She was effortlessly elegant, moving around the kitchen with the grace of someone who belonged on a runway rather than in a suburban kitchen. The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow on the polished countertops and the breakfast spread: poached eggs on avocado toast and a vibrant smoothie.

"Morning, Mom," I replied, sliding onto a stool at the island. I reached for a piece of toast, feeling the crispy bread warm against my fingers.

Richard, my stepdad, sat at the table with the morning paper, his detective badge glinting beside his coffee cup. His gruff exterior softened as he looked up and nodded. "You're up early, Ray," he remarked.

"Got a lot on my mind," I said, biting into my toast, the crunch a satisfying contrast to the smooth avocado.

"You okay, Raven?" my mom asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Mom," I said, forcing a smile. "Just school stuff."

Sophie, my seven-year-old sister, was already seated, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "Raven, you look like a princess!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.

"Thanks, Soph," I replied, ruffling her hair. "Tell you what, when I get home, I'll do your makeup."

"You will do no such thing," Mom interjected, her tone firm but amused.

"She's gotta start learning at some point," I said, winking at Sophie, who giggled.

"She's seven, Raven. She's got a long way to go before she needs to learn how to do makeup," Mom said, shaking her head with a smile. " She can barely paint for her class let alone her face."

I finished my breakfast, savoring the last bit of my smoothie. The kitchen, with its warm wooden cabinets and the family photos adorning the fridge, felt like a safe haven, a place where I could momentarily forget the turmoil of high school.

"Don't forget to pick up those fabrics from Maison's and drop them off at my studio during your lunch break,"

Mom reminded me as she handed me my lunch.

"Got it, Mom," I said, grabbing my keys off the hook by the door.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Richard asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem a bit off."

I plastered on another smile. "I'm fine, really. Got a lot on my mind, that's all."

Sophie tugged at my sleeve. "Promise you'll do my makeup later?"

"Promise," I said, kissing her on the forehead. "Be good, squirt."

"I will," Sophie promised, beaming up at me.

"Later, guys," I called out, heading for the door. The Sinclair family's chorus of goodbyes followed me as I stepped outside.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I took a deep breath, the scent of leather and the faint hint of my perfume grounding me. As I drove off to school, MKTO's "Classic" still played in my head: