Gray Areas | Englot | GirlxGirl

30. Truth or Lap Dance

A/n: The song for the 'dance' is Primetime by Janelle Monáe ft. Miguel.

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POV ENGFA

Wealth. Social status. Public image. A long lineage of conglomerate blood.

That's all my mother has ever seemed to care about, her life orbiting those values as if nothing else mattered. And unfortunately, my whole extended family thinks exactly the same way.

Growing up, I was often left at my grandmother's estate in East Hampton-a sprawling, luxurious mansion passed down for generations. But then, when I was around four, something changed.

Out of nowhere, I suddenly had a younger sister. It was all a blur, really, and as I got older, I began to wonder how exactly my parents, who could barely be around for one child, managed to welcome another.

They were always traveling, working, and frankly, seemed too preoccupied with their own lives to handle the demands of one kid. I practically lived at my grandma's place.

And then-boom!-Snack was born.

Quite the surprise.

It's not that I don't love my sister; I absolutely do. But let's be honest-the situation is kind of absurd.

Snack's arrival didn't mean our parents stuck around any more often. Instead, they only seemed to get busier.

I didn't fully realize it until later, but my sister and I were basically raised by nannies. I mean, Snack had a nanny looking after her 24/7 from day one, just as I had. It was surreal, to say the least.

When I was around eight or nine, my sister and I finally left East Hampton and moved into an upscale townhouse on the Upper East Side. We've been there ever since... and, well, the rest is history.

But even then, our parents were still hardly there. Sometimes they'd take us on trips, sometimes just Snack would go. If I had to guess, they'd probably spend only two or three days a week in our house.

The rest of the time, they were off in Europe or Asia, South America, always busy, always away.

My dad, at least, tried. He'd call when he could, checking in, asking about us. And when he was home, he'd carve out time, maybe just a few hours, to spend with us, even inviting us to hang out in his office while he worked.

But my mom? A high-society socialite through and through, almost oblivious that she had kids. Such is life, I guess.

Honestly, I'm grateful for the luxury that came with this lifestyle, but there are things I just don't agree with, things that go against my very soul. The older I got, the more I realized that my family's principles didn't align with mine at all.

Snack... she almost fell into that mindset too when she was younger, teetering on the edge of becoming this spoiled, insufferable kid.

So I had to give her a reality check, knocking some sense into her with a pretty tough love argument, making her come back down to earth.

Even now, though, I still see hints of that "conglomerate" attitude in her. Like just recently, when she bought a Gulfstream G500 jet, a $45 million splurge.

She couldn't wait to flex by inviting me to fly back and forth from LA to New York with her on it. She was thrilled when I told her I'd be attending a Giorgio Armani fashion show in New York, practically lighting up as she asked me to cancel my first-class ticket and join her on her new private jet. So... very, very flexing.

It's not like I couldn't buy a jet myself. I could if I wanted to.

But I just haven't thought about it, honestly. I'd rather focus on property investments; it's probably the one thing I inherited from my mom.