I Gotta Kill the Prom Queen

Ch. 3 Making Aria

Tiffani drives like a drunk nascar racer. By the time we got to her house that first day we had hit three curbs, knocked over a trash can and made an old lady dive from the street into a nearby bush. My hands were cramped from holding on to the edge of the seat and my pumps had no doubt made a permanent dent in the floor from trying to telepathically apply the brakes.

When she finally came to stop I jumped out the car like a cat on fire. I resisted the urge to kneel down and kiss the cement, but it was there. Tiffani got out of the car and turned to the minions still sitting. "See that girls. Aria has enthusiasm. You sluts need to watch out or she's going to replacing you all."

The girls all tuned their heads in one synchronized motion like stepford wives. Each one giving me a sneering smirk.

"No worries girls. I don't want your jobs,  last in line is fine with me."

Tiffani grabbed my arm and swung me around. Her eyes cold slits that caused a bit of terror to crawl across my skin. "Listen up moron. You aren't here to make them happy. You're here to make me happy.  If I'm happy they're happy. That's how this works. Got it?"

The stepford girls sneers turned into happy puppy smiles. I rubbed the place on my arm where her nails had dug in and swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. "Got it" I squeaked.

The girls squealed happily and got out of the car. Tiffani snapped and Mindi grabbed Tiffani's D&G backpack and we made our way up to the porch.

I have to be super honest. I was holding my jaw shut here. I lived comfortably. My parents were both professionals. We had money, summered in the Hamptons like everyone else, but Tiffani's house was something else. It was the kind of house you see when you look at the tabloids and it disses Celebs for buying overpriced mansions after not paying taxes. Yeah, it was epic.

When we entered the house it was just as amazing. A huge chandelier hung above a winding staircase and Tiffani's portrait was painted and hung along the wall beside a portrait of an older woman who looked exactly like Tiffani when she was pissed off. Further up was a guy who looked like Mr. All American. It must have been her brother. He looked cute, but the kind of a guy you'd bet was named Tad that was truly an empty jockhead. And at the top was what had to be Tiffani's dad.

His portrait was dark and he looked like an old sea captain minus the patch. Even on the painting he looked old and weathered. If this was a happy memory painting of him I was damn sure I'd never want to run into him on a bad day. He was terrifying.

A woman greeted us as we entered the room with a tray in her hands. With broken English she spat out. "Hello Mrs. Tiffani. Welcome home." She held up a tray of glasses as but I noticed she didn't look Tiffani in the eyes. Like approaching a lion, she walked softly and kept her eyes towards the floor.

"Can it Marta. Your green card is safe. For now. Did you do what I asked you to do?"

Marta nodded. "Yes Mrs. Tiffani. It's all in your room. Would you like something to snack on?"

Tiffani walked past her without another word and started up the stairs. The rest of us followed. Marta stood in the doorway holding a tray of drinks that apparently no one but me wanted. I didn't dare grab one, or say thanks. I was out of my league and just here to observe. But it did look bubbly and delicious.

When I entered Tiffani's bedroom I felt
like I was being punk'd. It was lush. Shades of pink and silver with a flare that put a supermodel to shame.

Her bed was king sized with a mountain of pillows and a canopy made of jewels. I'm pretty sure they were fake but at this point I'm not ruling anything out. She walked right past a giant chair made to look like a high heel and through another door.

I, of course, followed. The minion girls collapsed on the bed. I'd yet to hear any of them speak or see one eat and I was beginning to wonder if Tiffani's father was an engineer who had made her a gang of robots to keep her happy.

Have you ever seen a video of a kid getting exactly what they wanted in a Christmas box? That look of pure joy that says nothing in their lives would ever top this moment? Yeah, that's the look I had. The doorway we walked through was Tffani's closet. Her closet that was the size of Walmart. Not that anything in there would have come from Walmart. This was high end merch. And it ran on a belt like a dry cleaners.

Why was I standing in her closet that made me feel like a Poly Pocket? Because Tiffani had rules.

I hold out my arms as ordered and she starts placing clothes in them. Armloads of clothes. I had no idea what was going on but I had to break the silence.

"Ummm. What's going on here?"

Tiffani tapped her perfectly polished nail on her movie star teeth making a clacking sound that bore down into my bones.

"Keep up Sasquatch. These are your uniforms. You think those three cabbages look like they do because they dress themselves? They are my frames. Their job is to look good and make me look amazing. I am the masterpiece. I don't get outshined. Got it?" As she spoke she continued loading me up with outfits all in brown cellophane wrappers with an 'A' on them. The racks rolled until we got to the shoes. She grabbed a Coach backpack and filled it with pumps and flats.

"Oh-kayyyy, what's the A for?"

She looked at me like I fell off a turnip truck covered in pig poop.

"Your name dweeb. Duh!"

At that point I realized I was over my head. I had to be Aria. It didn't matter that my name was Jenna, or that everyone I had ever known knew me as Jenna. I was Aria now. Point blank, no turning back. And I had my initials on the uniform bags to prove it.

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I know what you're saying, there's no way this happened. Especially in a day. But I'm telling you Tyler Oakley is not wrong. Grabbing your life by the horns (balls) can change your whole life. He just didn't say that the changes could lead you to murder. Next time Tyler, add the small print. You could have saved me so many feels. You know, the bad ones.