Guilty Pleasures

Chapter 3: Layo's Taco Truck

No, this isn't happening. My lovely Simon would never cheat on me. Ever. Who would cheat on me, right? Simon is so great, so great. He'd never do this. And don't go telling me that I'm in "denial". Denial is not a thing. No. No. No. Never. Simon wouldn't do this. Paisley wouldn't do this. Regular people are cheaters, not my Simon. Not that Paisley girl. I just need to go to the mall. That will fix all my problems. Where's Lucilla?

As I previously said, I love the mall. And money. And Daddy's job. That makes me money. Anyway, I love all the mall, except the food court. Ah, the food court. The room full of disgusting filth that regular people call food. Where regular people sit around, spreading their diseases while unhinging their jaws to stuff in a "Whopper Burger". Disgusting.

As much as I do love the mall, I always have to prepare myself for the hoard of obese people wearing "Honey Boo Boo" shirts on the way there. Did you know that they actually let poor people in the mall? It's revolting. It's sickening. It's...most of the U.S. population.

Every time I go shopping, I always have to wear sunglasses and a hat. If I don't, the paparazzi will just swarm around me, clicking their cameras in my face. I mean, it's never happened, but that's what I assume would happen. I can't help it that people love me so much.

I'm so glad that the town car windows are tinted. I can see everyone, but they can't see me. I don't want unwanted stares while I'm in the car. I already get stared at enough during the day, I don't need anymore. I'm not saying I don't appreciate the attention, I'm just saying that some people think I'm just too beautiful, which I probably am.

As I'm walking into Prophecy Square (what our mall is called), I smell something foul. What on Earth could have the stench of spoiled milk mixed with a dirty cattle slaughterhouse? I look to my right where the odor is coming from. Of course. That's what smells so devastatingly horrible. Layo's Taco Truck. The "food" truck that isn't licensed to be on the property, but comes anyway. The owner is named Alayna, but she insists that everyone call her Layo. I think that's repulsive, because who would give up such a pretty name like that? Not as pretty as my name, but still nice.

"Lucilla?" I call. "Come and shield me as I walk. I'm going over..." I pause to think of a word that describes that hole of rotting flesh. "To there," I finish my sentence and shakily point to the rusty can of a truck that Layo sells out of.

We start to walk over to the truck, Lucilla guarding me by holding an open umbrella in front of her. We're almost to the order window when I see something that makes me stop in my tracks. Simon. With Paisley. "Lucilla, stop," I whisper. I drag her behind a bush, and tell her to stay there. I don't want Simon seeing me with my driver, that's unheard of. I take a deep breath and step towards Simon and Paisley, who are holding hands. I knew it.

Simon sees me and drops Paisley's hand, eyes wide. Paisley just stares at me. "Daisy!" Simon yells, obviously nervous. "What are you doing here? I thought you hated this place." He lets a tense chuckle out.

"How could you do this to me?!" I scream. I tried to stay calm, but it just didn't work. He's a jerk who needs a taste of his own medicine (which is his pharmacy prescription of Amoxicillin). But also revenge. Lots of revenge.

"Look, babe, I'm sorry! I just-" I cut him off with my hand.

"Don't call me babe. We're through." I take off one of my designer gloves and slap him with it, then dust it off, put it back on and turn towards Paisley. "As for you, we will not be seeing you at our lunch table anymore. And I'm deleting you from my contacts." I turn away, my hair dramatically flipping as I do. "Let's go Lucilla," I say coldly. Then we walk away.

All that, and I didn't even get to go shopping.