The Seven Day Gangster

Chapter 2

As I've mentioned earlier, my name is Arianna Houston. My friends call me Ari most of the time and Rihanna when they're trying to piss me off.

I honestly never get the chance to make a first impression anymore around here. Once people hear my last name, they associate it with my dad. I used to be just Arianna. But now, I'm the Houston girl with the super rich dad and a life set out for me.

My dad is head of one of the largest banks in Warton. Marcus Houston. Everyone who lives around here knows that name, or can associate it with Houston & Co, probably the largest firm here in banking and finances.

I hate economics; could never stand it. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that my dad was especially excited in hearing that I would be taking this course, I would drop it in a second. Less than a second, actually.

When my dad is not immersing his self in his own work or busy attending business conferences and meetings around the world, he does a pretty decent job as a dad.

He and I are really close. Most girls find themselves opening up to their moms about their social and educational lives. I guess the whole thought of telling a dad about some cute guy does not seem especially appealing or comfortable in the least sense. 

But my mom died five years ago from cancer, and because I was an only child, my dad was right beside me this whole time, both of us leaning on each other from the loss.

And I've never actually had that "uncomfortable" problem with Dad; he's never been really awkward about any of my past boyfriends. After the whole intimidation tactic he tries to pull upon first meeting a guy is over, (he likes to call it "fear mode"; it's extremely embarassing) he's a really friendly guy to be around.

My dad likes to think he's scary, when he first meets any of my guy friends. But honestly, he's a big dork at trying to sound all fatherly-intimidating-ish.

Once when my first boyfriend Gary came over, my dad tried to freak him out by playing the Schindler's List soundtrack on our obnoxiously loud stereo system which coincidentally connects to the rest of the house's speakers. I guess the people before us were big music junkies or something like that.

I didn't speak to him for like a week after that. (Well, more like a couple of hours. Honestly, it's hard to constantly ignore someone when you two are the only ones living together.)

In any case people have wondered why, if my dad is so grand and successful, we are living in downtown Warton, probably one of the unsafest cities for miles.

Almost 50 years ago my grandparents moved here, and bought this high-rise, almost palatial house in downtown Warton for a ridiculously cheap price. The economy was in somewhat of a recession, so prices were pretty low in concerns to real estate. The previous owner was desperate to get the house off his hand for whatever price he could get before its value plummeted even further. My grandpa quickly realized this and invested his savings into buying the house and signed a contract guaranteeing him this stable price in the future. When the recession was over, and inflation grew, the price of the houses around here skyrocketed, except for ours. The real estate agents who work around here have been trying to persuade my dad to move elsewhere and have offered him millions of dollars. My dad however, ever the frugal spender, decided that the current mortgage of our house was far lower than any payment we would have to give for future houses. So here we are.

It's not the safest place. But I know these streets really well, and I know where to walk through and what to do upon meeting any kind of danger.

My backpack is equipped with super strength pepper spray, an emergency device that calls the cops and alerts them of my location, a Swiss knife and a map of nearby police stations and transportation systems.