Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SEVEN
off the deep end
•·················•·················•
IF THERE WAS one thing I knew for sure, it was that Rosie Peppler loved to flaunt her money. In fact, she craved it.
When presented with an opportunity to take her ten pound American Express card and swipe it across your face, she was already on it. She carried her wealth in her haughty demeanor and mean words.
After all, she knew no better.
Rosie was a product of the fashion industry, an only child adopted for the purpose of keeping Randy Peppler's name alive.
In honor of the recent addition of a "small" yacht to the long list of Peppler properties, her father decided to plan a party.
And because her father only moved with the best of the best, the gala would only have the most talked about names in the fashion industry in attendance.
This was one of the few times in which I was grateful for my association with Rosie, even though our relationship was less than friendly at times. I'd met her father so many times that even if she were to "forget" to invite me, he'd make sure I got there.
After raving about it for weeks and weeks until I wanted to knock her teeth out, the day of the party was finally here.
And she was driving us all nuts.
Maybe it was because she was being deprived of sex since the great handjob fiasco a few weeks ago, or maybe it was due to the fact that she was just a neurotic person all in all.
Whatever the reason, she called me six separate times to discuss my outfit and how I should conduct myself to her guests.
As if my mother wasn't already drilling it into my head that it would be a party with very important people and Sienna Ellis Jackson you better not tarnish the family name.
My mother herself had been worrying over what to wear for the past few days. Knowing her, whatever she chose would be nothing less than breathtaking and bank-breaking.
Even my father had bought him and Tristan new Armani suits for the occasion.
I had to be at Rosie's in two hours to get my hair and makeup done by her other father's makeup artists.
It was that serious.
I didn't particularly mind getting dolled up-if there was an opportunity to feel like gold for free, I was up for it.
"Sienna, are you sure you aren't forgetting anything?"
My mother hurried about, rushing from room to room.
