Her hand held a firm grip around the glass scotch. It was like the glass was a part of her and if she let it go, she'd lose a piece of herself. She took one long gulp and finished off the glass.
"Keep them coming, Joe", she spoke across the bar. The surly bartender poured some more of the brown liquid into her glass. She tilted it towards Joe and took a sip. As it hit her mouth, her lips curled and she swallowed. The glass was still clutched in her hand.
Veronica De La Cruze had spent every birthday at this bar since she was thirteen years old. Each year was no different. Veronica sat on the exact same stool, drank the exact same brown liquid and ordered from the exact same bartender year after year. One would think that Veronica De La Cruze's birthday party would be full of friends, sexy caterers and located at an exclusive Beverly Hills club. After all she was the 'It' girl. But that was not the case. Veronica's birthday was always just a party of one. Or two, if you count Joe the bartender.
Veronica's birthday didn't just signify her ageing. It also represented the anniversary of her mothers death. She died while giving birth to her all those years ago, and Veronica's been living with that grief ever since. Veronica's father, media tycoon, James De La Cruze had never once wanted to celebrate his daughter's birthday. Not once. There were no elaborate birthday parties for little Veronica. There weren't even birthday cakes. Nor any wrapped up gifts of the latest barbie dolls, waiting at the foot of Veronica's bed, ready to be opened up on her birthday morning. All she ever got was just a deposit into a savings account.
This caused Veronica to believe her father held her responsible for her mother's death. If it weren't for Veronica, James' beloved wife would still be alive. It was Veronica who killed her, James must have thought. And that was why James could never truly love Veronica.
