|What A Socialite Wants
Author: Chrissy Renee Pinto PM
For some odd reason, i was intrigued by clarissa! So this little ficet is dedicated to her!Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Humor - Words: 3,705 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 12-08-09 - Published: 04-17-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4202491
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
If you're expecting me to wait
Then I'll have to tell you straight!
I'm not the right girl for you!
I really want a man, not a boy who thinks he can
Now let go of my hand, just try to understaaannd!
I'm not the girl for you!
Don't even want to be too!
Like to keep my clothes on till tomorrow after noon!
Don't want to be your skank
Or anything remotely like that!
I'm not the girl for youuuu!
I finished with a flourish, taking a ladylike dip, "Thank you! Thank you!" I yelled at my audience, patiently awaiting my shower of roses. Then realization dawned on me as my eyes blinked open, they were all ignoring me! 'They are refusing to give me the recognition I deserved!' I thought hotly.
Anger coursed through my body in waves, tightening every muscle. With a frustrated growl, I stomped off the stage, my departure echoed behind me. I returned to the common dressing room and slammed the door shut. Lucky for me it was empty but in disarray and preposterously maintained. My nose wrinkled as a barrage of inhuman smells invaded my nostrils; a foul mixture of cheap perfumes, sweat and god only knows what else. I contemplated calling the health board to shut the place down but considered the problems that would arise-
A-I would have to admit to visiting such a place of squalor!
B-Take time out of my precious schedule to confirm that they did the job properly! Blasted Americans can be so unreliable-we have guard dogs at home that required less care and yet still got the job done!
C-I honestly didn't care if they rented the place as a manger!
I shoved my notebook into my designer bag which nestled comfortably on its own private high chair away from the others. I couldn't risk getting anything like germs or fleas on my Tommy Hilfiger original. As I turned to leave, my eyes caught a beautiful bag leaning against a mirror. I walked over to it and began to examine it more closely. It was a black leather bag but splashed with a mixture of reddish orange that gave a positive vibrancy to it.
"Like it!" a voice cut into my thoughts of admiration. I spun around to face a punk rocker! In case you are wondering-they are these—creatures should the operative word for them, that were all black even at night with shiny piercing all over their body-and I mean everywhere! Even worse sometimes their hair was decorated in the most horrendous colours like purple, vomit green and one time –a smashing display of everything -all of the colours of the rainbow! They looked like a bunch of prison bound carnies! Mother warned me about 'The Hippes' of New York but she probably had no idea that the situation had corroded so badly. I took two steps backwards wishing I had left when I had the chance, the only thing I had in my defence was a bottle of Chanel and there was no way I was going to waste it on the thing before me!She moved towards me, her eyes studying me with an intense expression and I felt my feet inching backwards on their own accord.
poo poo to infinity on toast was the only expression I could think to fully sum up the gravity of my position!
"I like your purse!" She commented casually. I stared at her-if I could call it a her-I really didn't know what was under that make up. "What!" I muttered stupidly, hardly believing that it could speak with the huge ring attached to her lower lip. "Thank you!" Stammered without the social graces except that a low-pedigree mutt.
"Were you looking at mine?" She moved past me to reach for her bag, barely brushing my sleeve as I cringed. I stared at the back of her shaved head, idly wondering where the triple sixes were placed. Then realizing she was waiting for an answer, I nodded. "Yes!" I responded hurriedly, my heart still thumping in my chest, "I especially like the red –flame things, it really adds its own dimension to the –uh-bag!"
Her bright pink eyes narrowed, giving me a strange look then let out a chuckle! Truthfully I felt insulted that she would even consider giving me such a look, did she not know who I was or did she spent her life in a cave or whatever humanity deprived place that gave her that hair style. "Actually it's more of a stain than a fashion statement! I spilled mustard and ketchup on the bag!" Sniggers sounding more like the snorts of a pig and a walrus left her enlarged, studded nostrils as if her little confession could fortify whatever imaginary relationship that she thought we had. I felt my cheeks grow hot with indignation and shame. I had half a mind to give her a telling off but decided against it-she would probably think I was coming on to her. Without a backward glance, I ran out of the room, clutching my purse tightly to my body.
The warm night air hit me in the face like a smothering blanket as burst out of the entrance. Breathing deeply, I walked with quick steps to my hotel. The street was bustling with activity and people of different kind –who liked to bump into me! I swear walking through the streets of New York was like trying to run through a- custard pie! I had lost count of the no of times my feet had been trampled on-like I had been counting in the first place-I had better things to do with my time!
"Sorry!" A faceless vagabond muttered as an elbow caught me in the stomach. Did I also mention in last couple of hours I have been repeatedly assaulted by every Tom, Dick and Harry with elbows. They are common American names and you can't get any more common or American than them!
'I should lodge a complaint –better yet I should sue! Yeah!" I toyed with idea in my head, feeling a smile dance across my lips 'You hear the stories about frivolous lawsuits all the time, it was like the latest fad in the USA , one instance is the ,man who sued McDonalds because the fast food made him obese , fast food is another trend that USA is famous for followed closely by obesity and reality television! I swear these people are simply barbarians , consorting in smelly , close packed spaces and munching food that is dripping with grease and fat and –and-cows! And there is nothing to be said abut their table manners-such conduct would be frowned upon in London-then again most of American lifestyle would be frowned upon –no wonder that little peasant felt so at home-I hope they are living happily ever after in their mansion which compared to my new home is beginning to look like a pumpkin, which it probably is-a pumpkin with rats!'
I grunted as my body was hit by another attack.
'This is simply unacceptable! I should sue the people of New York City for repeated assault with their elbows and feet. I might as well sue for a hefty compensation for the irreparable trauma they put me through! That will teach these commoners to have respect for royalty! Not that I actually need their ill gotten wealth from illegal wars –I have plenty of my own thank you!' I could barely suppress a scream as my feet were trampled on for the billionth time. On an impulse I darted the pointy end of my shoe into the nearest person beside me, initiating a small yelp.
I smirked, enjoying my little act of revenge and went on my way, weaving between the crowds. 'I hope the lesson is well learnt by that bloke. You cannot 'Step on my toes' so to speak and get away with it!'
Suddenly I felt my bag being yanked away from my hands by a powerful force, at first I thought I was imagining it-yeah like the large bird falling off the wall which later turned out to be my barbaric, future step sister but fortunately luck was on my side so I was spared that fate.
"What do you think you're doing?" I scream in anguish, clutching my bag close to my bosom. The people surrounding me received such a shock that they spread around us, watching like spectators. The woman stared at me startled; her blue eyes were wide and frightened. "I'm sorry dear!" She started but I cut her off. "Don't you sorry me you thief! I know you were trying to steal my bag!" Gripping said object tightly to my chest. "Sorry darling but I think you're mistaken! I'm an old woman; I could barely steal the salt shakers from a Chinese restaurant! I think my umbrella accidentally got caught on your bag-"
I sneered contemptuously; already an idea has formed in my head "Your old woman disguise doesn't fool me for one minute! You're a thief –pure and simple! Someone call the fuzz , this woman is trying to steal from me!" I yelled to the nearest passer by. He glanced at me with placating movements, "Calm down! She apologized-it was an accident –maybe-""I don't expect you people to understand!" I snubbed him; his face was already lost in my memory."You people! What do you mean by you people!" He questioned, indignation tightening his features.
"Oh, you know exactly what I mean! And don't you twist it around to make me out to be some sort of slave supporter-I'm on to you! I'm glad you're free and all because now the British can afford better and more practical service!"
"You're British !" a nameless man remarked from my left. I turned in his direction to reply, which was the worst thing I did that morning."Yes!" I retorted, "Can't you tell from my accent!"
"Uh,no I thought you were just high or -a transvestite!"A sinister growl escaped in one breath and gave him the full benefit my death glare until he held up his hands in surrender and melted into the crowd. I returned my attention to granny the cat burglar, all prissy righteous crossness."And you are coming to the police with me!" My hand darts forward and grabs her arm, glowering into her eyes.
Her old tired lines contorted into fright but I wasn't falling for that! "I'm just an old woman!" She protested, trying to retreat away from me.
I snort in disgust, "Then why aren't you in an old home chained to your bed or in a small cottage in the in the country like the rest of the elderly generation! Old woman my arse-that little disguise may fool most of the dim witted citizens of New York City but it won't fool me! Now, I know why they call it the big apple because there are so many worms like you eating up the core!"A collective, frenzied murmur arose from the crowd in response to my little announcement but I ignored them, I had bigger fish to fry !
With a firm yank, I drag her beside me intent on fulfilling my promise, what I didn't count was the heavy, ugly umbrella she had firmly in her grasp. The last thing I saw was the accurse thing coming towards me at the speed of light and then little flashy stars dotted the inside of my eyelids before darkness overwhelmed me like the sugary after-effects of creamy buns during tea.
I woke up to a dull, mind-numbing pain and a hazy environment. Then finally the fog cleared, the colours came into focus and the headache resided to a small ache somewhere out of the general vicinity of my mind. "This isn't my five star hotel!" I remarked out loud, straightening into a sitting position. Hell, it didn't look like any hotel or home for that matter! Appearance wise it was more of a storage space ladled with furniture than an actual living space.
Then it dawned on me, my flippant attitude was totally inappropriate, I considered screaming the next best option but then bit down on it and my tongue in the process-oh it smarted. Didn't want to alert any kidnappers of my awakening, the best thing for me would be to get out of this bed! It was really soft but horrendous with a mismatched pillow case and bed sheet that was grossly decorated with fur and every other color of the rainbow like neon red. It was nothing like those delicate, claret antique comforters comforted my bed. I felt a pang of something-was it jealously, anger or-sadness-I don't know why I should be sad, after all I'm married to Armistead Stuart, the 15th richest man in Britain and I'm 38th in line for the British throne what could possibly be wrong!
"You're awake, that's good!" A man walked into the room. "You don't look like a terrorist!" I blurted out, instantly feeling a blush drape my oval, pretty face. 'Clarissa, you ninny , You've made the terrorist angry!.'
" Sorry to disappoint you, should I go and come back wearing a hockey mask!" His tone was silky and easy going, complementing his loose swagger.
"No!" I muttered quickly, brushing off imaginary creases and privately contemplating his British accent. Was he like the loon Henry Dashwood; pretending to be a common peasant so he could get extra bacon with his eggs!"State your name and distinction, please!" I ordered, regaining my cool composure that I was so famous for and squaring my shoulders. "Ian Wallace at your service, and I'm just your average struggling musician!"
I did not at all appreciate the laxity by which he addressed me and I was about to inform him and put him in his place in the world when he silenced me with a shocking statement!
"Glad you're feeling better, Clarissa!" He commented a dry, wry twist of her mouth fell open with shocked disbelief, 'How did he know my name! Was I now so famous that my name was known among the common people too!' The thought filled me with pleasure though it aptly didn't show. "I was at the garden party where you danced with Daphne's father and –later married the guy she pushed in the water." A gleam across the surface of his cobalt eyes at the memory and a smile flitted across his lips.
As my mind replayed the events of that night, his face registered in the scene that was a huge travesty, pity not to Daphne-that wretched boor. "You're that little barbarian's boyfriend!" I shrieked. His handsome face was split by a wince before replying cagily, "Her name is Daphne and I would appreciate it if you didn't insult her while in my apartment!"
"In that case-I want out-preferably somewhere where I can insult the little snot-nosed, inbred, Yankee village tart!" voice pitching my distaste for my former step-sister, My legs dragged themselves from under the blanket and hit the floor. I jumped to my feet ,prepared for my dramatic exit from the rainbow house from hell, when I was hit by a wave of dizziness. I swayed back and forth, balancing dangerously on my expensive Swede shoes before tumbling backwards into the soft comforter. 'Stupid shoes-their simple function in life was to elevate my stature and provide me with an advantage over the rest of the lot but instead I was back where I started!'
"What!" I muttered, trying to break through the dense fog that clouded my senses and a strange numbness overtook my body. "She hit you on the head pretty hard!" He responded, walking to stand beside the bed. "Doctor said you were lucky you didn't get a concussion!" I barely heard him through the incessant dull ache that started in the back of my head. "How long will I have to live?" I murmured giddily, rubbing my forehead with my fingers, careful not to break a nail. He raised an eyebrow at me, "You're not dying!" He pointed out, a hint of amusement in his statement, relaxing on the chair which was a faded burgundy.
"I mean –how long will you let me live!" I asked my voice stronger, sounding almost like an accusation. Ian barely suppressed the chuckle that bubbled from the base of his throat. "You can stay here till-Daphne comes home and we'll call the hotel you're staying and ask them to send someone to pick you up."
My head nodded weakly on its own impulse as I let it fall back against the pillows, "So whose bed is this anyway." "It's Daphne's!" He answered, mouth curving into an impish grin. For a creepy moment I thought he was smiling at me but then I realized he was smiling at the bed. "What!" I snapped louder than I intended, my body squirmed slightly on the mattress which was sufficiently comfortable still distasteful and crawling with invisible insects. "Nothing!" He averted his eyes to the window, then stood up and shortened the distance between them.
A silence settled on the room which I was grateful for at the beginning, but then it began to affect me, gnaws at me from the inside. I was an interesting person and married to someone who was 38th in line for the throne. Surely the commoner would wonder what it was like unless he got the information from - "Did Daphne talk about me?"
Ian confirmed a slight tilt on his lips, a smile that seemed to be cheerful and carefree under the sun soaked window. "Everything I know, she told me while we were carrying you here." He admitted w, abandoning his station by the window to stand by the bed. His eyes a sultry, liquid blue locked onto my sceptical, almost antagonistic look. He had an aura of candidness that was –disconcerting.
"Given what she does know about me-why would she try to help me?" I prodded suspicion rising in me and luminous in my eyes. A thin smile appeared on his lips after he shocked me to my core, "Actually I convinced her to help Miss Belle Reve! Giving yourself the same name from the classic 'A Streetcar Named Desire!' quite surprised actually!"
"Hold on a minute, you've read the book!" I asked, forgetting to keep the awe and incredulity from my voice. For a second I feel as if I have suddenly materialized into my worst nightmare.A light chuckle descended from his lips, "Yes, and-""Quiet!" I quickly silenced any other mindless chatter unless I first received the answers, The picture was slowly forming in my head and I didn't like it."You've heard my performance!" a furrow of his brow made me wonder if he noticed the worry that swept across my face, a part of me hoped he would leave well enough alone.
"Yes and honestly, you're not that bad!" There is barely perceptible ring of surprise as he smiles encouragingly at me. I stare at him, unsure how to respond or if I should respond. "It wasn't me!" I contested in the most convincing voice I can muster and honestly even I have to admit I sounded lame. And eyebrow arches with an unspoken question as he studies me with an ambiguous expression on his face. "Yes, it was me!" I relented, exhaling a sigh that sounds tired even to my own ears, "but its not like I need the money or anything! If you have seen the 'King and I' it is an excuse to mingle with the commoners, to see what they are going through and such.." I trailed off, flinching under his dubious scrutiny that intensified with every word from my mouth.
"What are you worried about? Afraid your highness will disown you for singing at a club!" He queried, distinct wonder splashed across his face and statement, leaning over the railing. I turned away and glare at the lava lamp by the corner of the bed, watching the globules stretch, break up and move away. 'Why does that feel like my life?'
"Clarissa, everything is going to be okay? You can be yourself here!" I turned to find him sitting on the bed beside me, close enough perceive the kind creases of his face. If the promise turned out to be a farce, the humiliation would devour me alive. "I'm not sure. If I am myself here then who was I playing my entire life."
He leaned forward and touched my cheek in a comforting gesture, staring earnestly into my blue depths. A delicious, excited shiver descended my spine originating from the touch and gathered in the pit of my stomach, emotions I had never felt before.
A sudden impulse took hold of me and before I could comprehend my actions, I touched his lips with mine. A ripple of pleasure raced through my veins when he didn't draw back 'Maybe letting loose once in a while isn't so bad after all!'
"WHAT THE HELL!" Swiftly we broke apart and spared a joint flushed, guilty look before meeting the new-comers eyes, brimming over with horror and astonishment. Miss raggedy Anne in all her former glory stood before us, eyes shifting from Ian to me, her body visibly taunt for an explanation.
"Hello, Daphne!" I greeted her in a smooth tone underlaid with polite coolness, "I was just getting acquainted with your commoner, unemployed partner!" My focus was entirely on Daphne that I missed the full-moon look Ian gave me that wasn't very flattering or polite.