About five years ago, Manhattan New York
"What in god's name were you thinking, Christine!?"
Clarisse Sousen pitched a magazine at her nineteen year old daughter, who was lounging sprawled out on a couch, glued to her cellphone. Christine didn't even have to look at what she'd been hit with to know it was the latest issue of Vogue that was due to hit the news stands the next day. She smiled like the cat that ate the canary.
"You don't like my cover" I thought it came out great," she said as she rolled from her belly to her back, swinging her legs around so her feet touched the floor. She plucked the magazine off the couch where it had landed so that she could take a nice, long look at the glossy cover.
There she was. All of her from just bellow the navel with her long auburn hair in a riot of curls artfully arranged across her chest so her bare breasts were covered just enough to be appropriate for print media, her arms spread wide open. "You know I'm not actually naked, right?"
Splashes of bright text announcing that month's articles ruined the illusion, she thought. Exposed: Hotel Heiress Christine Sousen Tells All partially blocked out her torso. Christine squinted at the spot. "They didn't even photoshop me skinnier," she complained.
Crack.
Her hand flew to her face, the shock of being slapped so hard sending her reeling back into the plush cushions of the couch.
"You ungrateful brat," her mother spat. "You go behind my back and do this interview, you promise me that it is tasteful. You disrespect me, you disrespect the family."
Still rubbing her cheek, Christine slowly sat up. "I didn't say anything about the family. It's all about me!"
Clarisse snatched the magazine out of her daughter's hands and thumbed through to the article. "You call living in this household 'Like living in a gilded cage—pretty confinement'. Being sent to the best schools money can afford tantamount to being sent to prison camps. And you talk about that man." Her words dripped with poison by those last words.
Christine rose from the couch to cross to the mirror on her wall. "All of that is how I truly feel, mother." She spat back. "And you love Brad."
Her mother barked out a laugh. "You" Are too spoiled to know how to feel." She waved a hand, pointing around the spacious room, one of three Christine had on her side of the penthouse. It was a cluttered mess of designer clothing, shoes, make-up, more. "And that man is fifteen years your senior, Christine. It is obscene."
"Why, because he's not old money like daddy was" Or oops, am I not supposed to talk about that either?"
It was a good thing she was out of arms reach or her other cheek would have been spotting a matching bruise.
"That's enough." Her mother's voice was deathly quiet. "I'm calling your grandfather. You can go and stay with him until you learn to grow up." She turned to exit the room, pausing in the door frame to say over her shoulder: "I already cancelled your credit cards."
Christine glared after her, anger burning in the pit of her belly. She'd show her.
"What in god's name were you thinking, Christine!?"
Clarisse Sousen pitched a magazine at her nineteen year old daughter, who was lounging sprawled out on a couch, glued to her cellphone. Christine didn't even have to look at what she'd been hit with to know it was the latest issue of Vogue that was due to hit the news stands the next day. She smiled like the cat that ate the canary.
"You don't like my cover" I thought it came out great," she said as she rolled from her belly to her back, swinging her legs around so her feet touched the floor. She plucked the magazine off the couch where it had landed so that she could take a nice, long look at the glossy cover.
There she was. All of her from just bellow the navel with her long auburn hair in a riot of curls artfully arranged across her chest so her bare breasts were covered just enough to be appropriate for print media, her arms spread wide open. "You know I'm not actually naked, right?"
Splashes of bright text announcing that month's articles ruined the illusion, she thought. Exposed: Hotel Heiress Christine Sousen Tells All partially blocked out her torso. Christine squinted at the spot. "They didn't even photoshop me skinnier," she complained.
Crack.
Her hand flew to her face, the shock of being slapped so hard sending her reeling back into the plush cushions of the couch.
"You ungrateful brat," her mother spat. "You go behind my back and do this interview, you promise me that it is tasteful. You disrespect me, you disrespect the family."
Still rubbing her cheek, Christine slowly sat up. "I didn't say anything about the family. It's all about me!"
Clarisse snatched the magazine out of her daughter's hands and thumbed through to the article. "You call living in this household 'Like living in a gilded cage—pretty confinement'. Being sent to the best schools money can afford tantamount to being sent to prison camps. And you talk about that man." Her words dripped with poison by those last words.
Christine rose from the couch to cross to the mirror on her wall. "All of that is how I truly feel, mother." She spat back. "And you love Brad."
Her mother barked out a laugh. "You" Are too spoiled to know how to feel." She waved a hand, pointing around the spacious room, one of three Christine had on her side of the penthouse. It was a cluttered mess of designer clothing, shoes, make-up, more. "And that man is fifteen years your senior, Christine. It is obscene."
"Why, because he's not old money like daddy was" Or oops, am I not supposed to talk about that either?"
It was a good thing she was out of arms reach or her other cheek would have been spotting a matching bruise.
"That's enough." Her mother's voice was deathly quiet. "I'm calling your grandfather. You can go and stay with him until you learn to grow up." She turned to exit the room, pausing in the door frame to say over her shoulder: "I already cancelled your credit cards."
Christine glared after her, anger burning in the pit of her belly. She'd show her.