the ten commandments of being rich and fabulous

Prologue

“I know you did it,” the words spilled out of Mary Louise Hamilton’s mouth like water from a leaky faucet. A pleasant- looking blonde with curly Orphan Anne hair and big blue eyes, sat across Jackie Marline. Her eyes were accusing and something trembled at the edge of her lips. She seemed to speak but in the little bottle the two women were in nothing seemed to move, nothing made a sound.

The rain outside trickled down the windows and playfully bounced off the green Mercedes Benz outside of the restaurant. Jackie Marline wished to death that she would be the one stepping into the car, instead of Mary Louise. Once again, life proved to be an unfair omen to Jackie Marline. She would be the one hauling a taxi in the freezing rain, instead of stepping into a comfortable butter brown leather cushion. Her heart slowly sank. She could feel it drowning in itself.

Mary Louise had a wicked smile on her face, her lips were puckered and her blue eyes narrowed. They narrowed so much that it seemed her eyelashes were going to devour her cheeks. Mary L was not only rich but insanely beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that it hurt to look at her too long. Jackie Marline shook with jealousy as she looked upon the angelic face. The shaking started at the sole of feet and before she knew it, it climbed up her bones and rattled her small frame. Mary Louise Hamilton was a witch. She knew how to control you with one glance. Just one!

“Now,” Mary Louise sat back in her chair. She crossed her arms and uncrossed her legs. Her puckered, pink lips were now set to a small smile. “Now. Now. Now.” She spread her arms out like an eagle, ready to fly. No one in the restaurant looked at her because she was Mary Louise, and it was the 1960’s.

Jackie’s body shook.

“Jackie. Jackie. Jackie Marline Wincher-Abbott.” The slow and deliberate pronunciation of her name made Jackie shake harder. “Jackie Marline,” at that Mary Louise leaned on the palm of her hands, carefully placing her elbow on the table. “Tell me something. Tell me something that I want to know. Please, darling, tell me what you did.” Mary L sighed slowly, her mouth a small O. “I know what you did but I would like you to explain it to me. Slowly, dear. Very slow.”

A small black woman in a tight maids dress walked up to them. Her short hair was tied up in a low bun and her dark eyes were wells of nothingness. They were empty and frightening. Years of racial humiliation had done this to her. It had made her eyes pools on nothing. The woman stared at Mary Louise and expression on her face that only meant confusion. Jackie Marline snorted and the woman turned to her.

“Ma’am, what would you want, Ma’am.” Her eyes glazed over as if she was ready to catch only snippets of Jackie’s order. Little snippets of nothing, like her eyes. Nothing.

Mary Louise snorted but her snort was filled with a wicked need to humiliate. “Oh, please. Please, don’t call her ma’am. She’s not a ma’am. She’s worse than dirt. She’s worse than a n****r.” Mary L glanced up at the woman; her big eyes were filled with forced innocence. But the innocence looked so well on Mary Louise Hamilton that it seemed genuine. “She’s worse than you.” Jackie would have gasped like any other women would have, but she kept silent. Mary Louise would have silenced her anyway.

The black woman was silent, too. She looked at Mary L for a long time and then without hesitation repeated her question. “Ma’am, what would you want?” The black woman’s eyes were filled with pleading. Jackie felt bad. She wasn’t a south-loving, confederate loony, racist brat like Mary Louise. No. She was better than that. But she kept silent.

The black woman was shooed away.

Now, Mary L’s attention was on Jackie Marline again. Jackie was silent for a long time. So long that time seemed to stretch and expand in so many directions, that Jackie felt her head compressing. Then, like a fire work it burst out of her oddly shaped mouth (rather big for a girl of such refined features). “You know nothing, Mary Louise Hamilton. You know nothing at all!”

Mary Louise eyes twinkled and without a word she stood. Her gaze was on Jackie’s head. Mary stood there for what seemed like hours before she smiled that slow, shivery smile of hers and left.







Mary Louise Hamilton had an advantage. As she sat in her father’s Mercedes Benz and wrestled around with the button of her pea coat, she wondered merrily if Jackie Marline would take her unsaid threats seriously. Jackie Marline was, and would always be a nobody, gold-digging, wrench of a girl. She did not fit in with the class and dignity of the Upper East Side. And Mary Louise would make sure that the little fact was known across the city. Her city. The city she had helped take over. Well, not necessarily take over but what did it matter, Mary Louise Hamilton was still one of the most respected women on the island. So, what did it matter?

Mary Louise watched the landscape rush by as the driver ascended a small hill. She winced when the car bumped and jumped, rocking her violently from side to side. Normally, she would have yelled and screamed and told him to stop. Not today, though. Today, she was in wonderfully giddy mood. The car stopped in front of a double door, horribly squat, town house. The place was dull and lifeless from the front. Mary could only imagine how unfashionable the inter looked.

A man stepped out from the house, lean and god-like, with dark hair and darker green eyes. Mary let out a moan of excitement. His eyes gazed at the car, slowly. They took everything in with great admiration. Without any thought, he moved forward, his white undershirt sticking against his skin and showcasing his perfectly chiseled body.

A thrill crawled down Mary Louise’s spin and expanded in her intimate parts. She leaned into the window, her face squashed into a hideous scowl. The boy –no- the man, looked at her through the mirror, though the windows were tinted and he really couldn’t see anything, Mary felt him. She felt his gaze penetrating her body. She wanted him to invade her. Was this love at first sight? Lust? Love?

The driver slammed the door and Mary was gripped out of her thoughts. She pressed her chest against the window and peered out. There was a moment of gruff, yelling. Mary Louise pressed her ear against the window.

Silence.

The outside noise was muted by the thick windows. She refused to roll down the windows. Her fear of getting accused on listening in to the Works conversation was bigger than her sudden love for…the man. The door was yanked open and in came the driver. Than man outside leaned against a light pool grinning and blowing kisses at her window. Tease. He was a tease.

“Sowy, ‘bout dat, Ma’am Hamilton. Ma son gots himself into somes trouble.” Her driver was clever at times, but was downright stupid most of it. Mary Louise rolled her eyes. Her heart beat loudly, so loud she covered her ears. The driver took this as a sign to shut his trap and rolled the car forward.

I can't see that.

there. i fixed it.

Chapter One

The wind rushed towards Lola Fitzgerald and almost knocked her off her stiletto clad feet. She grimaced and pulled down the hoodie of her Milwaukie Hawks pullover. The water fell like bullets, hitting Lola’s face with stinging precision. Her olive skin shivered violently under the cold drops. The shivering set off a chain of events, ending with a nauseating feeling of emptiness. Lola was hungry. She had been hungry for two days now.

Soon, her heart would give out under the pressure of starvation and she would be another tragedy. Lola skipped down the street, none too happy. Her heart beat in sync with the falling of the rain. Her stomach grumbled greedily as she walked past an abandoned McDonald’s. If it were open she would probably contour up a plan to steal herself a meal.

The Upper West Side buzzed with the type of life that Lola craved. She watched as a pair of men walked hand in hand into, what could only be a gay club. Her eyes narrowed and suddenly she wished that her life was better than walking listlessly through the streets, wet as a rat and hungry as a homeless dog.

The day had been gray and gotten gray. Lola seemed unusually out of place against the depressing background, her angelic looks and sharp, fox-like features. It was strange to some of the passersby that someone so beautiful seemed so lost and out of place. They stared into her face and tried to look into her soul through her large brown eyes. Nothing was to be found by hunger and a lone trace of anger. But the anger was so undermined by hunger that most couldn’t detect it.

Barry Wilson and his lady companion were the first to realize something was terribly wrong with this fallen angel. They -- Barry – noted the want in her eyes and backed away slowly. A man of forty-one shouldn’t be getting too involved with the beautiful and poor. It was too dangerous. A girl like Lola could ruin him. His lady companion whistled, softly. She looked at the girl for a long period before, scoffing and walking away. Her head held a little higher than usual. The lady companion might have said something along the lines of, “Dirty little poor girl” or maybe “Disgusting little gold digger.” But how exactly would she know? Her jealousy was taking its part.

Barry who had stood aside, staring at Lola intently, jumped away when she turned to look at him. Her expression brightening and instantly she knew what was happening. The man wanted sex, he was rich, and she was ready to give it. But Barry glared at her and walked away. Lola felt her face flush and before turning away, noticed the woman that had been with her holding up her hand. A yellow taxi stood still and speed off when they climbed in.

The ring on the woman’s finger was huge.

Lola carried herself around the Upper West Side until she came upon Amsterdam Avenue. She leaned onto a wall, rubbed her thigh against the brick of Barney’s Greengrass. Her mouth watered at the sight of men and women and entire families, walking out the deli with wrapped meals. She grimaced. Lola could try to get herself a snippet of lettuce or a cut of meat. Her mouth watered. She pushed herself off the wall.

Barney’s Greengrass’ lights temporarily blinded her as she walked in. She squinted her eyes against the harsh florescent. A cough asked her lips and she could feel the welcoming warmth of the restaurant urging her to sit down and order something big and hardy. It was a shame she’d have to bum the food. She wouldn’t stay after getting her small share. People had a way of changing there minds.

The restaurant was small and square with a deli counter tucked neatly at the corner. It had simple square tables with sticky, plastic table cloths covering them and cracked red, vinyl chairs. Lola pulled a chair aside and sat down. She laid her head on the table and began to breathe heavily. She moaned and held her stomach. The stares on her back were evident, they burned her. Lola stood up, suddenly, and walked over to the counter. The story she would tell was freshly set in her mind and she refused to think too much into it because if she did, she’d chicken out.

The man at the counter was young, twenty-one at the most. He had shoulder-length black hair, tied at the nape of his neck and penetrating green eyes. The trendy, square, black glasses on his nose slid slowly down the slope. He pushed them up as she leaned against the counter. Lola’s smile was big and fake.

“Hey. Hey.” Her gesture was a sign of friendship. No, not really friendship but an alliance of sorts. This was easier considering the guy was sexy and Lola always had her way with sexy men. She placed her hand on his wrist and twirled the Italian flag bracelet around her index finger. “Look. I want a…” She looked up and the menu board and stuck out her tongue slightly. Lola licked her lips slowly, feeling his shiver. “I want the daily special.” She gazed up at him with her sultry brown eyes.

“No.”

The word smacked Lola across the face. She glanced at him and then back at the menu board a bit dazed. Had he said no to her? She snatched her hand back, popping the bracelet in the process. This didn’t faze the man; he just stood there, towering above her, glaring. Lola folded her arms across her chest, suddenly uncomfortable. He wasn’t glaring at her. He was glaring through her.

Lola’s lower lip stuck out slightly. She wanted to stomp her feet and whine that she was starving. Something in her clicked and she knew, knew very well, that no matter what she did, he would refuse to feed her.

my writing is crap

I don't know what's going on, but it's good so far. You've improved.

lol. thanks. the funny thing is, i don't know what's going on either. ...