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    Just The Girl 2.0 – Chapter Twenty Five, Prologue

    Story written on June 5, 2010 by Alchemy10.
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    Number of Comments: 1
    Words: 9446
    Story Shortlink: https://mail.assertive-maroon-jellyfish.104-250-143-187.cpanel.site/?p=75737
    Author Notes:

    A sit-down with Vanity Fair..

     

    I was a little lost in my own world when the tiny bell by the entrance starts to ring. Someone had just arrived. A new customer! Or was it..?

     

    Oh. Man. Oh. God.

     

    My thoughts have been reduced to monosyllabic gushing. I feel like I had just been stabbed with an electric rod. The hair on my arms stand on end. She’s here, my mind screams like a girl. I feel like the nerdy boy who had just gotten the hottest girl in the school as his prom date. I am excited and terrified at the same time. This was really happening..

     

    Miss Bette Porter, in the flesh. One word: wow.

     

    She breezes inside the restaurant with a quiet detachment that borders a little on unassuming. She pauses by the door and looks around. Except for me, my trusty voice recorder and a small table by the entrance filled with chatty European tourists, the place is near empty. Judging from the way her rigid shoulders relaxes, she seems relieved. Confirming her friends’ claim that she was coming straight from a work meeting, she is wearing a figure hugging business suit that screams command and power more than anything else. She scans the restaurant for familiar faces. For a second I ponder if I should raise a hand and motion her over, unfortunately my nerves get the better of me. But in a display of perfect timing, her three friends emerge from the restroom and point her over to our quaint little enclave at the corner of the joint. She acknowledges them with the smallest of smirks before she saunters over to our table with a confident stride that could only be described as a cocky I-am-a-million-times-richer-than-your-broke-ass swagger that all rich girls seem to possess. She barely makes eye contact with the heads that turned in her direction as she makes her way across the room. The family of eastern European customers appear enthralled. I don’t know if she doesn’t notice them or if she’s ignoring the looks she’s receiving on purpose. What I do know is that she appears like she couldn’t care less. The infamous heiress appears to be somewhat bored of all the excitement her mere presence was garnering. Clearly, this was someone who was used to such attention. My mother did say that if you saw something often enough, you’d quickly be blind to it. I think in a way, she was.

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