Spoiler! :
"Hey mom! Welcome back to good ol' gloomy Seattle!" I plastered the most cheesiest smile for her.
A lot of people say I took after my father with my facial features. But others' say I took after my mother. It might have just been the eyes with her.
She didn't look a day over forty, thanks to the Botox and thousands of dollars on makeup that layered her face. Her body was taken care of with two workouts a day at the gym and morning yoga. She was the stereotypical representation of a rich white woman.
We were at the airport. I had picked her up from her business trip to London. It was packed, people had swarmed everywhere around us and the intercom never shut up.
Mom had a baggage handler help her with her five bags, Louis Vuitton of course. She had on a white teethed smile as she approached me, lowering her sunglasses down her nose. Her skin was so tan, it was like she was at the Bahamas for her trip rather than London.
"Baby, how are you? I missed you!" she wrapped her arms around me gently, barely touching me. "I wish you came with me. You would have loved London." she said as she pulled away.
A cold tingle went through my body when she touched me, typical bodily response. I just kept on smiling at her, feeling my cheeks attempt to give out.
"School is a priority, remember that Ma." I responded.
"Oh, yes..." she blew me off and looked behind her at the two baggage handlers. "Let's go to the car boys, you'll get a nice tip for this, I promise."
Nice tip? If you count splitting five dollars between two people a nice tip, sure.
***
We were back home and I already missed having the house to myself. I could hear my mother blabbering to her Bluetooth about the next party slash event she was planning for the beginning of school. She always did this. I guess it showed that she loved me a little?
It was a party/event to get teens and adults alike ready for the school year. Have that one last party of the summer to start the school year just right.
And to show the whole city who really is the best here. The best is Francis Sofia Katherine Franz, my mother, the gold digger.
Ha, don't think that she married my dad because he loved him. That'd be a sin to love the man you marry. She learned to love him over time, but, sadly, she caught him at a young age, they were both 21. She knew he'd go far after passing all his exams with straight A's and getting his first job as a lawyer at the age of 23. Look at him now! He has his own business which holds over one hundred attorneys.
How proud.
Maybe she loves him now. I'll never know.
"Rupert! Rupert! Come here for a moment." my mother had yelled down the stairs.
I was in the basement in the storage room, looking for my soccer jersey. My futbol jersey, sorry. My mother had made me call soccer futbol ever since my dad got a raise in his old job ten years ago.
What were we? British?
I stopped rummaging through the boxes and walked out of the room into the living area of the basement then the stairs. My mom was standing there with her six inch heels. Her Bluetooth headset was attached to her ear, always at the ready.
"Baby, I need you to go to the store and pick up these things for me." She waved a note. "We are having the party this weekend, Saturday. So we only have a few days to get ready. Thank you honey."
She spun on her heel but before she could go anywhere, I spoke up.
"I was going to play some futbol at the park. To practice on my game before heading back to school." I crossed my arms over my chest.
"Oh honey, do that tomorrow. This is more dire." She giggled.
"How is a party more dire? Explain that to me."
"Do not talk back to your mother! Rupert, what happened to you?" Her eyes met mine and I felt like I was staring into a dead soul.
"I was always like this, don't forget it."
"Rupert, now. You can play your sport after shopping, alright? Please do this. Your father let Rodrigo..." I cut her off.
"Robert," I huffed.
"Whatever, have a day off so I can't ask him to buy me these things. It's a small favor from your mother."
I huffed in response and she smiled, walking away from the basement door.
We did have a home staff that worked for us, but when they were gone, I mostly made them go home. I never told my parents so they could get paid. But sometimes I kept them because I knew I'd get caught if they didn't at least clean the house every few weeks. Robert happened to be my mother's assistant, a house wife's assistant. It's a thing... in this household. He did the shopping, the planning, and the driving. Only driving if needed, we had a driver as well.
I texted Colette, 'wanna go shopping with me? I'll explain later.'
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