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Stylishly Yours, Your Father's Replica: Sum |
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I… hate this place.
The sky’s too blue, the clouds too white.
The sun… too yellow and shiny.
The streets are too new, too wide.
The houses are too similar and too clean and too PERFECT.
Mom’s new husband is too… clean cut, and not gang-like, and he’s just not Daddy!
I hate this place!
“Jen,” I turn my head slightly, “Are you done packing?”
No, because I‘m hoping if you see how miserable I am, you will send me back to New York with Dad. “Yeah, I’m almost done,” I say, opening my first box of clothes.
My mother’s similar brownish hazel eyes stare at me sadly before she opens her mouth to say, “Jen, please don’t do this to me-”
“Do what?”
“This!” she dragged her hand across the room. “Jen, you haven’t unpacked a single thing, and we’ve been here for four hours!”
“Yeah, I was just admiring the sky-”
“That’s bullshit, Jennifer,” my mom’s eyes turned a dangerous color for a split second: a talent that was left over from her gang days.
I gulp a bit. When she turned into Gangster Mom, and you wanted to disobey her, it’s like you have to avoid a snowstorm when you’re in the center of Central Park: close to impossible. I pout, and mutter, “Fine. But I don’t like it here. At all.” I shove my body onto the unmade and uncovered mattress like a child and I don’t care. I turn my blonde head away from my mother.
I can tell Mom’s hazel eyes have softened back to their original light color, and she makes her way around my box barrier and sits next to me. I feel the mattress shift a bit.
“Oh, Honey, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it here in Nevada, but I wasn’t about to leave you with your idiotic father in New York. You‘re learn to like it here, I promise you! And no, I will not permit you to leave this room until you have unpacked every single box of your giant closet into these drawers!” She wraps an arm around my shoulders as I continue to look away and out the window.
A bitter sting cuts my heart. I grind my teeth, and was about to snap when I thought, How could she! Daddy wasn‘t stupid! I‘ll never like Las Vegas like I love New York City! Never! My mouth opens to argue, but the door bell rings right as my voice squeaks.
I snarl at the pretty sound.
Once my mother left the room, I moodily swung the box I had opened onto the floor, and let my stylish clothes fall to the ground in a giant heap. I make a face, and mutter, “I hate this place. I hate Las Vegas. I hate this house. I hate my life. How dare she order me around when I‘m almost an adult! I’m freaking seventeen!” I slowly grab a skirt, and harshly open another box labeled, “Hangers.” I slam my closet open and begin shoving clothes inside.
Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door, and my mom walks back in.
I glare at her, and I say, “What? I’m unpacking like you-”
My eyes widen at the sight behind my mother’s petite frame. There, standing like a God trying to save me from this burning hell, is a tall, sandy-haired, glasses-wearing, broad-shouldered, slightly-opened-dress-shirt-wearing, torn-jean-wearing, and stylishly SEXY OLDER guy.
I felt my jaw drop slightly before I collected myself, and ask slowly, “Mother… who is this?”
She grins at my stunned face, and says with a hint of an underlying purpose, “Jennifer, meet our neighbor,” she directs her hand towards the - delicious and scrumptious and hot and tanned and yummy and just flat out my type - older boy, “Eric.”
“Hello, nice to meet you, Jennifer - Wah!” As the boy took a step forward, his foot got caught, and he was suddenly tripping all over the boxes and his own shoe laces within the ten feet it took to reach me. By the time he got to me, he had landed face-first onto my bed in the most clumsiest way I have ever seen. Getting up a bit, he rubbed his nose, and moaned, “Ow…”
I looked at my mom, and she begins to laugh. “Oh, Eric! You okay?”
I saw the red pass his tan face, and I smile a little. He reminds me of Daddy…
I didn’t catch my mom’s knowing eyes on me while she helped Eric up. I didn’t see how they melted, then hardened, and then got glassy. When she told me to escort Eric, I never saw her begin to cry.
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Jennifer Daniels loves style. Living in New York was her dream: the newest fashions right when they entered the States. Her second choice for a place to live would be Europe, because they were THE Fashion Trend Starters. And seventeen-year-old Jen always got her way: ALWAYS. Especially when she’s with her bad-boy/klutzy/gullible daddy… but it was rare since her father was a gang boss.
But when her mother tells her she has no choice but to move away from her beloved New York City, and away from what her mother calls, the b*stard you call your father, Jen immediately rebelled. But despite this, her mother eventually got Jen away from NYC, and to the blazing town of Las Vegas, Nevada.
At first, Jen has done just about everything to get her mother to send her back to NYC. She misses her old penthouse, the shopping, the buildings, the seasons, and the thing she misses the most is her dad. And now that she lived across the country, she knew he would never be able to visit her, he would never hug her, and she knew he would never save her.
But as time passes, Jen is more and more attracted to her neighbor in the fancy clean and new construction homes outside of the Strip. Eventually, though her mother sees this and tries to stop it, Jen falls in love with the replica of her father. Thanks to his constant fatherly presence, Jen was able to get through high school, and was able to get accepted to a exclusive design college in New York City! Jen was happy as she could be, and across the country, so was her father watching his little girl grow up.
So when it turns out this twenty-one year old is a member of her father’s gang, and was ordered to protect the two women from any harm, Jen is torn in two. Was Eric’s acts of affection him, or her father’s orders?
 Ukeire · Tue Aug 18, 2009 @ 10:56pm · 0 Comments |
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