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“I'm sorry, your card's been declined, ma'am.”
“What? Obviously, there's been a mistake. Run it again.”
I waited as the woman behind the make-up counter at Neiman Marcus ran my credit card for the third time in a row. This was so embarrassing.
“Ma'am, I'm very sorry. It's just not going through.”
Fuck! I had already tried my other two cards at Jimmy Choo and Prada on Rodeo Drive earlier today and they didn't go through either.
He had finally done it. After months of threatening to cut me off, my horrid father had finally gone through with it, proving he was more of an asshole than I thought he was.
“Just give it back.” I snatched the card from the woman behind the counter, her perfect manicure annoying me even more than her perfectly coiffed head. Turning on my heel, I clutched my faithful canine shih tzu companion, Pearl, in my arms as I unsuccessfully attempted to control the blush that crept across my cheeks and keep my cool.
“Your machine is obviously broken.” I called back over my shoulder as I walked away, pulling out my iPhone, the heels of my leather boots clacking loudly on the pristine white marble floor as I made my way across the massive gleaming store. When I spotted the ladies lounge across the way, I headed straight for it.
As soon as I entered the quiet room, I put Pearl down and hit the green button on my phone screen and held the phone up to my ear as my father answered.
“Daddy, how could you!”
“I'm sorry, Vanessa. I warned you ahead of time. In fact, I gave you many, many warnings! It’s time for you to get a job.”
“That's ridiculous! I've never had a job in my life, and you can't just cut me off like that. I have to take care of Pearl, and I have bills and…things...that I need...to buy.” My voice trailed off, knowing it was no use.
“I'm not changing my mind, Vanessa. You're going to have to figure something out on your own. You're a grown woman now and you can't depend on your mother and me forever.”
His voice was gruff and angry in my ear, and my heart sank as I realized he really meant it this time.
I was fucked.
I hung up on him in mid-sentence and plopped down on one of the massive turquoise leather couches in the ladies room, scooping up Pearl and holding her in my arms. Tears streamed down my face as I contemplated my predicament. I was quite literally fucked. I had nothing. No money in the bank. No savings. No income.
I did, however, have a very nice loft apartment that came with a hefty rent that was due in two weeks, and was full of all kinds of expensive things, but they were all things that I had grown to love dearly.
Like my leather boot collection. And my designer purses. Not to mention the rest of my wardrobe and jewelry. All of these things were worth tons of money.
But outside of Pearl, the most important things to me were my art. The supplies I needed to be a sculptor cost outrageous amounts of cash. When you’re making life-sized pieces out of marble, it wasn’t cheap.
But I had no money. And now, I didn't have any working credit cards to buy anything else, either.
Like I said, fucked. Completely and royally screwed.
I rummaged around my bag, searching for my wallet. I found a crumpled up fifty dollar bill, two singles and 87 cents in change. Lovely. We could eat. For maybe two days in Beverly Hills if I was frugal.
“Fuck!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing through the high-ceilinged room, causing Pearl to snuggle into my arm.
The sound of a toilet flushing startled me. I thought I was alone, but I hadn't paid much attention either. At this point, I didn't give a shit though. I didn't care if some blue-haired socialite saw me crying like a baby in the ladies lounge at Neiman Marcus. I had more important things to worry about.
Like obtaining money. And a job. And how I was going to stretch this fifty-two dollars in my lap as far as I could in the meantime. And how I was going to take care of Pearl. She had been my constant companion since she was eight weeks old and I was thirteen, and now at the old dog age of twelve years old, she required all kinds of expensive care.
Despite my initial phone call, I knew my father thought I would continue to beg him to change his mind but he was wrong. I was tired of his manipulative, controlling bullshit and this stunt was just another step in him trying to control me. I was twenty-five, for fuck's sake! He didn't like it that I wanted to pursue my art instead of working some boring corporate job or God forbid - become a politician like him. If I had agreed to go to some Ivy League school, he would have no problem funding that. But no, just because I have an artistic spirit and I had big dreams of being a sculptor, he thinks I'm being lazy or unambitious. I'm an embarrassment to him.
Not like my older sister, Kate. Kate the lawyer. Kate the graduate of Stanford Law School. Kate, the perfect daughter, with the perfect husband, and the perfect mother of exactly two-and-a-half perfect children. I adored my nieces and I was sure I would equally love my nephew as soon as he arrived. It was their mother that drove me crazy. How she was able to do it all so well, and make it appear so effortless, had baffled me for years. However, she wasn’t humble about it nor did she hide her disapproval of my chosen path.
Hence, the rift between us. We just didn’t understand each other.
I was the black sheep. The black sheep who just happened to like nice things.
We were total opposites, and it had always been obvious who our father loved more. The perfect one.
Well, I would show him. But first, I had to prove to myself I could do it. I had depended on his money for a long time, but no more! Today was the end of that.
I would just get a job. That's what everyone else did. It couldn't be that hard. I would figure it out.
The clicking of stiletto heels on the shiny floor interrupted my train of thought, and I looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen.
“Oh! Mon petite mimi! Darling, you look like you need a friend!”
She sat down next to me and quickly pulled me and Pearl into her arms. As she caressed my back, I was engulfed with a heady waft of the most intoxicating fragrance I had ever experienced. Uniquely floral, it invoked memories of lilac and rose, but with an underlying musky smell I couldn’t quite place. I inhaled deeply, memorizing her scent, wanting her to never let go, wanting to smell her forever.
Sinking into her embrace, I silently laid my head on her shoulder and cried, profoundly thankful for her presence as Pearl wiggled in my lap.
From that moment on, my life was never the same.