Post by sonny on Dec 22, 2011 16:12:52 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] |
| [atrb=background,http://i40.tinypic.com/14vp5xu.jpg] [scrolly:h(379),w(269),sy] 'THANK god it's not freezing tonight,' Stella thought sourly as she drifted through the crowds of black tie wannabes. THE annual beneficiaries banquet for the school was something Estella Russo actively dreaded like the plague. It wasn't just the school benefit she dreaded, don't worry. Stella hated all benefits that required her to be cheery and whatnot. It was all quite boring and all of them were the same no matter what hemisphere she was in. Give a little money for a grant and then get chained to a seat at some 'high table' for an evening of overpriced food, wine that gets worse through the night and the most boring company imaginable. Honestly that was why Stella seldom gave to any charity, be it for orphans in Africa or a cure for some rare cancer. Of course when Innovation came knocking however, she couldn't say no. They'd been her home when her family had cut her off. Set her up for law school on a fast track that set records in multiple states. Right now that education they gave her and set her up for was paying for no less than ten students to be here. And that was just from her pocket change donation. HONESTLY, if Estella gave a donation she considered generous, this poor school and all it's higher ups would die from the shock. CRADLING a crystal glass of deep red wine, Stella floated through the crowd and a sleek gold gown that fluttered like butterfly wings around her and whispered like a well kept secret. Around her neck hung a generous diamond pendent with twinkling twin earrings at her ear lobes. A delicate handmade gold watch was wrapped snugly around her left wrist. The hands of a finely bred heiress tapered into fine fingers, each one tipped with perfectly maintained fingernails. The dress she wore fluttered down to mid-calf and she wore impressive gold high heels but walked through the crowd for all the world like she wasn't wearing heels that would kill a lesser woman. Her makeup was modest, doing what makeup should, accenting her good looks instead of smothering them. Her gold hair was twisted and curled neatly into a knot at the back of her head and held in place with a single glittering beret. TO an outsider she would look like every one of these snobby lawyers, doctors and education advocates chortling into their low dollar wine. To someone that knew class and had grown up in this world, it was obvious Stella was something special. She cradled her wine, not chugging it out of boredom until she was too drunk to know how much money she was signing away. She moved with purpose like a sleek predator through the crowd, flickering gold in a sea of black tuxes and older women in gowns meant for much younger ladies. There were few benefactors here as young as Stella, the fact hadn't missed her. Most of the men were sporting white or graying hair and their wives had the distinct look of people that had their plastic surgeon on speed dial. 'MAYBE I should have gone into writing wills, I could make a killing here,' Stella thought sourly, passing a waiter as she crossed the courtyard. PASSING through an arch into an adjacent courtyard, Estel stood beside a well carved pillar and regarded the dance floor their gracious hosts had set up for the drunks that thought they could still dance in heels without turning their ankle. The music was of course, provided by a live little string group set off to the side playing for off rhythm dancers. A few were actually on key and dancing the right dance to match the music but not many. Most of the ones actually dancing correctly were the older benefactors, the ones still in love with their wives enough to not lose them as soon as possible. Watching them twirl around the dance floor amid the more clumsy dancers, Stella had to smile a little, the rim of her wine glass resting against her bottom lip. HOWmany times had she ended up in this exact position over the years? Since she was twelve her father would drag her around the globe with an escort of tutors to attend stuffy events like this. Paris, London, Rome, Los Angeles, New York, Madrid, Sydney. She'd seen them all through the glitter of lights on wine glasses and heard the click of a million ladies in high heels. It was almost laughable how she still ended up in this position even after her father's death, swathed in his money but with nothing but boring benefits to show for it. At least in court someone contested her, challenged her, made her think. Here, this was easy. Chat happily, give off an air of 'I have more money than you' and leave with an insult wrapped in a compliment. Lather, rinse, repeat as needed. Each time it ended with her relaxing in a corner until it was socially acceptable to leave, wine glass in hand with no intention of drinking the cheap drink. No one would approach. In a town like this, there weren't a ton of millionaires and word had spread fast when Estella had settled down here. Not many could afford the life she lived and few still worked while having the life she had. ALL these old men and their made up wives, they knew her. Knew her family name, if only faintly. Knew she was smart, young and pretty. A danger to their foolhearted sons and with the guts to take them on in any game of wit. They saw her as dangerous. A lioness circling the sheep. They'd never say it but they never needed to. Estella knew it. They'd treated her parents that way. Her father had loved it, her mother had wept because of it. Now Stella simply lived a the life of a rich girl with no one to share it with in some remote town in the Rockies, away from her crazy family with her greyhounds for comfort. RAISING her wine glass to eye level and swirling the red liquid languidly, Stella watched the light play on the crystal and wine. All her life that was her view. Rolling her eyes, Stella set the wine glass on a little ledge at the base of the column, just below the level of her hip. Resting her hip lightly against the stone, mindful of her gown, Stella crossed her arms loosely across her stomach, left hand resting on her right forearm and right hand on her left forearm. Her gaze went back to the dancers, It was going to be a long boring night before she could crawl back into sweats and lay on the couch with her babies. Tagged;; open Word Count;; 1151 Song;; "Rich Girl" by Gwen Stefani Notes;; ^^ |
 |