Could my life be any more fucking cliched? she thought.
It was true, though. Everybody in Emma's life seemed to have walked straight out of central casting – her gold digging whore of a mother, her absurdly wealthy step-father, her sexually inept but ardent boyfriend, her perfect big sister studying abroad in France. It was a fucking joke.
And, to make matters worse, when her life did deviate from the cliché, it was in the worst possible way: her absurdly wealthy step-father was also absurdly cheap. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd seen the movies – she knew how it was supposed to be. He was a supposed to be oblivious, and generous to a fault, trying to buy her mother's affection by casual bribery of her children. But Dan, damn him, was a shrewd and careful negotiator, and a penny-pincher of the first degree.
Emma sighed. It was only for a few more months, as she kept reminding herself. In the fall, she would be going off to college – on a full scholarship, good luck trying to get Dan to pay for it – and then she wouldn't have to put up with them any more. It was going to be a very good thing.
But until then, she was stuck here with no money and no car, holed up in her room avoiding everybody and generally wasting the summer away. Not only that, but it wasn't even as if she could run to her boyfriend for solace – no, of course not. He and his family had gone to Florida for two weeks. Her mother was also gone for two weeks – not that Emma had had a heart-to-heart with her mother since she was thirteen – visiting her perfect big sister in France. It was just her and Dan alone in the big house, casually avoiding each other.
“This sucks,” She said to her reflection in the mirror. She'd been brushing her hair, just for something to do. Her mirror image didn't reply. It never did.
She was a pretty girl, Emma. She knew that, and staring in the mirror only confirmed it. She was short and fair featured, with a shock of thick dark curls and full, naturally red lips. Trim through the waist and full of breast, she was far too pretty to be trapped in her room for a summer. She should be on the big screen, winning the hearts of a nation.
Emma laughed. “Yeah, right,” she said, even as she stood up and did a Gingers Rogers twirl. “Emma Mares, Hollywood It Girl.” The thought made her grin. In truth, she had absolutely no interest in theater or film. Still, it would be pretty cool to be rich and famous.
Dan was rich, but he wasn't famous. He'd invented some sort of encryption algorithm or a crypto-currency, or some sort of thing that Emma may have actually been interested in if someone else had invented it. He'd become a multimillionaire literally over night. But for all his liquidity, he still wouldn't buy her a car. Not even a used one. And it wasn't like she hadn't asked...
Maybe I just haven't been asking the right way , she thought, followed by a thought she flinched from even within her own head.
But... why not? she thought. After all, she didn't have to be a weak and ineffective Hamlet, wasting away under the weight of her own ennui and indecision. She was a modern woman, and if she wanted something, all she had to do was... take it.
Suddenly, Emma had a plan.
* * *
Emma put her plan into action that very evening. After taking a long, hot shower and shaving every part of her body bare, she wrapped her hair in a towel and waited. Dan should be coming up the stairs to head to be any minute.
As she waited, she stared at herself in the mirror. At
It was true, though. Everybody in Emma's life seemed to have walked straight out of central casting – her gold digging whore of a mother, her absurdly wealthy step-father, her sexually inept but ardent boyfriend, her perfect big sister studying abroad in France. It was a fucking joke.
And, to make matters worse, when her life did deviate from the cliché, it was in the worst possible way: her absurdly wealthy step-father was also absurdly cheap. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd seen the movies – she knew how it was supposed to be. He was a supposed to be oblivious, and generous to a fault, trying to buy her mother's affection by casual bribery of her children. But Dan, damn him, was a shrewd and careful negotiator, and a penny-pincher of the first degree.
Emma sighed. It was only for a few more months, as she kept reminding herself. In the fall, she would be going off to college – on a full scholarship, good luck trying to get Dan to pay for it – and then she wouldn't have to put up with them any more. It was going to be a very good thing.
But until then, she was stuck here with no money and no car, holed up in her room avoiding everybody and generally wasting the summer away. Not only that, but it wasn't even as if she could run to her boyfriend for solace – no, of course not. He and his family had gone to Florida for two weeks. Her mother was also gone for two weeks – not that Emma had had a heart-to-heart with her mother since she was thirteen – visiting her perfect big sister in France. It was just her and Dan alone in the big house, casually avoiding each other.
“This sucks,” She said to her reflection in the mirror. She'd been brushing her hair, just for something to do. Her mirror image didn't reply. It never did.
She was a pretty girl, Emma. She knew that, and staring in the mirror only confirmed it. She was short and fair featured, with a shock of thick dark curls and full, naturally red lips. Trim through the waist and full of breast, she was far too pretty to be trapped in her room for a summer. She should be on the big screen, winning the hearts of a nation.
Emma laughed. “Yeah, right,” she said, even as she stood up and did a Gingers Rogers twirl. “Emma Mares, Hollywood It Girl.” The thought made her grin. In truth, she had absolutely no interest in theater or film. Still, it would be pretty cool to be rich and famous.
Dan was rich, but he wasn't famous. He'd invented some sort of encryption algorithm or a crypto-currency, or some sort of thing that Emma may have actually been interested in if someone else had invented it. He'd become a multimillionaire literally over night. But for all his liquidity, he still wouldn't buy her a car. Not even a used one. And it wasn't like she hadn't asked...
Maybe I just haven't been asking the right way , she thought, followed by a thought she flinched from even within her own head.
But... why not? she thought. After all, she didn't have to be a weak and ineffective Hamlet, wasting away under the weight of her own ennui and indecision. She was a modern woman, and if she wanted something, all she had to do was... take it.
Suddenly, Emma had a plan.
* * *
Emma put her plan into action that very evening. After taking a long, hot shower and shaving every part of her body bare, she wrapped her hair in a towel and waited. Dan should be coming up the stairs to head to be any minute.
As she waited, she stared at herself in the mirror. At
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