Escape

“Oh poo.” I murmured as I watched my keys float in California street water. There was either no god out there, or there was and he had suddenly taken a liking to my despair. I sighed, bending to pick my now soak keys, trying not to imagine what was mixed in with the pooled precipitation. I turned to stare at the fourteen story apartment building that my agent expected me to call home. ugh. One word… gaudy. I might as well choke my creativity and change my name to bob. This place was definitely in need of a reality flash. Huh…maybe it would come in the form of a young female artist. I smirked, thinking of all the ways I could assist to the de-guadification of my new…home. A car horn pulled me from my thoughts and, with another sigh, I began the short stumble to the gold-trimmed building; pulling a gigantic suitcase along in my wake. Yeah, I said gold trim; with these two massive statues of some goddess. Don’t ask me which. I doubt the molder even knew.

It was amazing how many uninteresting rich people lived in my new abode. Like attack of the boring ass investment bankers. One look and I knew that my conversations with my new neighbors would be limited. Everything inside was gold, shit purple, and white. There was no real color. I was just going to have to change that. I handed my bag handle to a very official looking man at the door. He raised an eyebrow at me. What, I’m weird because I don’t like to clothe myself in puke purple frou-frous?

“I assume you would be Miss. Vanessa Ferris.” His haughty voice interrupted my study of him. I smirked, wondering what rumors this place had circulating about me already. By the look he was giving me, I assumed they weren’t exactly flattering.

“Awhh… I’m known?” I said in a fake prissy voice, still smirking. He frowned: his eyes raking over my attire. Just for the record I was looking quite presentable in my white camisole, skinny jeans and my favorite Nine West knee high boots (brown suede). Okay, maybe the camisole was the tiniest bit on the shorter side, revealing the smallest strip of stomach; and maybe the faded jeans had rips in them but not in exposing places or anything.

“Well, its not every day that a fine establishment such as this is … graced… by the presence of such a well renowned artist.” He spat the words graced and Artist, as if trying to rid his mouth of a bad taste. I thought this was hilarious. Here he was, treating me as though I was unwelcome trash when he was manning the door to my new house. I laughed aloud.

“You know, I don’t think being the door man gives you a right to be snooty. Do you? Because the way I see it is I’m the one living in this luxurious place and you’re the one carrying my bags.” I said, keeping an amused air. His mouth parted in shock. I hated it when people bagged on my job. And it’s much harder than being a human door stopper. Normally I am accepting and kind but I didn’t like this stuck up prick so I decided to give him a taste of his own nasty medicine. He composed himself quickly with a clearing of his throat. I gave him a dazzling smile, and then pushed past him into the sickeningly bland lobby of the edifice.

“Bring that to room… 456.” I called over my shoulder, checking my key. He stood in the door way, still stunned. Did people usually take crap from him? Because he needed to learn. I take crap from no one. Well…Almost no one…. I pushed the thought from my mind as I stepped to the receptionist, cringing away from the ugly wallpaper that shrouded the room.

“Ahh… Miss Ferris?” she asked. I decided I liked her. She wore a friendly expression and the cutest shoes I’d ever seen.

“Yeah… Your shoes are so hot!” I replied, watching her blush. Her smile widened.

“Thanks!” she murmured as she finished my paper work. I threw her a grin as I made my way to the elevator; my lovely door boy following in my wake.

soooooo... what do ya think?? read and review! first fictionpress fiction! please, flame if you feel the need, but make it constructive!! i need to better myself!