Bloodsucker
1065 Words
Ah, the happy fiasco of last year. Minerva still had a bitter taste on her tongue at the mere memory of that fact. She averted her eyes from those who were until now the center of all bad opinions and comments and focused on no specific point on the pristine white cloth that covered the table, as she lost herself in the sea of stormy waters of her memory.
There were only two days left for the Christmas Eve and Christmas celebrations, the atmosphere in New York City was overwhelming and people walked in all directions with more haste than usual saturated with so much Christmas spirit and Jingle Bells. Minerva at that time was not very different from her fellow New Yorkers, she was saturated with the smell of hot chocolate and overwhelmed by the constant noise in the streets. I almost lost my head between the irritating city situations and the unbearable heat of the workshop, tantrum models demanding as much or more attention than a baby. Suppliers who believed themselves to be the navel of the world demanding to be attended first, exhausting invitations to end-of-the-year and Christmas parties, and his stressful and tiresome mother almost pushing her way through all those people with her high red heels demanding and shouting that he should be in home by then or he swore he would cross it out of his will. Crazy, Minerva was losing her sanity and the temper for which she was always flattered.
She was so engrossed in the uproar that it threatened her patience with every second that she completely forgot to give the final, punctilious review of the list of models from the winter show. Terrible mistake. You should have seen that list. Minerva almost lost her temper the day she saw that filthy, creeping cockroach sitting backstage at the parade. He still remembers it so vividly that his blood boils like hot lava, giving orders and capricious screams about imported water and s**t, trying to minimize the self-esteem of many of his trusted role models and to top it all off, and the worst of it. ... To tear apart the unique and special piece of the parade just because it did not fit his skeletal figure. Minerva exploded and almost made him a nice rope necklace with the meter she wore around her neck and previews her interview with Satan — you know. About going to hell, because she was sure that there satan had a special place for such a putrid and capricious soul—, however Salvatore intervened and with all the diplomacy he had his skinny and rickety ass from the parade.
The piece valued at over a quarter of a million was ruined by that stinking fourth grade dung. Ugh, Minerva's skin almost twitched with anger. Just seeing her makes me want to trample her to death. Come on, Minerva. Breathe, breathe easy. Minerva mentally repeats herself. Remember the yoga classes ...
Ohmmm ...
Ohmmm.
Ohm f**k it. Sorry, Monitor Bianca. My anger and that priceless lingerie set are not going to be restored with their s**t "Ohmm".
“Minerva, are you okay?” He heard Daysi's worried voice. Minerva had not realized it but she had the crystal goblet between the fingers of her right hand and it was holding the delicate crystal tightly causing it to emit a shattering sound. He almost pushed the glass away as if it burned him. What I was missing, Minerva snorted, having to pay for a cheap drink at this shitty party. "You look upset ...
Minerva smiled wryly at her. "Oh, my dear." I'm so elated I could go give Lalenka Newman a couple of kisses. ”Daysi pursed her lips into a fine line of disgust. He hated inviting Minerva to this party. Minerva sighed, she didn't want to make Daysi feel bad, however her anger far surpassed her. "Daysi, don't you fancy a bit of Ben and Jerry's?" The food here sucks and the music is starting to give me a headache.
Daysi’s eyes lit up.
-Clear! Let's get out of here, ”said Daysi enthusiastically and completely renewed. It would be like in their college years when they barely had to buy a liter of ice cream and a service of Chinese food.
They both stood up, drawing the attention of several people from nearby tables. The murmurs began to be heard, among them praise for Minerva and her spectacular green velvet dress, and others discouraged by the short stay of the woman. Some women glowed with envy for the figure — which despite being consistent was shapely and well molded — of her feminine body and the perfection of her sharp features. There was one woman in particular who stopped at Minerva. Beatrice Mercury, now Radcliff watched Minerva with sick envy. Not just because she was young and beautiful, but because she had a fortune and an ancestry that rubbed shoulders with the nobility of Europe. Minerva had everything Beatrice dreamed of and more.
"Hey Mine… isn't that the new Mrs. Radcliff?" Daysi whispered very softly as she noticed the lady's dark eyes were fixed on them with intensity. Minerva peered out of the corner of her eye to see who it was and vaguely remembered his face, even though it was Mrs. Mercury at the time. Former wife of the late Armen Mercury, a man who was too noble and gentle to be in high society if you asked, yet someone very capable in business. Unfortunately, she had died of heart failure as a result of the stress and burden of debt that drowned her weak body.
Of course, his wife was quick to quit and get a new ATM to pay his high bills. To Minerva she was a whimsical little girl who was trapped in a body that aged day after day, she was not surprised that she and the roach got along so well. The two were two splinters from the same tree. In other words, she was just looking for rich husbands to follow the shallow lifestyle of a poor woman who knew the luxuries of wealth.
Minerva smiled. The brotherhood between foxes in the end perhaps if it existed. As an independent woman, the idea disgusted her. Relying on a man's wallet? Hell no! It was demeaning, deplorable in her eyes.
He looked away from that woman and vowed that she would never be like her. A sad leech that lived on others.
- Writer
