101 Ways to Get a Guy to Notice You - The Unofficial Guide

"Godammit!" Mrs. Evans damn-near jumps out of her skin at the sound of her daughter's banshee shriek. A nasty scowl curves her brows, and she glares at the opening towards the top of the stairs. "Keep it down, Chloe!" Mrs. Evans shouts. "This is a house of God!" There's another furious screech. "God can kiss my sorry ass!" "Chloe Michelle Evans! Don't make me kick your sorry ass!" "Oh, that's likely, Marshall!" "Chloe!" The neighbor's car honks, a sign that usually means to shut the hell up. Marshall marches over to the kitchen window and yanks it open before shoving her middle finger out of it, blatantly flipping the old man off. Heeled shoes clatter down the hardwood staircase, and Marshall turns to glare at her daughter. Chloe crosses her arms and c***s a sassy eyebrow. "Something you want to share with the room, Mar?" she asks sarcastically, opening her arms to gesture at the room around them. A growl escapes Marshall's mouth as she stares down her daughter's prissy little face. For lack of a better comeback, she snaps, "Pull your damn hair up. You look like you're about to go clubbing with that rat's nest." She points at the blonde mess flipped over Chloe's shoulder and just barely reaching her lower back. "Bite me," Chloe mutters, pulling out a small make-up mirror and applying a layer of lip gloss. "I look f*****g fantastic." "Language." "Fuck." "Say it one more time, Chloe. I dare you." For once in her life, Chloe heeds Marshall's warning and doesn't open her mouth again. Marshall goes back to making herself an omelette, taking small satisfaction in her victory. Chloe sneers at something on her phone as she takes a seat at the counter, her lip curling in an ugly way. "At least be a b***h with a cause," she murmurs, glaring daggers at her screen. "Okay, there's no way this isn't photo-shopped." She turns her phone for Marshall to look at it. "Her t**s are at least the size of the Halloween pumpkins we carved in seventh grade. Remember those? f*****g huge." Marshall stares at the picture, mouth falling open. "If that's not photo-shop, I don't know what is," she claims, recalling seventh-grade Brianna Mars, who was a practical twig at the time. "Her caption is totally stupid, too," Chloe jeers. "'Be innerly beautiful. You don't need a guy.' Like, what the f**k? Don't tell me what I do and don't need, hoe. If anyone needs anything here, it's you. I-E: better implants." Marshall snorts, flipping her breakfast onto one of the glass plates sitting on the counter. "Do you know when Daddy's coming home?" Chloe asks, holding her phone away from herself and snapping a picture. Marshall speed-walks over to the fridge, yanking it open and pulling out one of Chloe's labeled yogurts. "Sometime next week." Chloe purses her lips, clearly displeased with the news, before setting her rose-gold phone down on the counter and swishing her breakfast around. "Where is he always going?" she queries, holding her hair out of the way as she leans over the container and takes a bite from the yogurt. A grimace pulls at Marshall's face as she salts and peppers the omelette. "That's your father's business. He doesn't like talking about it." She knows she sounds like a pushover, but the last time she asked... It's silent for a moment more before Chloe pushes her yogurt away and stands up. "Whatever. I'm taking the Lexus today." And with that, she's sashaying out of the door, straightened blonde hair trailing behind her. Marshall shakes her head and looks out of the window, watching with bated breath as her daughter backs out of the garage. She suddenly feels the weird urge to bow her head, and so she does, clasping her hands together and inhaling deeply. "Lord, God, almighty and everlasting Father. Please send someone to help my daughter; give her the will to do good unto others; I don't even care. Just please, give her a purpose in life. Make her feel important. Help her to be happy. Amen." With those closing words, Marshall stands up and wanders back towards her home office, forgetting her breakfast on the counter. * * * Hey, loves! So, that's the prologue. Any thoughts? Every chapter following this will be in Chloe's perspective. This one was simply in her mother, Marshall's, because I believe it serves an important purpose. ;) Xoxo, J.