Money on Her

The bang of airplanes landing was the first thing I heard, then the beeps and musical tones of airport security clearance. Both indicators that I'd fallen asleep in the transit lounge. Forcing my eyes open...my ears too, I realized the final the final boarding call for my flight was being announced on the loudspeaker "....passengers traveling on flight AF 354 to Massachusetts". I made to get up and drag my suitcase behind me.It was small enough to be allowed as hand luggage, I was only staying a few days...how long do art gallery exhibits last anyway?. A faint "Lis!" from somewhere behind me caught my attention halting my every movement. Turning around just a bit, I was met with a set of facial features I was quite familiar with. "Jeremy, hi!" I forced out while turning fully. I said I was familiar with the face, I didn't particularly say I liked it. He grinned widely "I wasn't sure but now I am, how are you lis?" Lis...I hated that but I wasn't exactly going to blab to someone who wouldn't give a flying cockroach what I liked. "I'm good, great..." I trailed off, having nothing to say to this man in front of me but it seemed this was one sided because he picked it up "What are you doing here? Squandered daddy's money yet?" he waggled his eyebrows at me eliciting a forced laugh from me. See this? this is why I didn't like his face or any millionaire face.. particularly my father's friends' millionaire faces. Dear daddy...before he died was a millionaire, a multi millionaire and don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to money...but when a person has excess of it, it causes problems...daddy taught me that the hard way. As a little girl, I was never paid attention to, except when I was to be used as a trophy of some sorts... or to be used as a smiling backdrop at a luxurious event. If I had a problem, he'd throw money at it. if I needed something, he assumed it could be bought with money...you can't buy care, right? wrong!.. because he literally did buy me care...in the form of nannies..yes, plural. Jeremy Daniels here was one of his friends, he didn't have kids and he's younger so it made him all the more luxurious than my father. When daddy died, I was already 19 and I didn't want anything to do with his money so despite protests from my extended family, I left all his money behind and went to find my own way..I'd always loved art, painting, drawing...the works. It helped that daddy had gotten me a private art instructor when I was 8..so you could say I was a bit of a Picasso now...at 24. Saying that finding an art related job at 19 was hard would be an understatement, it was impossible... eventually I gave up and got a regular job as a waitress while also doing little projects on the side and posting them online. Fast-forward a few years, one of my paintings was recognized Geoffrey Allen, a huge talent scout who coincidentally had been looking for decent artists. Fast forward a few months, I had more projects and museums hounding me to buy them..and a decent bank balance. Oh and did I mention, exclusive invites to art exhibitions and galas in Massachusetts...yeah, I probably did. I startled when my flight ticket was snatched up from my unsuspecting fingers and realized... Jeremy was still here "Economy class?!, Lis what is this?" "A plane ticket" I deadpanned and snatched the ticket back earning a blank look from him "Not that...I mean..." "Jeremy, I really have to go, my final boarding call was ages ago so I need to get going if I don't want to be left behind" I cut him off.. backing away slowly. Then walking away fully with my back to him I tossed a "it was nice seeing you again" over my shoulder...it wasn't but he didn't need to know that. A murmured "economy class?.. really?!" reached my ears before I crossed the boarding gate to find my plane. Did I mention that invites to luxurious places was part of my package deal as an artist?... because if I didn't, then my hotel suite would convey that message. The gallery hosting the exhibition had made full payments for my accommodation and transportation for the night so you can imagine the obnoxiously expensive stuff in this room right now... starting from the living room with full length windows giving a breathtaking view of the city from here, glass double doors in one corner leading to a balcony with a little round table and two cute matching chairs.. perfect for wine and chill I thought. An 88 inch flat screen tv..which I strongly doubt I'd use anyway, facing a set of beige couches that could substitute for beds any day for me. Walking through the doorway that led to the kitchen, I was faced with one that belonged in barbie: dream house..but you know, less pink. Not that I hadn't seen all this before but..it's just surprising how each hotel I lodge at manages to be more expensive looking than the last. Glancing at the digital clock hanging on the wall beside the cupboards, I realize I don't exactly have time to keep admiring this makeshift dream house because i have merely 3 hours to the event and a buttload of preparation to be done. So as we say in English, I hop to it.Not.... literally though. By the time I get notified that the limo...yes, a limousine..that's to convey me to gallery is here, I'm completely ready and sipping on a glass of wine, why?... simple. Because I'm going to an event which will inevitably be filled with millionaires and the likes and we've clearly established my feelings towards them, haven't we?. Therefore, since I cannot avoid this, I need all the strength I can gather, to avoid committing g******e. I pick up my clutch bag and head towards the elevator, which was to come from a floor above mine. When the doors open, I step in and the first thing I notice is a black suit, it's not exactly an extraordinary suit so why did I notice it? I'm wondering exactly that when the elevator starts to go down. Glancing sideways to get a clearer view of the wearer of the suit, I notice a sharp jawline, nice....a hint of a stubble, a man who shaves,point for him!...a sharp nose, why would the shape of a nose be important..but his makes his side profile seem straight out of a romance novel...his eyes are the last thing I notice, a sharp green..but I could be getting it wrong, judging from the angle I'm..."take a picture, it'll last longer" he murmurs...and even his voice seems out a romance novel. I could literally paint his voice and trust me, it'd sell for billions of dollars...it was that good, no... consuming. The type of voice that that you'd wish gave you your TED talks and... "need me to lend you a camera too?". I snapped back to reality and realized I'd been staring...for a while. before I could open my mouth to retort, the doors opened with a satisfying ding and he stepped out leaving me inside. Collecting myself as well, I headed outside in the direction of limo which I had spotted instantly. Thinking of this weird exchange...of words from him and stares from me.. and this weird man I'd just met and thought he couldn't be a millionaire, he looked like he could be one though but didn't act like it.. millionaires basked in the limelight so he wouldn't have found my staring offensive. Well, no need to keep wondering, I might not even see him again, it was a pretty big hotel so the chances of bumping into him again to deliver my missed retort were quite slim. For now, I had to put on the face of a proud artist and face my sold paintings, nice famous people who would hopefully recognize my work and patronize me, a few friendly faces, and...the unavoidable billionaire community *inserts eye roll* I thought this was a large event but as it turns out, I was wrong. it's enormous. With the waiters passing with trays of drinks, people catching up, people staring at paintings, people drinking..like I said, people everywhere, huge event. I was currently standing off to one side, eyeing a group of suit clad men whom I knew to be millionaires gathered around one of the many paintings I had sold to this gallery a few months back. I had expected them to be here, but I still had this huge feeling of dislike bubbling inside me with every passing second. however, what I didn't expect was that the elevator guy would be here...and that he would be in that group...like he was one of them. To be fair, he was...a millionaire, and for once I realized that my millionaire detector sense had been wrong.