couldn't really complain. I wasn't sure what to expect because it really wasn't like I had ever had to work while I lived at home. Dad was the dentist to most of the professional athletes in Chicago, and sometimes I would help with the filing in his office. That was just about the extent of my work experience.
Mom had always thought that it was more important to concentrate on my school work than to have a job, and the fact that I never had to want for anything. Even while I was in college, my parents paid me an allowance. I found myself always using this money to foot the bill when I went out with my friends at the bar, but it didn't bother me. I was just thankful to have friends and people that at least pretended that they wanted to be around me.
To say that I was privileged was somewhat of an understatement, but I wouldn't exactly say that I had been spoiled growing up. I didn't especially take advantage of the fact that my parents were wealthy, or that I lived in one of the upper-class suburbs of Chicago. Before college I was a nobody.
It wasn't like the football team was knocking down my door to come have a party at my house. When I said I didn't have friends before college, I meant it. So every friend that I made in college mattered. And that's why I actually started to get excited about Brittany's company, which I didn't think would matter to me. I made it my secret mission to give her a full makeover by the end of the summer…even though she spent the whole day refusing to let me pluck her eyebrows.
"Well, they would have asked you to maybe not wear your pants so low that you can see your underwear." She giggled, so I threw the halter top at her.
"Hey! I had just woken up, give me a break!"
"It’s not like any of the boys are going to be able to stop gawking at you anyways. A pretty blonde girl from Chicago, you could probably walk in wearing a paper sack and they would be happy." Brittany looked down at her hands as she said that.
I could tell she had some self-esteem issues. She didn't grow up like I did with a mother who had used every wrinkle cream and makeup product ever made. She grew up with Aunt Dee, a woman whose idea of a facial was when she got mud on her face from working in the garden.
"Well, I mean, I’m sure you have to have a boyfriend." I picked up a pair of kitten heels and set them aside. "This town isn't big enough for you not to."
"Well there is this one guy..." She peered out the window.
"Well, tell me about him!" I hit her with a tank top to draw her attention back to me.
"He's not my boyfriend though!" she squealed defensively. "I mean he's probably the hottest guy in the parish, but he's definitely not my boyfriend."
"Well, what's he like?" I pushed. "Will he be there tonight?"
She twiddled her thumbs in her lap. "I guess. He usually doesn't miss a party."
"So we know he's a partier. That could be a good thing." I held up a jean skirt, a possibility, and set it next to the heels.
"Well he's not just a partier. He’s your age, and he already has a job working for the highway department. So he looks really good without his shirt on from working outside all day. Sometimes I make Grandma take the long way home from school just so I can see him."
I smiled as I saw a genuine look of happiness on Brittany's face. She had a crush, but not a crush on any guy I would ever go for. A road crew guy? Ew. But none the less, I was going to try and make her look hot for him at this party tonight.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" she asked after she went on for what seemed like forever about the road crew guy, Blaine, who I could have probably told you his whole life story by then.
"It’s kind of on-again, off-again." I bit my lip and sat down on the bed next to Brittany.
"So is he your boyfriend or is he not?" Brittany looked at me for an answer.
That was a hard one to answer. The last time I saw Beau was at school, and we had gotten in a fight because he said he was just helping a
Mom had always thought that it was more important to concentrate on my school work than to have a job, and the fact that I never had to want for anything. Even while I was in college, my parents paid me an allowance. I found myself always using this money to foot the bill when I went out with my friends at the bar, but it didn't bother me. I was just thankful to have friends and people that at least pretended that they wanted to be around me.
To say that I was privileged was somewhat of an understatement, but I wouldn't exactly say that I had been spoiled growing up. I didn't especially take advantage of the fact that my parents were wealthy, or that I lived in one of the upper-class suburbs of Chicago. Before college I was a nobody.
It wasn't like the football team was knocking down my door to come have a party at my house. When I said I didn't have friends before college, I meant it. So every friend that I made in college mattered. And that's why I actually started to get excited about Brittany's company, which I didn't think would matter to me. I made it my secret mission to give her a full makeover by the end of the summer…even though she spent the whole day refusing to let me pluck her eyebrows.
"Well, they would have asked you to maybe not wear your pants so low that you can see your underwear." She giggled, so I threw the halter top at her.
"Hey! I had just woken up, give me a break!"
"It’s not like any of the boys are going to be able to stop gawking at you anyways. A pretty blonde girl from Chicago, you could probably walk in wearing a paper sack and they would be happy." Brittany looked down at her hands as she said that.
I could tell she had some self-esteem issues. She didn't grow up like I did with a mother who had used every wrinkle cream and makeup product ever made. She grew up with Aunt Dee, a woman whose idea of a facial was when she got mud on her face from working in the garden.
"Well, I mean, I’m sure you have to have a boyfriend." I picked up a pair of kitten heels and set them aside. "This town isn't big enough for you not to."
"Well there is this one guy..." She peered out the window.
"Well, tell me about him!" I hit her with a tank top to draw her attention back to me.
"He's not my boyfriend though!" she squealed defensively. "I mean he's probably the hottest guy in the parish, but he's definitely not my boyfriend."
"Well, what's he like?" I pushed. "Will he be there tonight?"
She twiddled her thumbs in her lap. "I guess. He usually doesn't miss a party."
"So we know he's a partier. That could be a good thing." I held up a jean skirt, a possibility, and set it next to the heels.
"Well he's not just a partier. He’s your age, and he already has a job working for the highway department. So he looks really good without his shirt on from working outside all day. Sometimes I make Grandma take the long way home from school just so I can see him."
I smiled as I saw a genuine look of happiness on Brittany's face. She had a crush, but not a crush on any guy I would ever go for. A road crew guy? Ew. But none the less, I was going to try and make her look hot for him at this party tonight.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" she asked after she went on for what seemed like forever about the road crew guy, Blaine, who I could have probably told you his whole life story by then.
"It’s kind of on-again, off-again." I bit my lip and sat down on the bed next to Brittany.
"So is he your boyfriend or is he not?" Brittany looked at me for an answer.
That was a hard one to answer. The last time I saw Beau was at school, and we had gotten in a fight because he said he was just helping a
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