"What do you mean 'it's cancelled'?" I yelled at the sales assistant, who winced as she handed me back my credit card and pushed the rabbit skin coat under the counter.

"I'm sorry Madame, but we can't accept your card."

I let out a small scream and tried to break the card in half, only succeeding in cutting my index finger on the sharp plastic.

"Can you please clam down, or we shall have to ask you to vacate the premises." The woman tried to tell me.

"Fine! I don't need the damn coat anyway." I tried to flounce out of the shop, with my head held high, only to walk into a mannequin display. Arms, legs and designer scarves went flying everywhere. I stood up quickly and attempted to tidy myself and the display up, hoping no one had noticed. I heard a loud guffaw come from behind me.

I turned around and pushed my hair out of my face, ready to take on whoever had dared to laugh at the great Eleanor Florintino – Parkes.

"Nell. You can't go anywhere without drawing attention to yourself, can you?" Christopher D'Amico smirked.

I ignored this, and instead noticed that there was no hulking bodyguard around, "No babysitter I see. Why's that?"

I saw him falter slightly, then I realised what I had said. Chris dad had died six months ago, my family and myself and attended the funeral. It was a flashy affair, Frank D'Amico definitely went out with a bang. I didn't speak to Chris that day, didn't particularly want to, but he looked dead inside. Dead, and very angry.

"I'm 18 years old. Dad isn't here to order his men around ." He pushed his dark hair back of his forehead, I could see I had hit a nerve.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"S'ok." His arrogance returned, "Heard that you are living on your own."

"Yeah. I wanted some independence." I said casually, like it was nothing.

His smile broadened, "Dad still paying for your credit card? Very independent."

I frowned and started to leave the shop, getting sick of his bullshit. However Chris decided to follow me.

"He cancelled it. If you must know." I said over my shoulder, fishing my car keys out of my hand-bag, "Don't you have some designer suits to buy rather than bother me."

Chris stopped and stared at my bright red Ferrari. He whistled, impressed, it was flashy even by his standards, "When did you get that?"

"My 18th birthday present from daddy." I said simply, before realising how stupid that sounded.

Chris just cracked up laughing again as I got in the car, "No matter what you do Nell, you'll always be Daddy's Little Princess."

I pushed my oversized sunglasses on over my eyes and started the car, "Whatever." I muttered, driving off.

That had been one of the few times I had spoken to Chris since the funeral, he had definitely changed.

My father and his father had been good friends. Frank D'Amico had helped my father gain his position as the Chief of Police. Everyone knew it was shady, but I didn't mind as long as it kept me in lip-gloss and designer high heels. Chris and I had played together as children, but we never really got on well. He used to pull the heads off my dolls and in return I would stomp all over his modelling clay figures of Batman and the Joker. We always got them replaced though. Our dad's would fork out for new toys, and so we both played, spoilt little rich kids together.

As we got older we grew apart, but up until Frank's death, I had always known Chris to be moderately polite, charming and slightly geeky. Ok, very geeky.

Now he was different, there was a glimmer of hate in his eyes and his smiles and laughter always had a hit of bitterness to them. He struts around the fashionable parts of New York, playing the big man now he had inherited everything his father had owned. Just before I moved out and into my new apartment, (that I paid for with my own money, might I add), Chris' mother visited us and I overheard her telling my mum that she was worried about him, "I don't know him anymore," she said, "He goes out at night and doesn't come back until early morning."

I didn't think too much about that part. He's the richest teenager in the city, of course he's going to go out! Splash the cash, have sex and take drugs, it's all part of the deal of being Chris D'Amico.

I pulled up outside my apartment building and stared up at it, proud. Ok, I didn't own the whole building but I bought my part of it with my own money which made me feel like I had achieved something in my short life. However, it also meant me having to work as a waitress in a greasy-spoon café to try and make ends meet.

My home wasn't as luxurious as I was used to, but it certainly wasn't cheap. My neighbours were mainly students and young families who were all very civil and wouldn't kick your door in or vandalise your car like some of the other apartment buildings in town.

The minute I got in, I was on the phone to my father.

"Daddy! How could you do this? You knew I needed that card. It's not fair Daddy! When Francine moved out, her parents didn't cancel her card! Why me?" I paced up and down my bedroom, phone pressed to my ear and growing close to tears.

"Darling! Calm down1 When you said that you wanted to be completely independent I thought that mean you wanted to pay for your own things as well. It's all about making a commitment darling!"

"You could have least have told me! It was so embarrassing. I can't go back to that shop ever again! And Chris D'Amico was there!"

"Oh Chris was there, was he? How is he? Did you ask how everything was?" he was getting off topic, this conversation was supposed to be about me, not flipping Chris D'Amico.

"Daddy!" I snapped

"Sorry petal. I'm not getting you a new credit card. You mother agrees, if you're going to do this, you have to do it properly. Sure you've got that job haven't you? Trust me Nell, this time next month you'll have forgotten all about silly designer coats."

"DADDY!" I screamed, stamping my foot, but he had already hung up, "They are not silly."

I glanced up at the clock and realised that I was late for work. "Shit!" I gasped, throwing my uniform on and grabbing my bag.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I got in my car and drove as fast as I could to Deep Fat Friar's where I worked the evening shift.

"You're late" stated Big Al, the manager, blocking my entrance to the bar.

I put my hands up in a defensive manner, "I know, but I'm here now. I had a bit of a problem with-"

"I don't give a damn what you had a problem with. You've only worked here for a month and you're never out of trouble. Happens again and you're out! Now get over there and start serving."

I sighed, knowing that arguing would get me sacked. I spent the next hour taking orders from angry truckers and tired parents with hyper-active children. I was getting more agitated as the evening went on as it became more crowded.

"Mom! I feel sick." One child winged as I tried to clear their table.

His mother lit a cigarette, "Maybe if you stopped jumping around…"

"I need ice-cream!" he started to squeal. What a spoilt child I thought, wiping up spilt ketchup.

"Sweetie" his mother touched my arm, "Could you bring him some strawberry-"

"CHOCOLATE!"

"…Ok, chocolate ice cream?"

I went to reply, when the boy opened his mouth and emptied the contents of his stomach all over me, the table and the floor. I stopped, completely stunned.

The child looked up at me and began laughing, giggling his little ass off.

I'd had enough, "What exactly is so funny you little shit?" I screamed.

The whole restaurant went silent and his mother looked stunned. I felt a rough hand pull me into the kitchens. It was Big Al.

"What do you think you're doing? Get out!" he roared, his face bright purple.

I didn't know what to think, "What about my pay?"

"Your pay? You're lucky those people don't have you for assault! OUT!" he pointed in the direction of the back door.

I drove home as fast as I could, but I didn't get out of the car straight away.

"What now?" I said out loud.

I stood behind the curtain, listening to the thumping music and the cheers of the audience. I bit my lip, I was shaking and very nervous. I couldn't believe what I was about to do.

A girl half dressed as a police woman, covering her bare chest came running off, past me. I heard her whisper good luck as she went to get dressed.

"And now" I heard the announcer shout, "put your hands together for Lusty Valentine!"

Lusty Valentine? What sort of name is that? I thought as I walked on to the dark stage. The lights went up and Filthy/Gorgeous began to play.

I got the stripping job a few days after my being fired from Deep Fat Friars. It really was a final resort as I had not proper qualifications. I spent most of my private schooling life at parties and with boys. I would die off if anyone found out what I was doing for money/

The men shouted and cheered as I twisted my body in time to the music, thanking whoever was up there that my costume included a mask. I strutted closer to the audience and wound my hips before ripping the Velcro-attached skirt off, provoking more cheers. Someone put a twenty dollar bill on the stage. I put it in my cleavage, beginning to enjoy myself. I bent down and more money was tucked into my g-string and corset top.

Feeling daring and liking the attention, I got down off the stage and into the audience, I danced with several members before moving closer to the back where the more wealthy spectators sat. I did a mini lap dance for one then I spotted someone sitting with a bodyguard behind them. I couldn't see who they were because of the light and shadows across their face, but I knew that he was the richest person there.

I straddled their lap and wound my body against theirs and placed my top hat on their head. As the chorus reached a climax they push a handful of fifties into my cleavage. Just then I ripped the mask of my face for the finale and the person froze. A bright light went across their face, and I thought I was going to vomit.

It was Chris D'Amico.