New York was a quite the scene in summer. It was bustling with tourists and sound, the honking of cars filling the streets and driving the shop owners crazy. It was behind the Tiffany store where a man, lurking behind a fern, scuttled around and took a rather unflattering picture of a certain auburn haired girl.

She was dressed inconspicuously, maroon zip up sweater tight around her slim figure, and her jeans blending into the concrete streets. Her large almost bug-like sunglasses protected her from staring eyes. Little did she know, but she was about to be on the front page of the New Yorker, along with the caption: "Massie Block, Socialite Gone Wild, Spotted in Hometown!"

Ridiculous, but that was the tabloids and that was their job.

Massie walked silently up the steps to her apartment in Avalon White Plains, located in Westchester County, New York. Her hangover would be the death of her, her head was pounding harder than the time her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Derrick Harrington, had beat up a bouncer. A fond smile graced her lips as she remembered the good times with Derrick. The good times were mostly made up of clubbing and drinking, but whatever, they had an alright relationship.

In fact, last night they'd had the best of times. She couldn't wait to tell her best friend Alicia what they'd done. Of all the socialites in Westchester, Alicia was most like her. They loved the parties, the drinking, and the scandals that they caused. Boring Kristen Gregory was the girl Massie's mother would have liked her to be.

Kristen wore white. She was smart, she was studying law and she always showed up to the Block's dinner parties sober. Not like Alicia that one year, but we'll get into that another time.

Anyway, as the socialite in question turned the knob and pushed open the mahogany wood door an awful sight greeted her. A million swear words were at the tip of her tongue when she spotted Kendra Block perched on one of her nice white leather dinner seats. Why in Hell was her mother there? Clenching and re-clenching her fist, she raised her voice a couple octaves and simpered.

"Mother," she cooed.

"Don't mother me," the lady snapped, getting to her feet and assessing her daughter. "You look like a hoodlum."

"Mother," Massie's block took a slight whine to it. She was 22! An adult!

"What will your father think when news of this reaches him?" The older woman bristled in anger and embarrassment her daughter had caused them.

"What?" Massie asked.

"Look. At. This."

There was poison in her mother's throat as she flung forward a newspaper Massie hadn't noticed. She scanned the first page. Right. There was her name. In size 72 font. Accompanied with some attached pictures. Oh fuck.

Ah yes, the lovely pictures portrayed a well beyond drunk Massie, puking into a toilet at a Soho club she couldn't care to remember. Another was her and Derrick in a very handsy make out session. What excuses could she use this time? The last picture was icing on the cake. There she was, a shoe raised over her head, threatening another girl who was plastered to the ground.

Unfortunately, Massie remembered being shitfaced enough to do that. A strand of red flashed through her mind and she was suddenly filled with an immense anger. Dylan Marvil. That was who the girl was. She had been trying to steal Derrick from under her nose when she took measures into her own hands. She could be the daughter of a famous TV host, but that didn't give her the right to steal Massie's boyfriend. Besides, she'd only slapped the girl once and she was lucky Massie had been wearing flats that day.

"Explain yourself. I honestly do not understand how any daughter of mine could make a fool out of me like this," Kendra sniffed.

"Well, Mother, it was quite easy. I got a little tipsy," Massie paused as her mother blustered over the word 'little', "and she was totally asking for it."

"You know," her mother stepped away from her and analyzed the grown adult woman in front of her. She shook her head, "I really thought you'd make me proud one day."

With that, Kendra Block flounced out the door, leaving an exhausted Massie. At the sound of the door slamming the girl grabbed the newspaper and began to tear it up, her nails scratching and ripping at the offensive article. Jesus, couldn't a girl do anything without being tailed? Sighing she left the discarded pieces where they lay and retreated to her bedroom. She'd get her cleaning help to do it in the morning.

g

"What's that sound?" The rich old lady asked the rich old man sleeping beside her in their rich house.

He snorted, and turned away, trying to go back to bed. The rich old lady rose and tiptoed to the window. She peered through it. It was their next door neighbour again – that Massie Block. And, well, she was screaming at the top of her lungs. So that was the source of the high pitched caterwauling she was experiencing.

"Young lady, it is 6 AM in the morning!" The rich old lady opened the window and yelled.

Massie stopped screaming to yell back. "Fuck off!"

In all fairness the young woman was really having a, pardon my language, shitty day. It started off when she woke up and realized that the Daily Grind, also known as the reality show that Dylan Marvil's mother hosted, was doing a segment on her. Yes, the conniving red head had really decided to step it up after almost being thrashed by Massie.

"Yes," the redhead's mother had said, "Ms. Block is completely out of control. In this picture my own daughter is seen getting beat up by Massie. She had to go into the hospital for medical care and came out with a concussion. Dylan has decided not to press charges as she still believes Massie is a good person at heart."

Oh please, Dylan just didn't want everyone who had actually witnessed the fight to realize she was just a little bitty baby. Massie had snarled and thrown the TV remote to the ground.

And then the key piece to making a shitty morning.

Derrick: I don't think we can stay together.

Yes, her boyfriend had officially dumped her through text message. Derrick Harrington had officially ruined her day and now she was pissed.

Thus, the screaming. And she screamed for a very long time. When she finally stopped she picked up her phone, amazed she hadn't thrown it against the wall in her daze of anger, and texted him what any self respecting adult would.

Massie: fuck you derrick

Then she turned off her phone and finally allowed herself to cry. It was only nine in the morning yet she already felt like getting wasted. Normally that feeling was saved for after talking to a bunch of other boring socialites such as Kristen Gregory or Olivia Ryan.

For some strange reason she knew this had to do with her reputation. Hers was slowly lowering, nearing Lindsay Lohan status, and Derrick did not want to stick around to see what happened to his! Not that he had a clean slate, of course. No boy who had ever dated Massie had a clean slate. The girl was into hardcore, uncaring douches who didn't give a fuck what they did. That was the type she liked, and that was why Derrick and her worked so well together.

And now…she was all alone.

Massie wiped the tears from her eyes and peered into one of the multiple mirrors in her bedroom. She saw a pathetic girl, nothing but clubs and wasted nights and too small dresses.

Well. She was going to fix that.

She decided she would stay out of the lime light, stay on the down low. Massie would fix herself, become the girl her mother had always wanted. Hell, she'd even befriend Kristen Gregory. Just not Dylan. If Massie Block couldn't do it, no one could.

She took a second look into the mirror. Now the girl standing before her was determined, anxious, nervous to get things started. The girl wanted to be invisible. The girl – no, woman – was Massie Block, and shit was about to go down. Except quietly of course, just like Mommy's girl.

/hi everyone i'm back after a lengthy hiatus. please drop a review or a favourite or a follow or even some chips in the box/