winter's tale
-
-
-
-
Carefully, Serena took a practice step, not feeling that balanced with the mandatory high heels, which wrapped up to her ankle with a pretty black ribbon, while her hands were busy holding two light plates of buttered croissants.
L'Amour, a popular tourist attraction the inside being decorated beautifully for high paying tourists who for one night acted like they were all that (the phony handbags usually gave them away), while the real good seats were outside, with the killer view of the night sky, and the garden below. Surprisingly, L'Amour had gained immortality in being a hotspot after a main model for Lindon's Modeling Agency was proposed to in the courtyard.
The gorgeous blond looked like a model, with her silvery blond hair, and shocking blue eyes neither dark nor light, and a rare smile. The girl was in every way a model in disguise as a waitress, sans the grace. The black and white clad staff, through a string of connections, and a schedule, was able to keep track on the waitress. So far, she broke nothing.
Right. Left. Right. Left.
Serena's mind chanted, she looked down at the impossibly thin heels again. How the hell does Lena walk in these? Lena, the regular waitress was out sick, and Serena, being the greeter; she was the only one available to take over Lena's shift.
The blond waitress set the croissants at the table, then she brushed away a short strand of silvery hair away from her face. She walked away quickly, hearing vaguely behind her back the couple mutter something about a "rude waitress." No tip from them...
"Serena," a coworker mouthed, pointing over to the table that overlooked the manmade pond, sitting under the starry skies outside the restaurant. "That table..." Serena frowned slightly, she had a problem walking straight in heels over flat ground, now she had to act graceful while walking over a cobblestone path?
Sighing, Serena rubbed her temples, looking warily at the table again. The family, from afar, gave off that, we're-More-Important-Than-You vibe. Grabbing a quick tray of mineral water, Serena walked down the pathway of impending doom.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Her mind repeated over and over. Reaching the table, she quickly put the tray down. She smiled charmingly, a curling strand of blond hair falling in front of her sapphire eyes, her face glowing beneath the full moon and lights. "Bienvenue au restaurant, L'Amour." The standard French phrase found a way to roll off of Serena's Japanese tongue easily. She handed them the menus.
Idly, through the corners of her eyes, Serena could notice the mother, most likely a woman from old money, stare at her furtively, her lips pressed into a thin line, while she stared nonchalantly at something in the distance. The mother that has nothing without her money, not even a husband if she were poor... The woman's husband was rudely talking on a cell phone, talking in rapid Japanese.
"Gomen," he whispered to Serena quickly, forgetting his English. "No, not you!" Serena caught.
"Ie gimon," Serena replied as rapidly, silently snickering as both the husband and wife stared at her awwed. The guy turned of his cell phone apologetically, straightening out his suit. A business lawyer that hit it big time in a law firm...
The little girl tugged at Serena's black skirt quickly, then was pulled back by her mother's firm hand, icy blue eyes glowed childishly beneath stray raven curls as she quietly snickered at a quick face Serena made. And the cute little girl. Inwardly, the blond smiled gleefully, she won the bet again.
Tradition among the staff at L'Amour called that waiters guessed what the families they'd be serving prior were like. Amazingly, the klutz had unimaginable luck.
"Oh," the woman said, wrinkling her nose, waving a hand so that her engagement ring, with the rock-big diamond was shoved in front of Serena's face, she gestured to the wine. "The wine tastes horrible, it's warm. Has it been out here too long? Anyways, take it back, and bring back another round, chilled this time."
Serena swore silently, piling the four wine glasses onto the platter, moving away silently.
Left. Right. Left. Left...?
Serena's stiletto-clad foot got stuck in one of the loose cobblestones, the heel barely seen.
"Fuck," she muttered beneath her breath, as she tried to lift her feet again, but to no avail. Again she lifted her foot again, harder so that she swayed slightly. Nothing.
Shifting the plate of wine to her right hand, Serena bent down slightly, the wine swishing precariously in the crystal glasses. Her left hand holding onto her ankle, she pulled. She smiled slightly, shifting the tray of...broken glass...?
Oh shit.
Snapping her head quickly, the blond saw one thing in front of her. An Armani suit... which had one biiigggg red stain... a wine stain. Reaching into the back pocket, the waitress pulled out a monogrammed napkin, not daring to meet eyes with the, most-likely, millionaire that she spilled wine on, she kept on dabbing the stain.
"I'm sooo sorry," Serena muttered, her eyes downcast while stray strands of blond hair were in front of her eyes. "I'll fine some way to pay for your suit, sir."
"Like hell you can," a bottle-blond (the brown roots were obvious) sneered, her protruding, squinty eyes glared at Serena, said former brunette, shifted a Gucci handbag to the side so that it got engulfed by her meat-like arm. Obviously an assistant. "Do you know who you spilled wine over? I'll give you a clue, Rick Lindon..."
Holy crap.
Frighteningly, Serena looked up to the guy, yes, the same cool grey eyes and spiked up auburn hair. She seriously felt like crying.
"You know, say the word, Rick, I'll get the waitress fired."
Rick looked at the girl again, slowly; he bent down a little, cupping the girl's face, his thumb running over her clear complexion, the soft skin. Staring at her broken sapphire eyes he stood up again, pulling something from his breast pocket. A business card.
"It doesn't matter," he waved off the aghast assistant again. Handing Serena the card, he slowly walked away, letting the actions sink in to Serena's head.
"Call me sometime," he said over his shoulder. His assistant gave Serena a dirty look. "I'll make you famous."
-
-
-
-
-
Two years.
Two years of a glamorous life. Paparazzi following her like dogs, taking pictures as if they were gold (although it was worth gold). Breathe taking smiles given at celebrity parties, each smile worth something. Forced feelings for every occasion. Admirers sending wondrous gifts to her doorstep, while in the end, it ended up in a charity bin, modest Serena unwilling to keep it.
Serena really needed the vacation to Tokyo.
Out of the corner of her eyes Serena took a look at the rose that was in a crystal vase, several petals fell in a black pool around it, while the single rose bloomed scarlet. The simple picture was the easiest way to explain the modeling business; you were either at the top, the blooming rose that caught the eye, or the black petals that surrounded it, the models that gave off beauty to the top model.
Two seemingly endless years spent as the world famous Serene, the model famous for her cold persona, rather than being Serena, the flaxen-haired beauty with the innocent eyes. People do change in time.
Feeling the limo arrive at a steady stop, Serena looked down at her outfit. Yes, no one would recognize her in the oldest, jeans she owned, and the rather plain, but on really close inspection, expensive, white halter top, the only thing that would really give Serena out was her not so subtle, aluminum brushed watch, and maybe the cobra print boots that were hidden beneath the jeans..
"Arigato," Serena muttered quickly said to the driver, the Japanese words foreign on her English accent.
Giving the driver a quick, dazzling smile, Serena looked up at the tall towering buildings that reflected that light in a beautiful way. The people that were talking rapidly, moving place to place. Serena looked again at the skyline towards her right, seeing the looming Tokyo tower in the distance.
The sights, the sounds, the smells.
She'd temporarily lived in Paris, New York, Madrid, Barcelona, had vacationed to the world's most beautiful islands. Call it cheesy, but the tiniest part of Serena's frozen heart liked to consider Tokyo home.
-
-
-
-
-
Note: It's Star, yes, I'm the one that types up the story, GG comes up with plotlines, helps me deal with the characters, gives me ideas on how to make them realistic, and well, is the Beta. Anyways, here is the rewrite of the prologue. I know, GG responded to reviews saying that I will finish the first chapter in a week... HAHAHAHA... Anyways, expect chapter one tomorrow... gomenasai everyone...
Ie gimon: No problem.
Gomen:Sorry
Arigato:Thank you.