From Chex: I'm trying extremely hard to stay on top of updates. This story's moving a tad bit slower than "Trust Me". But no big deal, I guess. So long as I incorporate everything I want. Enjoy chapter three.


Ding-Dong!

Melissa Hamilton jumped at the high-pitched echoing sound that was her doorbell. "That's her!" She raced up the stairs, flung open the door, then tried to appear nonchalant when she greeted Princess. She stood in the doorway, holding a pink duffel bag, clearly designer, with her name monogrammed in large rhinestone letters. Oddly, she was in the same outfit she'd been wearing earlier. Princess normally grabbed at any chance to show of a new outfit she'd bought straight off the runways of Paris. "Hey, we've been waiting for you." Melissa tossed her glossy brown hair and moved clear out of the way as Princess entered, wordless. Her sharp green eyes searched Melissa's home critically, apparently looking for anything to stick her nose up at.

Melissa held her breath, feeling self-conscious, and desperately racked her brain for anything to distract her friend. "Um, is that all your stuff? Is your chauffeur coming back with more?"

Princess scoffed, "God, Melissa. It's just one night. No need to make a production out of it."

The brunette blinked. Since when does she not like to make a production out of something? Princess's history of dramatic entrances to even the smallest of events was very well-known. They usually consisted of limos or helicopters, at least three servants to carry her things or just make her look important, and, on occasion, confetti and trumpeters. (Though she'd grown out of that, for the most part.) Showing up on the Hamilton's doorstep with just a duffel bag and her purse was NOT a standard Princess Entrance.

Not that Melissa would call her on it. "C'mon, the girls are all here." Princess, familiar with the layout of the Hamilton's home, made her way to the stairs that led to the basement.

The entire room was the length and width of the Hamliton's home. Most of Melissa's events took place in the basement since it was carpeted, had a home-theater, mini-fridge, it's own bathroom, and was painted a vibrant yellow that, combined with the teal carpet and assorted colored bean-bag chairs, made the room modernly chic.

The enormous flat-screen was dutifully turned to MTV and five girls had arranged themselves in front of it, flipping through magazines and chatting animatedly.

Princess came to a halt, waiting to be acknowledged. Melissa cleared her throat nervously. Princess is NOT to be ignored. "Guys!" All five heads turned and appreciative squeals went around.

"PRINCESS!!" Abandoning whatever insignificant things they'd been doing, they rushed over to bask in her presence. Princess fought back a smirk. As they gushed over every minor detail of her appearance, she did a head count.

Present company included Kelly Sanders, the bleached-blond chopstick-thin girl whose family owned a successful restaurant in town. After Princess and Melissa, she was the third richest girl in Townsville and the group kiss-ass. Continuing down the food chain, there was also Andretta Price and Nissie Bennett. Their matching dark hair and olive skin made them almost indistinguishable. Andretta's father was a lawyer at a high-standing firm and Nissie's mother was the author of several well-selling self-help books. (The only explanation they could find for why she sometimes spoke like a teen counselor.) And finally, Beth Flores, the group's scapegoat. Her father managed one of the town plants and her mother worked at the local pharmacy. They had enough money, but Beth wasn't as well-off as the rest of them. A fact they constantly made known. Trisha Coows, the group's official gossip, was absent that night.

Princess nodded slightly in approval. She could only associate herself with the best. And while these girls were hardly on her level, they were the best Townsville had to offer her. Melissa was the daughter of two doctors, and therefore the only one suitable for the role of her best friend. She was also second-in-command of the group. Melissa desperately wanted to cut Beth, something Princess never allowed. The group needed to be oddly numbered. Even numbered groups balanced power between the first and second in command, something she was sure Melissa knew. And that was out of the question. Princess needed to be undoubtedly in charge.

Solidly in the center of her group, Princess seated herself in a bean bag chair that no doubt had been someone else's seat only seconds ago. The girl's arranged themselves around her and she pulled her duffel bag close to her side protectively.

In the few hours before her arrival, Princess had spent the remainder of the day preparing for this night. Irritably enough, she'd blown nearly all the money she'd had on her and still hadn't gotten everything she wanted! She'd bought a new silk gown, a sleeping mask, the basic toiletries she'd need, slippers, and the duffel bag she was currently holding. As well as a mini-dress just for the heck of it. Not only that, but the duffel hadn't come in purple, her favorite color. Normally, she'd have one special ordered and shipped from overseas just to meet her needs. But this time she had to settle for pink. And the rhinestoned Princess on the side wasn't even a monogram. Just a generic decoration as unique as Cutie or Baby or the thousands of other mainstream pet names they'd advertised.

Not that anyone needed to know that.

"Ooh! I love those shoes!" Kelly gushed. Sucking up was her specialty, one of Princess's favorite things about her despite the fact that it was slightly annoying and fake sometimes.

Princess flexed her heel, showing off her gold pumps. "Oh, these? Just something I picked up on my trip to England. Just about the only thing too. The shopping there sucked." She leaned back, examining her perfectly manicured nails while her friends hung on her every word. This was where she belonged.

Screw Daddy, she thought for the millionth time that day. He's going to be so sorry he let me go he'll be begging for me to come back in no time. She smirked, completely self-assured. Maybe he's already called. Taking a pause from retelling her trip, she pulled out her iPhone.

No new messages...and no service bars. She frowned. What the hell?

"I've been texting you for, like, ever," Andretta drawled, popping her signature grape gum. "Did you get any of my messages?"

Princess checked her inbox. The most recent messages were from the previous night. "Uh, no."

"What?" Andretta brought out her Palm Pre and the rest of the girls followed suit, checking their own phones. It was an officially unwritten rule that each member of the clique must at least attempt to contact Princess at least twice a day, regardless of whether or not she responded. "See?" she held out her phone, the screen showing recently sent messages, most of which were to Princess. "I totally text you."

"Well, they didn't go through. Clearly there's something wrong with your phone," Princess snapped and Andretta retracted her hand as if she might bite.

"Um, I'll text you right now." Beth quickly sent out a message on her slightly out-of-date Nokia. "There. Did you get that?"

Princess stared at her phone blankly. Nothing.

"Wait, it...it says your number's been disconnected," Beth said. "Did you change it or something?"

A lump formed in her throat. Princess stared at her phone, silently sending out text messages and attempting phone calls. Nothing. Everything bounced back.

She had no service.

Her phone clattered to the ground.

"Um, are you okay?" Nissie asked, attempting to sound gentle but unable to hide how weirded out she was. She picked up the phone. "What's wrong with it?" She started to tap the touch screen.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This SO isn't happening! Princess shook her head stiffly, making her red curls vibrate. "Nothing." She snatched it away from Nissie who squeaked in response. "It's just this stupid basement or something. I'm not getting any reception from down here."

Despite the fact that everyone else was getting perfect reception, no one argued with her. No one argues with Princess if they value their social status.

Her sharp green eyes sought out a victim. She needed someone to chew out. Now. "Beth," she spat. "what did I tell you about doing that to your hair? You look even more boring than usual."

Beth blushed, touching her straight dirty-blond hair that she'd done up in a quick, convenient ponytail, self-consciously. "I-I guess...I wasn't thinking. You're right, it looks awful." She hung her head, ashamed and embarrassed.

Kelly nodded. "I keep telling her. Highlights."

"Right," she sneered. "because they've done wonders for your hair."

Kelly, completely unused to being one of Princess's victims, clamped her mouth shut. An uneasy silence settled over the room. Princess uttered a low throaty sound, practically jumping out of her chair and storming into the bathroom and slamming the door so hard behind her it vibrated.

The familiar anger convulsions she'd been experiencing all day rushed back. Her body shook, her breathing was ragged, and her skin felt uncomfortably clammy. The only thing that kept her from crying out in rage was the fact that her friends were sitting right outside, would hear, and would rush in to find her having a breakdown. Glancing in the mirror, her skin looked drawn and pale. Her eyes, bright green, looked...unsettling. She briefly wondered if she should splash water in her face like they always did in movies, but then remembered her make-up wasn't waterproof.

First my cards....now my phone. That jackass! When he comes to his senses he's going to owe me big time! In the recesses of her mind, a tiny seed of doubt planted itself in her head.

What if he doesn't come to his senses?

She shook her head. Stupid. He has to come to his senses. I'm his only daughter. He wouldn't just kick me out for a woman he's known for a couple of weeks. She laughed nervously. He'll sleep on it and by tomorrow he'll realize how stupid he was. He'll scour the city until he finds me and then he'll bring me home to my newly decorated room with a new cell phone and platinum credit cards. She sighed, calmed by her own fantasies.

Taking another glance in the mirror, her skin had returned to it's normal color and her cheeks had a healthy flush. Quickly she straightened her skirt and touched up her mascara. She marched out of the bathroom, not even registering how her friends hushed as she re-entered, as though she'd been the topic of their conversation. She was perfectly okay now, so nothing else mattered. She even managed a small, triumphant smile as she sat down, one thought racing constantly through her head.

Everything's going to be fine.


From Chex: I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit uneventful. It was partly just a filler. But the next one definitely won't be. I'm trying to be very detailed with this whole story. I see this becoming another lengthy one. As always, I greatly encourage feedback since I desperately need it.