Confessions

A fiction by moondocc

Rated T/Genre Humor/Romance

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Chapter 02- Rich People Always Hang Together

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I am too mad to be going home. Too, too mad. After getting sexually assaulted by Mr. Teen-beat and having to pretend that it never happened I simply do not have the face to show up in my apartment and look at my spoiled cat. I know, I know, it's a bloody cat! Who cares? But Kero, that little fat thirty-pound animal who cannot walk straight because of too much fat preventing mobility, makes me feel guilty with those little tiny eyes that stick out from nowhere.

Stupid cat! I should have gotten a dog.

What to do, what to do? I contemplate the possibilities in my mind as I start the engine of my car. It's a very, very old car—an '86 Beetle that looks like it's been beat up by one of those monster trucks on TV. Poor, poor car. It can't be blamed anyway, for I am a horrible driver. Its beat-up appearance was all propelled by me and my victims, but mainly me, because I refuse to fix it.

Come on! The car is twenty years old! It will be going out of fashion in another…ten, twenty years! What's the use of fixing it? Well, I have to admit it looks clean and everything, because to me, appearance is everything (ignore the occasional bumps and dents here and there).

I exit out of the company parking lot and began to roam Thrushcross Avenue while still sorting out what I needed to do for the week. I've already done the laundry (I had to, the clothes were starting to smell bad), the groceries (I swallow down a lot of food, mind you), and picked up the movie of the week (Pride and Prejudice, because I love the story so—Elizabeth Bennett is one of the most frightful, yet stunning characters in the history of book-writing, which probably dates back all the way to Mesopotamia, with Epic of Gilgamesh—why am I giving you a history lesson?), so naturally, there is nothing else left to do.

Just then, as if on cue, my cell phone began to ring. My ring tone is "Are you gonna be my girl?" which, as most of you know (and if you don't, I admire you very much), gets very annoying after a while.

"Sakura?"

I had just the chance to press the talk button and lay my eyes on the road again. I am steering with one hand. Oh the dread of me getting into another accident is starting to scare me. "Tomoyo?"

Tomoyo is my best friend and my best consult at times like this. She's got the body of a professional .007 assassin, the perfect curves here and there and the most beautiful amethyst eyes and raven hair. No, no, I'm not hitting on my best friend. It's just that, after being her friend since we were toddlers, I'm getting pretty good at memorizing the lines used to describe her spoken by all the guys that have ever dated her. Pretty, pretty good.

"Sakura! Are you going to the company dinner next week?" She asks urgently. I wonder what's wrong. Again I try to focus on the road, but with Kanye West in the background slurring dirty words I can't help but not pay attention to the road (Do record companies do this on purpose? Do they purposely try to kill off fans who listen to their signed singers by getting them into car accidents?).

"Yes, yes I am." I tell her immediately. Daidouji Tomoyo works in the marketing department as a secretary to the hottest bachelor of the company—Hiiragizawa Eriol. But since they're both dating different people, I guess the chance of them getting together (liked the clichéd boss-and-secretary-relationship) is out of the question. They would look cute together though. If I had the body of Tomoyo and the mind of a seductress/prostitute I'd totally go for Hiiragizawa. But since I have the body of a large, furry rat and the mind of a kid with Down Syndrome, I'm opting for the other options out there.

"Have you gotten your dress yet?" She asks next.

I step on the breaks in the middle of the Thrushcross Avenue and scream "SHIT!" Thankfully there are no other cars behind me or in front of me, or else I would have had severe consequences on account of my random impulse.

"I take that as a 'no'?" I felt Tomoyo sweat-drop on the other end. "Want to go shopping together?"

I press gas again and drive on smoothly. "Pick you up right now?" I offer. Tomoyo murmured a "yes" and hung up. I sigh. Geez, how could I have forgotten? The company dinner is next week and all of the business departments must attend it. It's an either-you-attend-or-we'll-fire-your-sorry-ass kind of situation. Ten minutes later, I stop outside of Tomoyo's apartment building and she stepped inside.

"Let's say…Princess Mall?"

I nod my head in agreement. It was only called Princess Mall because the late princess Yumiko Hashana bought it as her own private sanctuary. On days when it closes for the public is when her highness goes crazy and shopping-spree-y. When we arrived there twenty minutes later, that was exactly the scenario that I had just described.

I curse in front of the curb. Tomoyo joins me in my cries of desperation and anger, but she does not curse. Instead, she walks up to the doorman and bats her eyelashes. "May we go in?"

The doorman shook his head. Tomoyo pouts and converses with him for ten more minutes before she gestured me to come with her. In my glee I jogged up next to her, receiving a very weird glare from said doorman.

"What did you say to him?" I ask her.

"Oh, I flattered him a bit and offered to give him my phone number if he lets me in," she smiled discreetly. I nod in understanding. Nobody could resist not having the phone number of one of those Lila Delores's.

"Where shall we go for a dress, Sakura?" She askes me kindly. Well, my favorite stores are Express and bebe, not that either one has anything that actually…fits me. Last resort? Versace. Not that Versace sells nice, black dresses (black makes me look skinnier, damn it) that come in size L, but they usually have gorgeous gowns that cost a fortune (it's not like I have a family to feed, although Kero does fill for the appetite of three grown adults), but hey, this is my day to spoil myself, especially after encountering that stupid…Mr. Li and his sexual assaults towards yours truly's butt.

Tomoyo and I walk into Versace feeling rich and glamorous. She takes a look at a purple dress with black flower patterns while I walk around the store, eyeing the dresses on display most appreciably. I look at the tag of a random dress on the shelf. Seven hundred dollars. Interesting.

The saleslady stopped in front of me and held her head back in a rude manner, "Are you looking for a dress here?" she scoffs.

"Yes," I answer plainly, "I have a company dinner to attend next week, and I would really like a black dress for the occasion."

"Are you important in anyway?" She asks boldly.

I draw back. "Is that really any of your business? I mean, do you keep a record book of who's important and who isn't?"

The saleslady seemed surprised by my answer. She walked over to one of the racks and picked out a dress and held it up for me to see. To say in the least it was hideous. The monotony of black matched with silky silver lining was a complete disaster. And the size was obviously one size too large. It was as if the saleslady was mocking my weight. To which, for clarification, I am not that overweight. Just a little bit. A little bit.

Thirty pounds is nothing, right?

Tomoyo walked over to me and wrapped the purple dress around her body. "What do you think?"

"It looks really nice," I smile. It was the truth. Tomoyo looks good in anything and everything. "Should I buy it? She bites her lip and pins her eyes together. "How much is it?" I ask.

"It's four hundred dollars. Not that bad for Versace." She looks at the dress again before walking up to the mirror and twirling it around.

"Go try it on," I tell her kindly as she smiled and stepped into the changing room. I sigh, and starts walking around aimlessly again, looking at the various dresses in this expensive, rip-off store.

Just when I reach for the black dress with crimson petals on it someone's voice cut through. Startled, the dress falls to the floor, allowing the saleslady to scoff at me again.

The high voice ran along something like this: "What are you doing here?"

Picking up the dress I turn around and almost immediately gasp. Standing before my eyes is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She has straight black hair which she fashioned into a ponytail, and big, chocolate brown eyes, skin as flawless as the surface of my iPod (ok, bad comparison), and is dressed in a sporty fashion, with a jacket from Hollister and bebe sweatpants.

But her voice is unbelievably annoying.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

She seems to scoff at my stupidity. Just then two men walked into the store, one shouting, "Yumiko, let's go somewhere else," but froze when he saw me, and repeated the same dumb question the gorgeous girl standing before me had uttered, "what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," I say intelligently.

Before me, Mr. Teen-beat/Boss's son stands fully erect, dressed in an A/X t-shirt and bleached jeans. Next to him, another man more well-dressed, in a Burberry suit and black tie, stands Hiiragizawa Eriol, Tomoyo's boss.

"Apparently, Syaoran, she has no idea who I am," the girl called "Yumiko" say haughtily to said man next to her. Oh, so that is his name! Yep, not as romantic as Damon Williams. I guess they must change his name when they make him into a celebrity.

Syaoran laughed heartily at this while Hiiragizawa elbowed him. He let out a soft groan as Hiiragizawa smiled and stretched out his hand. "Hi, Hiiragizawa Eriol. You're Kinomoto Sakura, am I correct?"

I almost tumble over. How could someone as handsome and as dashing as Eriol Hiiragizawa possibly know someone like me, a Level I accountant in a mega-billion company? Yumiko turned over to him with a disgusting expression of her face, "You know her?"

Eriol ignored her and continued to smile at me. "Don't worry, Miss Kinomoto. I know the names of every single one of our business department employees. Your resumes all pass through me when you first apply, as well as your pictures!" he explained. I sigh out of comfort.

"Sakura, what do you think?" All eyes shift to the girl standing in the center of the almost-empty store as Tomoyo clasped her hand over her mouth (in a very lady-like way). She blushed at the sight of the four of us looking up and down at her like that. I'd say that the men of this situation were very, very satisfied with her looks while the women were split in half. Yumiko bore a jealous expression on her face, presumably from seeing her friends Eriol and Syaoran so taken in awe by another beauty. I was very, very happy that she decided to invade upon us at this precise moment, because this Yumiko character was disturbing me greatly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tomoyo apologized quickly and rushed back into the dressing room again. She really didn't need to do that, for I think Syaoran and Eriol (Syaoran, especially) were very disappointed that she had left so early. Yumiko, for one, was both glad and angry.

"Who is that girl?" She inquired audaciously.

"My friend, Daidouji Tomoyo," I offer to answer. Yumiko snorted at me arrogantly. "I didn't know commoners could afford this store." Eriol looked displeased at her comment and mouthed a quick "sorry". Mr. Li couldn't look less interested.

"Let's go, Syaoran, Eriol," Yumiko turned to her friends, "I don't want to be stuck in a place where commoners shop. I didn't even know they were allowed in on my special day."

"Yes, I didn't think they were allowed, either," I heard Syaoran chime in with an air of superiority. Eriol turned around silently and waved me goodbye. I watch them leave, feeling completely humiliated.

The saleslady walked up to me, her face distorted in a rather ugly expression. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, miss. You have just chased away one of our biggest shoppers. I'll let your friend buy her dress, but after that, we hope we will never see you or your friend again."

I stare at the saleslady as if she was crazy. "What, that teenager?"

"That teenager, which she's not, is Yumiko Hashana, the princess of Japan, the owner of this mall. Now please, leave." The saleslady waved to me. Tomoyo had just finished purchasing her dress, and walked up to me and asked, "What was that all about?"

"Rich people always hang together," was my reply.

I think I lost my appetite in shopping today. Having been insulted like that. Apparently, four hours and thirty-six minutes later, going through all the stores at Princess Mall and ending up with blisters on my feet, I still have no dress. I did end up with a few sports outfits though, all from bebe sports and Hollister of course.

And I purchasing sports outfits do not have anything to do with Princess Yumiko Hashana.

Just want to clarify.

Third person point of view.

The doorman gleefully dials the number written on a piece of paper by the gorgeous girl who had left it four hours ago. He presses the numbers one by one, each with growing anticipation. He pressed his ear to his cell phone as it rang. It ran exactly three times.

"Hello, you have reached the Rejection Hotline. If you have been given this number, it means the person who gave you this number does not wish to have any contact with you, and that means that you are a loser, the worst kind of loser in the world, and in the future, please do not ask for numbers again. Goodbye, you worthless idiot."

Then, the automated answer machine hung up on him. The doorman stared at his cell phone for a few seconds before throwing it on the ground and shouting, "Hot damn."

moondocc: How did you guys like this chapter :D This is a very, very lovely story to write! It's so happy! Sakura is a lot like me, and all the stores described here are my favorite stores (esp. Hollister!) well, except for Versace (which I'm too cheap to afford, and as Sakura said, a complete 'rip-off').

Anyway, the relationship between Eriol-Syaoran-Yumiko will be described in the next chapter or so (maybe, if I ever get to the dinner). Oh, and there's no ExT in this story, or I don't know… I'm very confident that there won't be ExT in this story since I'm just borrowing Eriol for a far greater purpose. As you guys can see, you probably know what that purpose is ;P

Please review! Because if you actually get through this chapter (and esp. if you're planning to add it to your alerts/favorites/whatever) then I would very much like to hear what you think. Or else I won't update as much. Thank you.

Also, i changed the title of the story to Confessions which sounds so much more sophisticated 8-)