Part Two
I watched, bored, as my step-mother grimaced, picking at her long, manicured nails. It was a wonder how she fonctioned with them. I rolled my eyes and looked away.
I hated waiting. Anyone who kept me waiting was dead to me. What kind of television crew keeps their cast waiting for three hours? This was going to be the worst six months of my life.
"Honey, smile. You look ugly when you pout." my mother yawned, not even bothering to look up at me. I huffed.
"I wouldn't be pouting if they'd just hurry up with this, Ruby. How much does Daddy even have to say?" I whined, and stomped my heel on the floor. The blonde woman with the obnoxious smile was currently interviewing my father on why he had forced me to do this stupid program. Do people really have nothing to do these days? My step-mother was irritating me enough.
"Whatever, have fun, I guess." she cackled and went back to her nails, "We'll miss you." I could tell she didn't mean it by the way she looked at me the way you would look when you finally got rid of something. My mother wasn't my "biological" mom. I called her by her first name, and she didn't express any love for me. My real mother was just one of my father's little games. Making me their little mistake. She died a year after my birth, I'm pretty sure he's already forgot about her. Almost immediately after that, he found "a lovely woman", as he would say when he told me the story. She was the proper She-Devil. We had a destined bad relationship. She didn't really love my father and I didn't really love her. I've learned to just keep my mouth shut and ignore her.
I was about to shoot a rude comment at her when the door bursted open and the previous interviewer and a dozen burly men with massive cameras stalked into the room. She gave me a wide smile. No one is that happy, trust me. I doubted the cameras were on at the moment, but I shot them an ugly look.
"Hi, my name is Carrie Fitzgerald. I'm here on behalf of "The Biggest Brat"? You must be Cecelia Valentino." she spoke quickly and over-exaggerated, her smile never leaving her face.
"That's me." I growled and picked at my manicure like my mother had done to me seconds ago. When I glanced up, she looked at me the same expression as before. No signs of hurt or reluctance.
"Purrrrfect," she said, stretching the 'r' sound, "Could we just ask you some questions?"
"Fine," I sighed, and followed them to the balcony. Inside, I felt the slightest bit nervous. I was used to attention, but I didn't feel comfortable with the fact that this would be broadcast on television.
"Here we have the lovely Cece-" Carrie started as soon as we sat down and the cameras started rolling.
"Cecelia." I corrected in a hiss. No one called me Cece. She nodded and "beamed" at the camera.
"I'm sorry, we're here with Cecelia Valentino, participant number five in the 2013 Biggest Brat competition. We're here to learn more about her." She spoke with flourish into her microphone. How long was this going to be? "So, Cecelia. You're the daughter of the rich V-tino Electronics CEO, Terrence Valentino. You live a luxourious life, is that right?"
"I suppose, yeah. Money means power in this world." I laughed bitterly.
"Exactly correct, Miss. And I've also heard that you're parents are looking for your future husband?"
"Yes," I sighed dramatically, "they feel the need to shoo me off and marry some famous, rich stud." The words tumbled out, and I felt satisfied that my parents' future reactions would be hilarious.
"Is that right?" Carrie, put a bony hand on my shoulder, "I'm so sorry. And how have these men been? I bet thousands of boys would come running from all around the world to call themselves your husband!"
"The men? So far, it's been a nightmare! It suprises me how they think they think they can't just present themselves in front of me and expect me to give them my ring finger." I scoffed in the memory of all of the boys who had come. There was one proposal that wouldn't leave my mind. And for all the wrong reasons.
"Sounds terrible," Carrie nodded sympathetically, "and why do you think that your father signed you up for this program?"
"Honestly, I don't know. He doesn't understand that I don't have any intentions to marry just any egotistical rich boy knocking on my door. All I know is that my mother deserves to be on this show." I laughed to myself. "Are we done?" I was getting tired of this woman and the nonsensical questions. If they think that they can change me, they are dead wrong.
Carrie nodded, speechless, so I stood up and began to walk out, feeling the cameras itching on my neck. "Dismissed," I sarcastically called behind me. The doors closed, leaving the television crew gawking at the door. My mother was still in the sitting room, in the same position as when I'd left. Except in her hand was a Belgian waffle as she watched 'etalk', critiquing Joan River's "hideous" hair. When she noticed me, she smiled slyly, although I overlooked it.
"How'd it go, sweetie?" she asked, in her usual high-pitched voice.
"Fine." I smiled tightly, but grinned when I remembered what I said about her. "Great." With that, I hopped up the stairs to my room, in the process swooping down to pick up Miffy, our rare-breed hairless cat.
Maybe this thing wouldn't be that bad. A chance to get my name out there. To show people I wasn't just a rich man's spoiled daughter. To show my father that I didn't need a husband, and can live perfectly fine on my own.
Maybe.
