Poor Little Rich Girl

Poor Little Rich Girl: 1

Waking up in the morning wasn't such a chore for me. I, unlike most people I know, loved the sunny Miami mornings. The sun shining through my curtains, the warm breeze, the sound of the sea crashing against the shore-insert happy sigh here-I loved it. I woke at exactly seven am, as I did every morning and skipped down the stairs with a huge smile on my face.

"Good morning Miss Prescott." The house keeper greeted me as I reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Good morning Gloria." I grinned at her.

Gloria was our house keeper. She used to be my nanny but now, with my 17th birthday coming up, she had become our house keeper considering I didn't really need her to watch my every move anymore, I mean it's not like I'm going around and drawing on the walls like I used to. There wasn't much difference between her jobs but my family and I just couldn't bare the thought of her leaving.

Ok, so maybe I couldn't bare the thought of her leaving. She didn't mind, she had no grandchildren and her husband had passed a few years ago, she consider us as family. The death of her husband had had a huge effect on her so we offered our services and she moved in with us happily.

She had said there were too many memories of her husband back home and where she didn't want to forget him exactly, she didn't want to be constantly reminded that he's no longer here with her. I thought it was all very sweet and romantic, she always told me stories of her and her husband to me as a child before bed.

She was the mother I always longed my birth mother to be. My parent's world revolved around their work and reputation. Out in public, we seemed like the perfect family. Behind closed doors, we were anything but perfect.

My father, Alan Prescott, was a world known film producer. Producing films all over the world, followed by the paparazzi, doing interviews, meeting famous people....never at home. Sure his work was what brought our ridiculously big house, my car, my wardrobe and everything else I owned but money couldn't buy everything, right?

My mother, Elise Prescott, was a fashion designer. It was actually how my parents met, my mother designing the wardrobe for one of my father's films. My mum worked from home half of the time, always up in her study designing her next fashion line, the other half of the time she was travelling the world showing her clothes for buyers, blah, blah, blah.

Yeah, I was lucky if I saw my parents on the holidays, let alone any other day. I understand that their work is important but what about me? Their own daughter, don't I fit in somewhere between? They missed my sixteenth birthday last year and to make up for it, they showered me in gifts and money, just five months later.

I gave up trying to gain their attention, or, I gave up trying to gain their attention by trying to arrange day trips with them. Now, I just embrace my life and try to make the most out of it.

"And what can I do for you this morning Sunshine?" My grin widened at the sound of my favourite chef. Ok, so he was the only chef but he was also a really good friend of mine.

"Ummm, I was thinking of-"

"My special breakfast, complete with pancakes, waffles and fresh fruit." He asked raising an eyebrow.

"You know me too well Luke." I smiled leaning over the island in the kitchen.

"Well, I've been working for your parents for ten years now. I should hope I know you that well." He replied handing me a glass of fresh orange juice.

Luke was our personal chef and may I say, the best chef I've ever come across. Luke was in his mid-thirties, unlike Gloria who was in her late sixties. Luke was tan skinned with short black curly hair and big warm brown eyes. He was awesome, always cooking me my favourite meals when I was upset and telling me useless jokes, which at the time, are hilarious.