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"Oh my, do come in."
Regina entered the house boastfully, peering at the interior with slits in her eyes and a smirk on her lips.
"This house is really... a classic." She jested, leaving her suitcases at the front door.
"Your things, ma'am?" Canela reminded.
Regina turned around, saying nothing for about ten seconds.
"Well, can't you bring them up for me? It's not like I won't pay you."
Canela, annoyed at Regina's character already, did her best at hauling the bulky travel cases inside of the house.
They were all marvelous: Louis Vuitton and embedded with rhinestones. One even had her name embroided with velvety red.
"Do you like them, dear?" Regina asked swankily as she sat on the pink couch lighting a cigar.
She was the only woman Canela knew to light such a manly coffin nail.
"They're simply beautiful," Canela admitted with a smile. "Where did you get them from?"
"They were a gift. I get a lot of those."
Canela nodded, continuing her work. She was now on bag number 5.
"Damn it. Is she moving in?" Canela thought.
"...All kinds of boys love showering me with some of the best things money can buy." She continued.
Canela rolled her eyes as she picked up the seventh bag. Of course, she'd never show someone her true emotions. Especially if she could show it on her pretty face.
"Cary Grant, Rock Hudson, James Dean...oh James. I love my little Jimmy." Regina bragged, only stopping to take another drag from her cuban. "But, Paulie has always been my favorite."
"Paulie?" Canela queried, only to be a quality host to her guest. Not because she was interested in Regina's pompous narrative by any means.
"The Paul Newman, dear. I get to call him Paulie." She shrugged. "He recently bought me a pair of .30 carat earrings."
"Why, that's magnificent." Canela agreed, noticing Regina had gotten quite comfortable with her feet plopped on the clear coffee table.
"For a girl who seems so elegant, shouldn't she have just a little sense of home ethics?"
"Let's get you signed in." Canela sang sweetly.
Behind the white desk, Canela stood signing Regina's name in cursive letters.
Regina continued blowing smoke closely to Canela's face. Canela only looked up to smile, imagining what she'd do if she weren't proposing a room.
First, she would take her hair and yank it forcefully to the ground. Then, the smoke would be over.
"Here you are, Miss. Combs. Please sign your name here."
Regina snatched the sheet from Canela, firmly signing her signature.
As she wrote, Canela noticed her ring. Although Regina carried several pieces of jewelry, this particular ring was different. It was flashy and had some sort of seriousness to it, unlike the rest of her superficial exterior.
"Are you married, Miss. Combs?"
"Married?" She quipped. "Why, of course."
As Canela noticed her grinding demeanor, she cleared her throat and offered to take Regina to her room for the night.
"Shall we?" She pronounced.
Regina followed along, gawping at the broken wine glass near the wall.
"What's the matter here?" Regina remarked.
"Oh," Canela remembered, mentally reprimanding herself. "I only thought there was a spider crawling. My, do I hate spiders."
"Spiders?" Regina shouted. "What else do you have crawling around this place?"
"I said...I thought I saw one." Canela responded, matching Regina's squalid energy.
Finally, Regina shut her orange lily colored mouth.
"Those damned things." She continued.
Finally, they approached Regina's room, a pink door on the right. The same room Canela slept in from time to time.
"Please, don't be afraid to let me know if you need anything. I should be down stairs cleaning."
"Why would I be afraid?"
Canela only grinned at Regina's hostile attempt at scrutiny.
"Spiders." Canela replied, walking briskly down the stairs.
Passing the fancy suitcases owned by Regina Combs and the envisioned crime scene she imagined on the couch, Canela carefully turned on the record player and began rolling her sleeves up.
She hummed to the passive tune of Moonlight Sonata, cheerfully washing the dishes.
She thought about Regina and her odious nature. She loved observing her and only wished that one day she would assume her. Become her.
"What's it really like to be Regina Combs?" She wondered.
The rage. The fire. The ice. The fame.
Oh, the evil.
Interrupting her sinister thoughts, Canela could hear the demanding stride of stiletto pumps chomping down the stair case.
"Er, I didn't get your name-"
"Canela,"
"Yes...well, have you seen my ring? I don't remember setting it down anywhere-"
"Do you remember taking it off?" Canela probed calmly.
"Why would I do such a thing?! It's from my husband for Christ's sakes! Jesus...would you help me find it?"
"Most certainly. I'll look around once I finish rinsing the dishes."
"Thank you." Regina murmured, walking back up the steps.
