Four inch Stiletto heels

“Mother!” I screeched at the top of my lungs. “Lets go!” I grabbed my neon green colored jacket and ran down the steps of our 500,000 dollar house, and this was only a temporary home. I ran to the slick car in the driveway. Pushing my black and yellow streaked bangs out of my face as I ran.

Today was the day I got my horse. I kept on imagining a black stallion but I knew that was improbable because I was a beginner. Nothing wrong with wishing though right?

So I got a gelding, no problem. I could deal with that.

I stood there tapping my fingers again our new 2010 Lexus LFA, built for speed all the way. It was sleek looking and black. Yes, my mother liked to be in style.

She came tapping down the driveway in four inch stillettos. $1,000 dollar forzeiri italiano dress. What's more she had perfect skin, tanned beautifully and had shimmery waist long golden blonde hair. Of course she was a model. Anjelica Jones, and I was her 'pathetic little punk rocker totally rebel girl' Camilla, I hated my name. But I had a great title in the celebrity world eh?

**NO ONE"S POV**

“Why?” Anjelica muttered to herself as she unlocked the car. Why did she get the bratty girl every day of the school year. Why couldn't her father take her full time? She would be more than willing to give her up. She insisted on skateboards and insane colors, ridiculous hairstyles. She couldn't bear to be seen in public with her, and why should she?

The one time she had forgotten to use condoms, she got pregnant. Now she had to deal with a kid and a guy who used to be just her 'boytoy' but was now her daughters father. She could never get rid of him.

The truth was Anjelica just couldn't stay with the same guy for more than two weeks. Much less fifteen years. That's why she never married Sabastian, the super sexy Italian actor. She was a supermodel, number one in all of Europe for the time being. It would have looked horrible for her to get married. Unlike herself though, Sabastian actually cared about Camilla, where she didn't give a shit. She just pretended to be the 'happy go lucky' mom.

Camilla already knew that was an act. She didn't care about Anjelica either, she looked forward to the summer vacations with her father. She only stayed with Anjelica because Sabastian insisted it would be “Good for her” yeah, she was learning how to fuck guys and be a slut. Great.

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“ Camilla why, do you have to get a HORSE?! Why can't you get a small lovable cat?” Anjelica added very low maintenance in her head. She was trying to talk her daughter out of doing this one last time, of course her plan backfired.

“Because you can't ride cats can you mother? Horses understand people so much better anyway” Cammi said, trying to be patient and not explode in her mothers face. If she did that, her mother would refuse to take her. “I don't know why you still call me Camilla I have told you millions of times to call me Cammi”

“Camilla Anderson was France's top model for TEN years!” Anjelica exclaimed. “Beside's its a beautiful name and fits you perfectly” Her daughter could have been a model if she wished it, she had her mother's perfect body and her father's amazing features. Anjelica just didn't understand why her daughter chose not to make millions a year and have guys falling at her feet wherever she walked. She didn't know that her daughter had all that already, in a very non-slutty way. The people liked her for who she WAS not for her looks.

“Mother, Camilla Anderson is a slut. I don't want to be anything like her.” Cammi said. Of course Anjelica was a slut too. A new guy every week and she didn't see the problem with that.

**CAMMI"S POV**

My mother was a complete idiot. She only got loads of money because of her sex appeal. Horny guys loved her. She was on playboy all the time. Ugh.

We pulled into the horse ranch and my emerald eyes sparkled with excitement. Mother would probably stay in the car. All for fear of spoiling her 'oh so precious shoes'

She handed me a couple thousand dollars, where some people would be drooling over the money I took it and used it. “Hurry dear.” she said with fake careness. She was applying makeup to her already perfect self, “Sure” I said, my angel voice on. More than anything I wanted to slap her perfectly bitchy face.

My punk hair bounced as I walked into the office, short and spikey in the back with green tips and longer in the front with neon yellow streaks. It was kick ass.

They were probably thinking “Who the hell is this?” But did I care? No.

“I need to find a black gelding, Arabian and about three years old.” I told the lady sitting at the desk, looking bored as hell and wearing ugly horn rimmed glasses. She obviously didn't care what she looked like, unlike my mother.

“Of course” she said, studying my exotic appearance. I rolled my eyes. “Phil!” she yelled. A tall blonde guy appeared and looked at her with dark chocolatey brown eyes.

“Show her Onyx.” she said. I followed the guy out of the dull office and into some horsey smelling stables. The place was huge.

He was pretty attractive, but around twenty. Too old for me. My mom would have said “Go for it baby” but I wasn't a whore. I didn't date guys twenty years older than me just for the money.

We stopped in front of a corral with a lovely black horse in it, his face buried in a bale of hay. “This is Onyx” Phil said. Gesturing toward the horse. “He's gorgeous” I said, climbing up and leaning over the top rail admiring him. Long legs, perfect for running. He had soft, gentle eyes. So he was probably a nice guy. He had a glossy black coat and looked perfectly healthy. I loved him already.

I turned back to Phil, my eyes glinting happily.

“He's perfect” I said.