Smiling at Everything

Outside the car window, the scenery flew past as Jazz drove. The speed limit was never important when Jazz hit the road. She liked going fast; it gave her a sense of being alive. It was something she felt like she was losing on a day-to-day basis. Between faking her life in front of everyone and trying to force herself to forget, she was losing herself. She wasn't Jazz anymore; she didn't know who the hell she was but she certainly wasn't Jazz Presley.

That girl didn't exist anymore.

Jazz pulled up to the gate of her father's mansion, rolling down her window next to the security code box. Her fingers flew over the keys. By now, she could type the code with her eyes closed.

The gate slid open; Jazz drove through as she did every week. However, lunch with her father was normally on Tuesday, not Sunday. The coming week would be busy for him so he scheduled it early. He could never make time in his schedule for her. Her mother didn't either. If they had a surgery or a consultation to attend to, they would move the date of the family meal, leave early, or cancel the whole thing.

It didn't matter much to Jazz; she knew she wasn't a priority on their list. Hell, she wasn't even on their list. She was an after thought, a chore. But she felt the same way towards them.

Jazz pulled her car into the parking space kept empty for her. The Porsche fit in well with her dad's various cars. Though the apartment complex that housed her penthouse was full of people with more money than necessary, her car didn't fit in with the cars in the parking garage.

Parking the car and killing the engine, Jazz slipped out to walk up the cobblestone path to her father's home. She didn't know why he had a mansion. He lived by himself for the most part. Besides the hired help and various girlfriends, he lived on his own. He could have rented a penthouse and been just fine.

The door to the mansion opened before she could knock. Her presence was expected. The security system was programmed to make a noise in certain areas of the mansion to signal the opening of the gate so the staff would be ready.

"Ms. Presley," the butler holding the door greeted.

"Hello, Samuel. I'm here to see my father," Jazz smiled.

"He's waiting for you in the dining room. Lunch is already on the table."

"Am I late?"

"No, Mr. Presley started early. Ms. White required lunch be served early so she wouldn't be late for work."

"Ms. White?"

She didn't know a Ms. White. It couldn't have been a staff member. Their only job was in the mansion. It wasn't any of her grandparents, they were all deceased. She didn't know who it could be.

"You'll see when you get in the dining room," Samuel grimaced.

Jazz faked a giggle at Samuel's expression. She was still shaken up after the short conversation at her mother's home but she was doing her best to hide it. If she went into the dining room looking scared, her father would have more fuel to use against her mother in a fight. He knew she was seeing her mother for brunch.

"Well then, I should be off to the dining room," Jazz said.

"Good luck, Ms. Presley," Samuel nodded.

Jazz shook her head, walking through the massive mansion to the dining room. She knew the mansion like the back of her hand. It had been easy for her to memorize since it was modeled almost exactly like their old home.

Jazz walked through the door to the dining room, smiling as always. The main meal was already laid out on the table. Her father sat at the head of the table, looking perfectly groomed and ready for work. He wasn't alone. A woman sat on his right, staring at Jazz the second she walked in. Jazz didn't let the woman's presence or staring get to her; she walked into the room, head high, shoulders back.

"Hello, Jazz," her father greeted.

"Hello, father," Jazz returned, stopping next to his seat and "kissing" his cheeks.

It was more like touching her father's cheeks with hers. She was brought up to greet her parents like that. She had done the same to her mother and Robert before she left. Her mother had been too drunk for a proper greeting.

"Samantha," her father said to the woman next to him, "this is my daughter Jazz. Jazz, this is Samantha White, my girlfriend"

"It's lovely to meet you," Jazz said, taking a seat on her father's left side.

So this was the Ms. White that Samuel was talking about; her father's fling for the week. Jazz could tell the woman had a lot of plastic surgery done on her body; she had no wrinkles, her eyes wider than normal, lips too plump to be natural, and breasts that were obviously fake. Maybe she was one of her father's past patients.

"You're in RxN," Samantha stated.

"Yes, I am. Are you a fan?" Jazz asked.

"Yeah, you guys are amazing," Samantha turned to Jazz's father, "Richard, you didn't tell me your daughter was in a band."

"It didn't seem like an important detail," he responded.

Of course it didn't.

"Are you kidding? This is so amazing. Your daughter is Jazz Presley," Samantha pushed.

"I am aware of who my daughter is," her father replied.

Jazz watched the two converse, smiling like nothing was wrong. Her father didn't actually know who she was. Sure, he knew her name but didn't know her. Not the way a father should.

Samantha rolled her eyes and looked back at Jazz, "Well, I'm sorry I didn't know who you were and probably made a fool of myself by staring."

"Its fine," Jazz giggled.

Her fake giggles made her want to gag. How could no one see she was faking? Didn't they know she never giggled all the time? Didn't they know she couldn't be happy constantly? It was impossible for a person to be happy all the time. Why couldn't they call her bluff?

Zack did. And she denied it. Maybe she should have let him in. But she couldn't do that with her friends in the room. She wanted them to find out on their own. She wanted them to see. She didn't want someone who was almost a complete stranger to point it out for them. They were supposed to notice.

"I have to get to work. It was nice meeting you, Jazz," Samantha stood from her seat, "Bye, Richard."

Jazz's father mumbled something in return. Samantha kissed his cheek before leaving the room. Jazz waited for her father to ask his normal questions.

"How's the penthouse?" he asked.

"Its fine," Jazz responded.

"Are the maids doing their job?"

Jazz nodded.

"The band is still together?"

"We’re leaving for tour tomorrow," Jazz said.

"Very good."

They're conversation was done. Just like that. Every week, her father would ask the same questions and, every week, Jazz would answer with as little information as necessary. She didn't push him to have a conversation with her. He didn't care; she didn't care. There was no point in furthering a relationship that neither of them would give a shit about.

Jazz was perfectly complacent with where she was with her father. She didn't yearn for a relationship with him or her mother. She didn’t even want Robert to push her to have a friendship with him. She had very low trust in people after what happened to her during her youth.

It affected her friendship with her band mates the most. They were supposed to be close; they weren't supposed to keep secrets. And she had been lying to them since she met most of them.

If the past wasn't enough to make her feel like a terrible person, lying to her friends sure as hell did the trick.