Rich

The Kings house was a rather large, gaudy thing, it's lawn was four times the size of a normal lawn, the front door twice as tall as any man, the entryway seemed to go upwards forever, and just before it seemed that it went too high, it ended. Up above the doorway was a double balcony, overlooking from the second and third floors, a huge chandelier dangling from a chain overhead, the crystal lights almost close enough to the balcony that they could be touched.

Further on into the house, things were just as grand. The parlor was rather small; although it had two couches and a love seat, along with a television that took up almost the entire wall. The kitchen was rather plain with marble counters and a shiny stainless steel sink, obviously not meant to be a place that time was spent in. As it were, even this kitchen was only meant for show, and there was another, much bigger where the cooks prepared meals that were served in the dining room. The dining room was large, like the rest of the house, the long table taking up the center of it was a hard wood, polished smooth and covered in a sea blue table clothe, the plates and silverware just as polished as the rest of the house.

When the Bache’s car pulled up the drive, the whole place seemed like a movie premiere, minus the screaming fans and the paparazzi. Dozens of cars lined up in front of the house, and all sorts of well dressed men and women wandering in, or hanging around the entrance, different kinds of alcoholic beverages in hand. Inside was like a scene out of a posh movie, skinny women in tight dresses sipped at strangely named drinks, clinging to the arms of men who obviously had the money to entertain such women. Calm music played in the background. This was no mere party, as it pretended to be.

As Elizabeth took it all in with a rather uninterested expression, her mother grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt and tapped on the shoulder of a tall, curvy woman, who turned, her mild expression breaking out into a smile.

“Andrea,” she said, grinning wildly, switching her vomit green drink to her free hand so she could give Elizabeth’s mother a one armed hug, before pulling a tall boy around Elizabeth’s age over to join them. “Elizabeth, Andrea this is my son Jacob, Jacob, this is Andrea and her daughter Elizabeth.”

Jacob smiled and shook hands with Elizabeth’s mother, kissing the back of her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Bache.” She laughed, and said that she was flattered, but to call her Andrea, and he turned his attention to Elizabeth, taking her hand as well and kissing it.

“And you, Ms. Bache.” Elizabeth laughed as well and waved a hand. “Oh you know, just call me Elizabeth,” she said, mocking her mothers tone and mannerisms. Her smile fell and he let go of her hand, however he didn’t look the slightest put out.

He offered to get her a drink, which she complied, and murmured an ‘excuse me’ to their mothers before following him into the crowd towards the ballroom, an even bigger room with an even higher ceiling, if that was possible. Many of the skinny women were allowing themselves to be twirled around by the rich men, their drinks left unfinished or possibly polished off, the glasses set aside for servants to pick up later.

“Two Rickey’s please,” Jacob spoke to the bartender, then gave her a mildly awkward look as if he wasn’t to sure what to say. She didn’t particularly care to break the silence, so she simply stood there, acting as if she were staring past him, but was really taking in his appearance. He was a rather tall boy, her head reached up to his shoulders, barely. She could tell even in the pressed suit that he was on the muscular side, his extremely broad shoulders complimenting his rugged handsomeness rather nicely. He had a softly angled face framed by curly dark hair.

Obviously, he took after his father in looks.

Finally, finally the bartender returned with their drinks and he handed her a glass, taking the other for himself.

“Shall we find someplace a bit more open?” he asked, gesturing outside. She followed him through the swaying couples to the verandah, which opened onto a large garden filled with all kinds of different flowers. The verandah had a bench long enough to fit two people comfortably, but it seemed as if it were out of the way and only used now and then as a pass through from party to garden. He took a seat on the bench and gestured for her to sit as well. She walked over to the bench, and used it to climb up onto the rail, her tiny feet dangling a couple feet off the ground. He looked shock for a moment, but didn’t comment on it.

“So,” he began, after clearing his through several times. “Where’s your father?”

“Probably blowing yours,” she replied in a calm voice, taking a sip of her drink. She had lost all of her ladylike presence, her back was slumped, and she looked like just another teenager.

Jacob looked mildly taken aback by this, and seemed to struggle for words. Elizabeth half laughed, taking another sip of her drink. “Sorry, I think you’d know it better as a business transaction.”

Jacob nodded, lifting his drink to his lips in an attempt to contain his surprise. Elizabeth pretended not to notice and went on.

“Everything in this bloody place is a business transaction,” she muttered, gesturing with her fingers to the adults on the other side of the doorway. “I mean really, why else would a woman like that be with that guy?” The couple she indicated were a woman in her mid twenties a=nd a man who seemed to be at least ten years her senior, who were speaking with a buxom woman who appeared to be in her early forties.

Jacob looked slightly taken aback, but Elizabeth barreled on. “I mean, even this,” she gestured between the two of them, “is a business transaction.” He laughed, possibly in an attempt to cover his complete shock. “Well don’t you have any confidence in love at all? Maybe this is forcing the hand a little bit.”

"In all honestly," she said, giving him a level look. "I don't believe in love. The idea of it bores me greatly." She shrugged, and knocked back the rest of her drink, not letting him recover from his shock before she spoke again. “Nothing has ever proved me otherwise.”

Jacob nodded, eyebrows slightly raised. “Would you be at all objective to me trying to prove you other wise then?” She shrugged.

“If you wish.”

He nodded, and looked at the dance floor which had emptied out a bit as the adults went for another round of drinks between songs. “Would you like to dance?”

She looked mildly flushed for the first time since she’d arrived. “I don’t like to dance.” It wasn’t exactly that she was bad at it, she just didn’t like to. He raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever even tried?” he asked, setting his drink on the concrete banister. Elizabeth shrugged again, pulling a face. He laughed at this, and held out his hand. “Come, dance.”

Sighing, she set her glass down as well, and complied, taking his hand and allowing him to help her down and then lead her into the huge ballroom.