Status: Updated weekly
Perfect
Reputation
It was pouring rain when Ashton and Dr. Hill made it back to the office. They ran through the glass door together, their clothes already drenched and dripping on the green carpet of the waiting room.
Ashton took a seat away from all of the other patients as the doctor went straight back to his office. They hadn’t spoken to each other since they left the art studio. Ashton appreciated that the doctor knew better than to force her to talk about any of it. Even if he had asked her about how she was feeling about it, she wouldn’t know what to say.
All she could think is that Raymond Monroe was nothing like she thought he would be like. He was so young. She had expected someone much older from what she’d heard about him. She heard that he’s made so many masterpieces. Everyone knew who he was. Everyone always trusted his work to come out flawless. She just thought that someone who knew exactly how to appeal to people like that-well she thought he would be more experienced. Older. But he was really only a few years older than her.
How could someone achieve that amount of fame and fortune at such a young age?
And why would someone so important want to help out some girl as pitiful as her?
“Miss Reid.” The receptionist called. Ashton walked over to the little desk up front and looked down at the pretty blonde who had called her.
“Miss Reid, your car is outside waiting for you now.” The blonde forced a smile as she looked up at Ashton.
Ashton mumbled a thank you and headed outside where her parents’ driver was waiting for her.
“Good afternoon, miss.” John said, holding open the car door for her.
After they were both inside and John was pulling out of the parking lot, Ashton spoke up. “Are they home, John?” Her voice was so soft, but she knew he could hear her when he sighed.
“Your father should be getting home shortly, perhaps even before us. Your mother was in the bath when I left.” John knew this information was exactly the opposite of what Ashton wanted to hear, but he could only tell her the truth.
They sat in silence for the rest of the car ride, Ashton’s mood growing darker as they approached the iron gates of the estate. Clouds hung over the house ominously, and Ashton spotted her father’s sports car parked outside the garage.
John opened the door for her before she could do it herself, and stopped her from running off ahead of him. He stood in front of her with his arms crossed, effectively preventing her from going around him.
Ashton grew impatient when he just stood there looking at her disapprovingly. “What!” She snapped.
John sighed. “Ashton, you know you need to face them. You can’t avoid them. They’ll want to know how today went.”
“They can ask anyone else. There’s no reason I have to talk to them about it at all. They don’t even really care about what it means to me, they just want an excuse to get a fucking Monroe painting!” Ashton’s head was pounding as she yelled at John. She closed her eyes and collected herself. “It doesn’t even matter what they care about. I know I don’t have to talk to them about it.
“And mind your own business.” She then moved past him up the steps to the double doors, pushing them aside and running up to her room, not even pausing to see if her parents had been waiting for her.
Ashton crumpled to the floor as soon as she closed her bedroom door. Why did everyone assume that her parents actually gave a damn about her? Everyone just thought they knew the answer to all of her troubles. Just talk to them. Dr. Hill had been telling her that every Monday for a year and a half. Ashton slumped against the door, reaching up to let her hair loose. It just wasn’t that simple. They were the reason Ashton was the way she was. They were the reason for all of it.
No. She wasn’t going to think about any of that. She couldn’t take it after a day like that. She had so much to think about.
Her stomach grumbled suddenly and Ashton groaned knowing that meant she had to go downstairs. She got to her feet and stood in front of the mirror next to her door.
She examined herself in the mirror, criticizing her features as her eyes moved from her dark hair frizzing out around her to her overlarge hoodie and sweat pants. She would have to change before she went down to eat, so she grabbed the throw blanket off the window seat and draped it over the mirror so she wouldn’t see her body as she changed.
After slipping into more extremely baggy sweats and combing through her unruly hair, Ashton made her way down the cold marble staircase, trying to be as quiet as possible, so as not to call attention to herself as she came closer to the dining room where she could hear hushed voices speaking frantically to one another.
She scampered past the dining room, going unnoticed and meaning to ignore the hushed conversation and go to the kitchen. Her father’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “How much money am I going to pour into that girl before she stops acting so dismal?”
“Vincent, please. Don’t talk like that. It’s not like we don’t have the money.” Ashton’s mother sounded bored.
“Yes, you’re right, Iris, dear. We do have the money.” Vincent’s voice was sarcastically sweet. “That’s why that useless daughter of yours walks around wearing sweats like she doesn’t even care that we have a reputation to uphold!” His voice rose dangerously.
Ashton peaked in and saw her mother sitting in her chair looking so calm, it was as if her father hadn’t even said anything. Vincent continued, “I mean, she’s just so plain. She doesn’t try. She doesn’t fit. Can’t we just convince that stupid doctor to force her to dress better and wear makeup or something? I’m tired of letting her ruin my reputation here.”
“Now you know we can’t tell the doctor what to do. I think he’s had an excellent idea, asking Raymond Monroe to paint our girl.” Iris stood up and took Vincent’s hand between hers, looking up into his eyes. “A Monroe masterpiece, made after your daughter. Just think of what that will do for your reputation.”
“It isn’t enough, Iris.” Vincent pulled his hand away from her, turning to face the stone fireplace beside him.
“I have a feeling that Mr. Monroe will put her in her place.” Iris kissed her husband chastely on the cheek. “By the end of this, she might even look like a decent human being. Just leave it to Monroe.” Iris grabbed two glasses of wine off the table and handed one to Vincent. She raised her glass to his. “To Monroe.” Their glasses clinked and they sipped their drinks.
Ashton looked away from the scene, tears burning in her eyes. She started to walk away, but a voice called after her. “Miss Ashton! Wouldn’t you like your supper now?” It was Maeve, one of the servants.
Ashton ignored her and hurried down the stairs to the second family room. She curled up on one of the plush ivory couches, digging her nails into her arms and sobbing into the cushions so no one could hear her.
Ashton took a seat away from all of the other patients as the doctor went straight back to his office. They hadn’t spoken to each other since they left the art studio. Ashton appreciated that the doctor knew better than to force her to talk about any of it. Even if he had asked her about how she was feeling about it, she wouldn’t know what to say.
All she could think is that Raymond Monroe was nothing like she thought he would be like. He was so young. She had expected someone much older from what she’d heard about him. She heard that he’s made so many masterpieces. Everyone knew who he was. Everyone always trusted his work to come out flawless. She just thought that someone who knew exactly how to appeal to people like that-well she thought he would be more experienced. Older. But he was really only a few years older than her.
How could someone achieve that amount of fame and fortune at such a young age?
And why would someone so important want to help out some girl as pitiful as her?
“Miss Reid.” The receptionist called. Ashton walked over to the little desk up front and looked down at the pretty blonde who had called her.
“Miss Reid, your car is outside waiting for you now.” The blonde forced a smile as she looked up at Ashton.
Ashton mumbled a thank you and headed outside where her parents’ driver was waiting for her.
“Good afternoon, miss.” John said, holding open the car door for her.
After they were both inside and John was pulling out of the parking lot, Ashton spoke up. “Are they home, John?” Her voice was so soft, but she knew he could hear her when he sighed.
“Your father should be getting home shortly, perhaps even before us. Your mother was in the bath when I left.” John knew this information was exactly the opposite of what Ashton wanted to hear, but he could only tell her the truth.
They sat in silence for the rest of the car ride, Ashton’s mood growing darker as they approached the iron gates of the estate. Clouds hung over the house ominously, and Ashton spotted her father’s sports car parked outside the garage.
John opened the door for her before she could do it herself, and stopped her from running off ahead of him. He stood in front of her with his arms crossed, effectively preventing her from going around him.
Ashton grew impatient when he just stood there looking at her disapprovingly. “What!” She snapped.
John sighed. “Ashton, you know you need to face them. You can’t avoid them. They’ll want to know how today went.”
“They can ask anyone else. There’s no reason I have to talk to them about it at all. They don’t even really care about what it means to me, they just want an excuse to get a fucking Monroe painting!” Ashton’s head was pounding as she yelled at John. She closed her eyes and collected herself. “It doesn’t even matter what they care about. I know I don’t have to talk to them about it.
“And mind your own business.” She then moved past him up the steps to the double doors, pushing them aside and running up to her room, not even pausing to see if her parents had been waiting for her.
Ashton crumpled to the floor as soon as she closed her bedroom door. Why did everyone assume that her parents actually gave a damn about her? Everyone just thought they knew the answer to all of her troubles. Just talk to them. Dr. Hill had been telling her that every Monday for a year and a half. Ashton slumped against the door, reaching up to let her hair loose. It just wasn’t that simple. They were the reason Ashton was the way she was. They were the reason for all of it.
No. She wasn’t going to think about any of that. She couldn’t take it after a day like that. She had so much to think about.
Her stomach grumbled suddenly and Ashton groaned knowing that meant she had to go downstairs. She got to her feet and stood in front of the mirror next to her door.
She examined herself in the mirror, criticizing her features as her eyes moved from her dark hair frizzing out around her to her overlarge hoodie and sweat pants. She would have to change before she went down to eat, so she grabbed the throw blanket off the window seat and draped it over the mirror so she wouldn’t see her body as she changed.
After slipping into more extremely baggy sweats and combing through her unruly hair, Ashton made her way down the cold marble staircase, trying to be as quiet as possible, so as not to call attention to herself as she came closer to the dining room where she could hear hushed voices speaking frantically to one another.
She scampered past the dining room, going unnoticed and meaning to ignore the hushed conversation and go to the kitchen. Her father’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “How much money am I going to pour into that girl before she stops acting so dismal?”
“Vincent, please. Don’t talk like that. It’s not like we don’t have the money.” Ashton’s mother sounded bored.
“Yes, you’re right, Iris, dear. We do have the money.” Vincent’s voice was sarcastically sweet. “That’s why that useless daughter of yours walks around wearing sweats like she doesn’t even care that we have a reputation to uphold!” His voice rose dangerously.
Ashton peaked in and saw her mother sitting in her chair looking so calm, it was as if her father hadn’t even said anything. Vincent continued, “I mean, she’s just so plain. She doesn’t try. She doesn’t fit. Can’t we just convince that stupid doctor to force her to dress better and wear makeup or something? I’m tired of letting her ruin my reputation here.”
“Now you know we can’t tell the doctor what to do. I think he’s had an excellent idea, asking Raymond Monroe to paint our girl.” Iris stood up and took Vincent’s hand between hers, looking up into his eyes. “A Monroe masterpiece, made after your daughter. Just think of what that will do for your reputation.”
“It isn’t enough, Iris.” Vincent pulled his hand away from her, turning to face the stone fireplace beside him.
“I have a feeling that Mr. Monroe will put her in her place.” Iris kissed her husband chastely on the cheek. “By the end of this, she might even look like a decent human being. Just leave it to Monroe.” Iris grabbed two glasses of wine off the table and handed one to Vincent. She raised her glass to his. “To Monroe.” Their glasses clinked and they sipped their drinks.
Ashton looked away from the scene, tears burning in her eyes. She started to walk away, but a voice called after her. “Miss Ashton! Wouldn’t you like your supper now?” It was Maeve, one of the servants.
Ashton ignored her and hurried down the stairs to the second family room. She curled up on one of the plush ivory couches, digging her nails into her arms and sobbing into the cushions so no one could hear her.