Rags to Riches

Oh God, he totally hates me. He already thinks I'm a weirdo. Just keep that smile on your face, Callie.

I could tell my smile looked as forced as it felt when Kenny's expression changed after asking me what happened at the party. In a way, he looked kind of concerned when I didn't respond right away. I squirmed in my seat, sighing and picking at the sushi in front of me as I tried to form the right words in my head. How do I put this without sounding like a complete and utter loser?

"I was afraid," I sighed, just leaving it at that.

"Afraid?" he repeated in a flat tone, setting down the chopsticks to look at me.

"Yeah. I was really afraid of not being good enough, so I changed everything to be good enough," I felt my heart sink as I said it out loud to someone for the first time. I knew I couldn't just leave it there. I had to tell him the rest. It would do until I had the guts to tell my father. "I looked like a total whore. That dress had such a low back that you could almost see my butt, in case you couldn't already see it from how short the skirt was. And I was wearing so much dark makeup that you wouldn't have been able to recognize me under all of it. And I attracted the kind of attention that look was asking for. The guy decided it was okay to put his hands all over me. I was displaying it, after all. Why would he think I was there for meaningful conversation? It was bad. It was just really bad."

I stabbed the last sushi roll with one of my chopsticks, silently keeping my eyes down for an awkward minute or two. Kenny seemed speechless. I couldn't tell if he was shocked or amused. He cleared his throat and spoke up when he realized I wasn't going to talk about it in detail.

"I take it you and your dad are close?" he asked.

"Yeah. We've always been," I sighed, leaning back in the chair.

"Good. He's a good guy to have around," he nodded, pausing a few moments before talking again. "For what it's worth, which probably isn't much, I'll keep my mouth shut about it."

"Thank you," I gave him a weak, but genuine smile that he returned with a more reassuring one.

"So, uh, it's your turn," he said, gently kicking my leg under the table.

"Oh, right. Questions," I shifted awkwardly, thinking about my next question. "What do you intend on wearing while you're here?"

"Wearing? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" he got a bit defensive. I realized that it was a regular reaction from him.

"There's a dress code here. You don't have to wear a tuxedo or anything, but come on, a polo at the very least," I giggled, gesturing to his old, baggy clothing. I leaned back, looking him up and down. "You'd look good in Ralph Lauren. Or Lacoste. Do you have any of that?"

He just gave me an unamused blank stare. Clearly he had never even thought about the brands I was talking about, let alone own any of it. Well that wouldn't do. TechNet had a reputation for professionalism. No one was going to take him seriously if he looked like that.

"I'll tell you what, we'll go shopping. I'll find you some decent clothes to wear around here. Then when you go home you can go back to the ratty looking thing you've got going on. Deal?"

"I don't need to pay for new clothes," he grumbled, completely unenthusiastic.

"Then I'll pay for it," I told him, only to recieve another unamused expression. "Think of it this way: I'm doing it for me, not you. You're just going to be the Barbie for a little while and let me dress you up so you don't embarass anyone. And so you don't get dirty looks in the hallways."

His expression softened when I mentioned the dirty looks, as if it suddenly clicked in his head that a change of appearance could do him good. Though at the same time, it liked like he hated all the attention he was getting from my father and me.

"Fine," he reluctantly agreed. "But after this, we're done with all the goddamn charity. I'm not a homeless lunatic."

"Great," I grinned, taking out a pen and scribbling on a napkin, handing it over. "That's my cell phone number. I've got a lot to do this week, but I'm free Friday. How's Friday?"

He slowly took the napkin with the number, folding it up and stuffing it into his pocket with a nod. "I'm free on Friday."

"Awesome, I'll come get you whenever you're done here and we'll get you a few stuff," I grinned excitedly. "Thank you for letting me make you suffer like this."

"It's definitely not suffering," he sighed.

I went silent, wishing he was a bit more excited than he looked. I guess I could only get so much out of him. We cleaned up all the trash littered around, realizing that we had been gone for over an hour and that Dad was probably waiting for us. I nearly tripped over myself on the way back and he caught me on our way back. We caught Eric's attention on the way when he still had his arm around me, and the disgusted and shocked look on the receptionist's face was just too hilarious. To top it off, I caught Kenny giving poor Eric a smug wink, making the situation even more awkward than it already was.

I burst into laughter when we were in the elevator, pushing away from him. There were a couple others in there who gave us weird looks, checking us from far away from any sign of substance abuse before concluding that we were probably just being morons. The amusement ended when another figure entered the elevator. Tall, Armani suit, looked like me... Oh sweet baby Jesus. Connor raised an eyebrow when he saw me in there, looking from me to Kenny.

"Sixth floor, Callie?" he asked, though he kept his eyes on Kenny, wondering why he was there.

"No, fourth floor," I quickly answered, pushing the fourth floor button.

"What on earth are you doing on the fourth floor?" he asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"What aren't you doing on the fourth floor?" I said bluntly, looking to Kenny.

He looked confused as hell, but he seemed to understand that it was for the best not to let Connor know that he was working there. Connor would have gone apeshit. As soon as the door opened, I grabbed Kenny's sleeve and dragged him out with me, not looking back until I heard the door close again.

"Um," he awkwardly looked around at the cubicles of the fourth floor, "So who was that?"

"My brother."

"And why are we afraid of him?"

"His job is below yours."

"Oh, fan-fucking-tastic."

I giggled nervously, leading him to the staircase, where we took the stairs back up to the sixth floor. He seemed to understand the Connor situation pretty well. He seemed to understand a lot more than I thought he would. Well, other than the concept of a dress code. Kim let us right inside, where my father had his chair reclined, playing some game on his phone. He quickly fixed his posture when he saw us, giving a bright smile when he saw that we weren't ripping each other's hair out or giving each other black eyes.

"I was about to call you, Cal. Didn't think it would take that long," he smiled, putting the phone down.

"Yeah, well, I won't bug you anymore. I'll see you at home, Dad."

"Ah, you're feeling better?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah," I nodded quickly. "Bye Daddy."

I slipped out the door before he could say anything else, sighing softly in relief at getting that over with. Well, to an extent. He still didn't know what I did. But I did tell someone. That was good enough for me.