Rags to Riches
Callie
I moved through the racks of clothing along the walls of the small men's store we were in, sighing softly and waiting for Kenny to come out. I had given the poor kid a mountain of clothes to try on and expected him to show me all of them. Not just that, but match the colors right, too. I pulled out a light yellow polo, looking up at the salesman.
"Do you guys have this in a medium?" I asked.
"Jesus Christ, let me breathe, Callie!" Kenny called out from the dressing room.
I sighed softly, putting the shirt back. "How're you doing in there?"
"Uh, fine," he answered slowly, pausing before continuing. "Does the green polo go with khaki?"
"No, the blue button up goes with the khaki," I laughed softly, shaking my head.
The salesman just looked bored, since we had been in there for so long. Apparently he recognized me because my brother shopped there often, so we didn't get the same uncomfortable looks that that we got in the other stores.
"Calliope?" he called again.
"Yes, Kenneth?" I sighed, turning to move to the door he was behind.
"How did you roll up the sleeves where the print thing was supposed to show underneath?"
"Are you wearing pants? Open the door and I'll show you," I laughed.
He did as I said, swinging the door open. I caught him straightening himself out as best he could in the mirror. It was funny how different a person looks when they wear nice clothes. The long khaki pants were just the right length, and complimented him far more than whatever he had been wearing before. I assumed his fathers clothes, since it was so big. The shirt for just right, showing that there was a decent body under all those baggy clothes. He looked really nice. Teenage hormones. They were doing it again. Goddamn.
I reached out and started to roll his sleeves up, explaining how I was doing it so that the print underneath showed so he could do it himself next time. My fingers lingered there for a moment when I saw the intricate design on his skin underneath. I wasn't used to seeing tattoos on kids my age, since there was such a strict dress code at most of the private schools. He caught me staring, seemingly waiting for a reaction.
"You have tattoos?" I asked, looking up.
"Huh. You really are your father's daughter," he muttered, ignoring my question and rolling the rest of the sleeve up himself.
I swatted his hand away and adjusted it to match the other one, then proceeded to straighten out the rest of his appearance. Thankfully, he was fashionably competent enough to figure most of it out. I just had to fix the collar of the shirt and unbutton the top of it, where he had buttoned it just a little too high.
"This isn't church, Kenny," I teased, though he just rolled his eyes like he didn't get what a big deal it was.
I pulled my handy dandy comb out of my purse and combed his hair back. It looked like he had tried to do it himself, but sloppily and in a rush. I fixed it up for him and spun him around to face the mirror with an excited grin as I waited for his reaction. He went slightly wide eyed when he saw himself, turning a bit to look at himself from all other angles and reaching up to see what I had done to his hair.
"Well?" I asked, nudging him gently.
"Well," he muttered. "I don't look like me."
"Yeah, but do you like it?" I frowned.
"Sure. It's fine."
I sighed in defeat, giving him a plastered on smile and going out of the dressing room. Who cares if he hates it, right? It's not like he had a choice. I pursed my lips and grabbed the yellow shirt, deciding that if he was going to be that way, I was going to bring him more to try on. When I came back, he didn't notice me. He was far too interested in his own reflection, modeling for himself and making faces in the mirror. I suppressed an amused giggle, but he caught me there.
"I wasn't growing fond of it, if that's what you were thinking," he snapped, taking the shirt out of my hands and closing the door.
.::.::.::.::.
"Your total is-"
I shushed the salesman before he finished, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Kenny wasn't listening. The guy seemed to catch my drift, waiting until Kenny got distracted by the display of wallets before spinning around the sign on the cash register to show me the grand total of everything. Four shirts and three pairs of pants, plus another shirt and pair of pants that Kenny was wearing, since I refused to let him change back into what he had before.
$538.92
Beauty is pain. I handed over my credit card, waiting impatiently for the transaction to be over and crumpling the receipt up, stuffing it in my purse to hide all evidence of money being spent. I nodded towards the door, busily thinking up excuses for the spike in men's clothing purchases that was sure to appear on the bill my dad checks. I noticed Kenny look a bit dazed, glancing around at everyone. It looked like he wasn't used to being ignored by them. He blended in with the designer outdoor mall, so no one could even guess that he was anything other than one of them.
"So, uh, where to?" he asked me, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
I looked around, spotting a store nearby and linking arms with him with a bright smile.
"Kate Spade," I told him, dragging him towards the colorful little boutique.
"Who?" he asked.
"It's the name of the store, dummy," I laughed, dragging him inside.
He watched and followed with a bored expression while I examined everything inside. I could tell he wasn't the shopping type, but didn't have the guts to complain after I spent so much money on him. I slung a red and white striped tote over my shoulder, turning to the side and looking over at him.
"Yay or nay?" I asked.
"Nay," he wrinkled his nose. "It looks like a circus tent."
The saleswoman raised an eyebrow at him and he just shrugged, clearly not giving two shits about insulting Miss Kate Spade, whoever she was. I shook my head with a smile and put the tote back. He followed me around and exaggerated his boredom, trying to convince me to leave.
"You guys make a cute couple," the saleswoman chuckled, making us both freeze up.
"Oh, we're not-" I started to explain, but Kenny cut me off.
"Yeah, don't we?" he sighed dramatically. "Sadly, it can't last. I live down in Southern California. You know, near Hollywood. I have a beach house at Newport Beach."
I just rolled my eyes at the blanket of lies, looking through the jewelry display.
"Wow, the houses in Newport are really nice," she said, intently listening.
"They're quaint, I guess. Not really what I'm used to, but it'll do," he shrugged.
"What did you say your name was again?" the saleswoman asked, now a little bit flirty even though she was much older than he was.
"Caledon," Kenny responded with a smile. "Caledon Hockley."
And to my surprise, she believed him. Or she was thinking so hard about how fantastically rich he was that she hadn't even recognized the name Cal Hockley as the billionaire from the famous movie, Titanic.
"We have to go," I interrupted, taking his hand and dragging him out.
"I was having fun," he whined, following me out. "What, you're mad because she thought I was out of your league?"
"Watch what you say, you work for my dad," I warned.
"Fair enough," he chuckled. "But hey, at least we make a cute couple."
"Buy me a blue diamond necklace and take me to your beach house in Newport, and then maybe I'll think about it," I said sarcastically, "By the way, what's your address? I'll take you home."
"Take me back to TechNet and I'll walk," he said, the smile disappearing.
"Uh, why?" I asked.
"Because that's what I asked you to do," he said bluntly.
I didn't ask any more questions, doing as he said. One minute he was a billionaire, the next he was threateningly defensive. I drove him back to TechNet, looking around when it was starting to get dark.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home? There's rapists and muggers that come out at night," I gave him a concerned look. He didn't look me in the eye, his lips pursed into a tight line.
"I can handle it."
"Alright," I sighed, leaning back in the chair and pausing for a few moments. "Well, I wish you luck with TechNet."
"Huh?" he glanced up at me, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.
"I mean, we're probably not going to see each other anymore unless it's coincidence. So I'm wishing you luck," I shrugged.
"Oh," he blinked in surprise, as if he had just realized that there was no reason for us to see each other again. "And to you too, I guess."
"You have my number if you need anything," I tried to lighten the awkward mood a bit. "You know, in case you forget how to roll up your sleeves."
"I learned from the best," he smirked, giving me a little wave before closing the car door behind him and walking the opposite way down the sidewalk.
I watched him go, debating whether or not I should follow him. He'd surely notice. I just didn't want anyone to jump out and hold a knife to his throat. I shook the thought from my mind, pulling away from the curb and heading home. He was smart enough to stay out of trouble.
"Do you guys have this in a medium?" I asked.
"Jesus Christ, let me breathe, Callie!" Kenny called out from the dressing room.
I sighed softly, putting the shirt back. "How're you doing in there?"
"Uh, fine," he answered slowly, pausing before continuing. "Does the green polo go with khaki?"
"No, the blue button up goes with the khaki," I laughed softly, shaking my head.
The salesman just looked bored, since we had been in there for so long. Apparently he recognized me because my brother shopped there often, so we didn't get the same uncomfortable looks that that we got in the other stores.
"Calliope?" he called again.
"Yes, Kenneth?" I sighed, turning to move to the door he was behind.
"How did you roll up the sleeves where the print thing was supposed to show underneath?"
"Are you wearing pants? Open the door and I'll show you," I laughed.
He did as I said, swinging the door open. I caught him straightening himself out as best he could in the mirror. It was funny how different a person looks when they wear nice clothes. The long khaki pants were just the right length, and complimented him far more than whatever he had been wearing before. I assumed his fathers clothes, since it was so big. The shirt for just right, showing that there was a decent body under all those baggy clothes. He looked really nice. Teenage hormones. They were doing it again. Goddamn.
I reached out and started to roll his sleeves up, explaining how I was doing it so that the print underneath showed so he could do it himself next time. My fingers lingered there for a moment when I saw the intricate design on his skin underneath. I wasn't used to seeing tattoos on kids my age, since there was such a strict dress code at most of the private schools. He caught me staring, seemingly waiting for a reaction.
"You have tattoos?" I asked, looking up.
"Huh. You really are your father's daughter," he muttered, ignoring my question and rolling the rest of the sleeve up himself.
I swatted his hand away and adjusted it to match the other one, then proceeded to straighten out the rest of his appearance. Thankfully, he was fashionably competent enough to figure most of it out. I just had to fix the collar of the shirt and unbutton the top of it, where he had buttoned it just a little too high.
"This isn't church, Kenny," I teased, though he just rolled his eyes like he didn't get what a big deal it was.
I pulled my handy dandy comb out of my purse and combed his hair back. It looked like he had tried to do it himself, but sloppily and in a rush. I fixed it up for him and spun him around to face the mirror with an excited grin as I waited for his reaction. He went slightly wide eyed when he saw himself, turning a bit to look at himself from all other angles and reaching up to see what I had done to his hair.
"Well?" I asked, nudging him gently.
"Well," he muttered. "I don't look like me."
"Yeah, but do you like it?" I frowned.
"Sure. It's fine."
I sighed in defeat, giving him a plastered on smile and going out of the dressing room. Who cares if he hates it, right? It's not like he had a choice. I pursed my lips and grabbed the yellow shirt, deciding that if he was going to be that way, I was going to bring him more to try on. When I came back, he didn't notice me. He was far too interested in his own reflection, modeling for himself and making faces in the mirror. I suppressed an amused giggle, but he caught me there.
"I wasn't growing fond of it, if that's what you were thinking," he snapped, taking the shirt out of my hands and closing the door.
.::.::.::.::.
"Your total is-"
I shushed the salesman before he finished, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Kenny wasn't listening. The guy seemed to catch my drift, waiting until Kenny got distracted by the display of wallets before spinning around the sign on the cash register to show me the grand total of everything. Four shirts and three pairs of pants, plus another shirt and pair of pants that Kenny was wearing, since I refused to let him change back into what he had before.
$538.92
Beauty is pain. I handed over my credit card, waiting impatiently for the transaction to be over and crumpling the receipt up, stuffing it in my purse to hide all evidence of money being spent. I nodded towards the door, busily thinking up excuses for the spike in men's clothing purchases that was sure to appear on the bill my dad checks. I noticed Kenny look a bit dazed, glancing around at everyone. It looked like he wasn't used to being ignored by them. He blended in with the designer outdoor mall, so no one could even guess that he was anything other than one of them.
"So, uh, where to?" he asked me, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
I looked around, spotting a store nearby and linking arms with him with a bright smile.
"Kate Spade," I told him, dragging him towards the colorful little boutique.
"Who?" he asked.
"It's the name of the store, dummy," I laughed, dragging him inside.
He watched and followed with a bored expression while I examined everything inside. I could tell he wasn't the shopping type, but didn't have the guts to complain after I spent so much money on him. I slung a red and white striped tote over my shoulder, turning to the side and looking over at him.
"Yay or nay?" I asked.
"Nay," he wrinkled his nose. "It looks like a circus tent."
The saleswoman raised an eyebrow at him and he just shrugged, clearly not giving two shits about insulting Miss Kate Spade, whoever she was. I shook my head with a smile and put the tote back. He followed me around and exaggerated his boredom, trying to convince me to leave.
"You guys make a cute couple," the saleswoman chuckled, making us both freeze up.
"Oh, we're not-" I started to explain, but Kenny cut me off.
"Yeah, don't we?" he sighed dramatically. "Sadly, it can't last. I live down in Southern California. You know, near Hollywood. I have a beach house at Newport Beach."
I just rolled my eyes at the blanket of lies, looking through the jewelry display.
"Wow, the houses in Newport are really nice," she said, intently listening.
"They're quaint, I guess. Not really what I'm used to, but it'll do," he shrugged.
"What did you say your name was again?" the saleswoman asked, now a little bit flirty even though she was much older than he was.
"Caledon," Kenny responded with a smile. "Caledon Hockley."
And to my surprise, she believed him. Or she was thinking so hard about how fantastically rich he was that she hadn't even recognized the name Cal Hockley as the billionaire from the famous movie, Titanic.
"We have to go," I interrupted, taking his hand and dragging him out.
"I was having fun," he whined, following me out. "What, you're mad because she thought I was out of your league?"
"Watch what you say, you work for my dad," I warned.
"Fair enough," he chuckled. "But hey, at least we make a cute couple."
"Buy me a blue diamond necklace and take me to your beach house in Newport, and then maybe I'll think about it," I said sarcastically, "By the way, what's your address? I'll take you home."
"Take me back to TechNet and I'll walk," he said, the smile disappearing.
"Uh, why?" I asked.
"Because that's what I asked you to do," he said bluntly.
I didn't ask any more questions, doing as he said. One minute he was a billionaire, the next he was threateningly defensive. I drove him back to TechNet, looking around when it was starting to get dark.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home? There's rapists and muggers that come out at night," I gave him a concerned look. He didn't look me in the eye, his lips pursed into a tight line.
"I can handle it."
"Alright," I sighed, leaning back in the chair and pausing for a few moments. "Well, I wish you luck with TechNet."
"Huh?" he glanced up at me, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.
"I mean, we're probably not going to see each other anymore unless it's coincidence. So I'm wishing you luck," I shrugged.
"Oh," he blinked in surprise, as if he had just realized that there was no reason for us to see each other again. "And to you too, I guess."
"You have my number if you need anything," I tried to lighten the awkward mood a bit. "You know, in case you forget how to roll up your sleeves."
"I learned from the best," he smirked, giving me a little wave before closing the car door behind him and walking the opposite way down the sidewalk.
I watched him go, debating whether or not I should follow him. He'd surely notice. I just didn't want anyone to jump out and hold a knife to his throat. I shook the thought from my mind, pulling away from the curb and heading home. He was smart enough to stay out of trouble.
♠ ♠ ♠
So um yeah hi