Beards

Happy Freaking Birthday to Me

"Come on Rose, just hurry up." I stared in my vanity mirror. My new pearls rested on my collar bone. It was the day before my 21st birthday. I cleaned up my lipstick on the angles of my lips and sprayed a dash of perfume on my wrist. "Rotten child! Let's go!" I calmly rubbed my right wrist on my left and stood up slowly. I opened one of my double doors and smiled.

"Good morning Ursula." I smiled politely. Before she could speak, I brushed past her slowly and walked down the carpeted hallway to the grand foyer. Martin, our butler, waited patiently with my luggage, Mauve leather bags imported from India, a trip father made two months ago. They were my current favorite present, next to my pearls.

"Good morning Rosamund!" He chirped.

"Mornin' Tin man!" I replied. He gave me a high five. I could hear Ursula stomp down the stairs but I didn't turn around. Instead I decided to bother her just a little more.

"Can you please have Janet make me some eggs benedict and pan-sautéed potatoes with a bit of tarragon, oh and a large flat white coffee." Martin chuckled.

"Oh no you don't, you decided to sleep in, we have one hour before your plane departs and your dad is on the private jet, so you have to fly commercial. March!" She pointed at the door. I hugged Martin goodbye and he opened the right door. I buttoned up my cashmere winter coat as I walked down the path to the car. Two men in suits trailed behind me with my things. Oscar, our driver, opened the door for me and I smoothly sat down. The door slammed next to me and we were off.

"Gate 34, that's the other side of the airport!" I said to myself. Quickly I closed my passport and took a tighter grip of my handbag. My heels were making it difficult for me to rush through the hallway and the smooth slippery floors were no help either. I flagged down a golf cart and hopped on. This was the first time I was being allowed to travel alone. I always had someone next to me, telling me where to go and what to do. The man pulled over and I finally saw my gate.

"Attention passengers, would Ms. Covington please report to gate 34." I rushed to the table. The lady in a blue uniform smiled fakely.

"Ms. Covington?"

"That's me" I said awkwardly. She had red lipstick on her teeth and on the white boarders of her uniform seams. She reviewed my ticket and my passport.

"Alright, you may board the plane, have a safe flight." I went through the glass doors down the tunnel hallway on to the plane. I was flying first class, father bought the two front seats to the left on the plane when you board. I sat down on the window seat and set my bag next to me. My stomach grumbled, I still hadn't eaten.

"Tall flat white for... Rosie-mind." read the barista. Even in London, they butcher my name. I grabbed my drink and wheeled my cart with my bags on it down the Heathrow airport. By the doors a man in a chauffeur hat and suit held up a sign with my name on it. There's my ride. Midnight. Happy birthday to me. I was staying at the Amba Hotel Charing Cross, the presidential suite, as always. It was a five-star hotel, yes five-star, and they lost my reservation. I sat down in their lobby and looked at my phone. Who should I call? I can't call father, Nadine my assistant was on vacation. I opened my pocketbook and pulled out my master card. I'd have to book my own room. The room was horrible for a five-star hotel. The hotel was very busy during the holidays and it was all they had available. I struggled with my bags as I tried to unpack. Who could be in my suite? I grumbled to myself. What a birthday. I decided to sleep a bit and forget about this error.

3pm! I slept 15 hours, on my birthday! I stretched and quickly showered. I needed to buy something to wear for tonight. I was still feeling jet lagged but I powered through and went shopping. I met up with my good friend Olive. She lives here in London and was here for my birthday. After shopping for 2 hours we stopped at a small bistro to eat.