Snow White and the Seven Popstars

Chapter Two

     "ENGAGED?!" To say Whitney was shocked would be an understatement. "As in... to be married?!"

     "Yes, of course," Gina said dismissively, coming around the desk. "Have an apple." She picked one up from a fruit basket on her desk and held it out to Whitney with a sickeningly sweet smile.

     "I can't. I'm allergic, remember?" She crossed her arms.

     "Oh. Right." Gina set the apple back in the basket. 

     Whitney felt a little hurt that her own stepmother didn't remember she had a life-threatening allergy but tried not to show it. 

     "Why would I be getting engaged?" she asked.

     "It's merely a business proposition," Gina quickly clarified. "You only have to be engaged for six months, and then you can end it." She pulled out the seat and indicated for Whitney to sit in it with her fake smile still in place. "Here, have a seat."

     Whitney stood firm. "Why. Would. I. Get. Engaged?"

      Gina looked irritated, but she was holding herself together surprisingly well. Apparently, she really wanted Whitney to sign it.

     "Because of this man right here." Gina picked a remote up from her desk, pointed at the wall to Whitney's left, and pressed a button. A screen that covered the whole wall lit up, and on it was a picture of someone close to Whitney's age. He looked vaguely familiar to her.

     Gina continued talking. "He's one of the biggest up-and-coming stars in the world right now with a net worth of nearly a billion already. Recently, he split from his former producer and is now considering our company. With the income we could generate from him, our company's problems could be solved. For good." Gina paused. When she started again, she was speaking in a slower, more gentle way like when explaining something unpleasant to a small child. "One of his stipulations was this." She indicated with her head towards the contract still in Whitney's hands.

     Whitney looked down at it, a mess of thoughts and feelings running rampant through her brain. Gina took her silence as an opportunity to explain something about him recently breaking up and wanting to make it look like he's moved on, but Whitney didn't really hear her. The storm inside her kept circling back to a single, painful thought.

     "You're selling me off?" The words were little louder than a whisper, but Gina must have heard them because she stopped talking immediately. Whitney's eyes burned into hers.

     "Of course not!" Gina said in a soothing tone. "It is entirely your choice. Howev--"

     "Then I choose no," Whitney interrupted.

     "HOWEVER," Gina cut back in, "if you say no, chances are your father's company will go down the drain."

     "But it's not my father's company anymore, now is it?!"

     "Is there anything I haven't done for you?" Gina shouted. Whitney rolled her eyes. "I have given you everything you might want. You have a job, a roof over your head, clothing, food, opportunities--"

     "I wanted to go to college!" Whitney shot back. "And you wouldn't help me pay for it."

     Gina paused and seemed to change tactics. "We could change that. Sign the contract, and I'll make sure you don't have to pay a cent for college."

     Whitney looked back to the contract in her hands before dropping it. It hit the floor with a loud noise, and a few papers slid out of place. She spun around and stalked out of the room, ignoring Gina's demands to come back.

* * * * * * * * * *

     When Whitney first got home, she was still seething. She stormed into the kitchen where her cleaning supplies were waiting and briefly considered not finishing the job but decided the work may help her work her anger out. She grabbed her brush and began violently scrubbing the floor.

     I can't believe she would even consider that! Hot tears began to cloud her vision. I know things are rough for the company right now, but I'm her daugh--well, stepdaughter! Doesn't she care at all what I may think or feel?! A few tears spilled over her cheeks.

     By the time she was finished, the floor had never been cleaner.

* * * * * * * * * *

     In the late afternoon, she sat in her room looking out the window. Clouds had moved in and it was now raining. She no longer felt angry or even sad. There was just this overpowering feeling of being emotionally drained. She had showered and changed and was now brushing her hair. She wasn't really thinking of anything in particular. She didn't even realize she was making a decision until after she had made it.

     She was leaving. Moving out. If Gina hadn't given her the money for college before she refused to sign, there was no way she'd give it to her now. Plus, Whitney just wanted to get out. She wanted to be out there doing things and meeting people--but avoiding crowds. She didn't want Gina always micromanaging her life and Corvina always breathing down her neck. She wanted freedom. 

     But how? She felt the excitement of the new prospect, nerves all humming and ablaze, and she realized she didn't care how. She was going.

     She actually smiled for the first time in years.

* * * * * * * * * *

     In the Carlin Enterprises building, Gina was also looking out the window, but she was not smiling. She was still feeling angry about earlier. The child had refused to sign the contract, and now she had to use Plan B. 

     Her secretary peeked her head in. "Umm, Mrs. Carlin? There's a Brielle Hunter to see you?" she squeaked.

     "Let her in." She really needed to fire her secretary. The girl was entirely too mouse-like. Unfortunately, that would have to wait.

     "Cute secretary." The new voice cut into her thoughts and she had to fight back her smile.

     "Don't remind me," she groaned jokingly. "I'm going to get a new one as soon as this deal goes through."

     She turned around to see Bree standing across the room from her with her arms crossed and the familiar smirk on her face.

     "She doesn't seem so bad to me," Bree said shrugging. "She's perhaps a little tense. Then again, who wouldn't be when they're working for you?"

     "You've never been like that," Gina stated.

     "Yes, well, I knew you before all this." Bree gestured to the room around her.

     Gina thought back. She hadn't realized how long they'd known each other. She met Bree when she was around Whitney's age, only a year or two out of high school.

     "But . . . you didn't call me here to reminisce or to talk about your secretary." Bree looked hard at Gina as if she could read the answer on her face. "What's up?"

     "I need to ask a favor."

     Bree heaved a deep sigh.

     "I know I've asked you for a lot of favors before and I'm deeply indebted to you. This is the last favor, I promise."

     Bree looked at her skeptically.

     "Really." Bree looked to the ground and began drawing patterns with the toe of her boot as Gina continued. "It's important, Bree. My company depends on it."

     "You still call me 'Bree?'"

     Gina winced as she realized what she just did. "I meant, Brielle."

     "Don't worry about it," Bree said nonchalantly, but her smirk came back. "I don't mind. So." She quickly changed the subject. "Who do you need me to incriminate this time?"

     "Ever hear of Whitney Carlin?"