Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo
Adriana's P.O.V.
The clock stroke nine and I was fixedly positioned, openly ogling the lustrous glass built, fifty story structure.
I mustered up the audacity to intensely inspect my appearance through the slightly dark tinged glass. The strikingly pure red sweatshirt that worked as securing my upper body parts appeared archaic and overused, and the detested hole present in the hem certainly proved so. My barely awake eyes involuntarily traveled downwards in order to get a better access to staring at my pants that were light washed and extremely loose-fitted, to my satisfaction. Last but most certainly not least, my white converse shoes were no longer resembling the color white, it was an utterly spontaneous combination of bronze, black and green.
My average daily attire wasn't as appealing to others, but I never dressed to impress a soul. My ever so optimistic self arose; the clothes were exceptionally comfortable.
Inhaling followed by exhaling four times later, I eventually authorized myself to access through the automatic double doors. The exact second my feet came in contact with the light marble tiles, soft murmurs and ever so loud whispers erupted in the highly monumental floor. My anxious self managed to disregard all the juicy gossip ridden mumbles.
All the gratitude to my outstanding memory lane, I rode the elevator to his floor. Once the elevator dinged open, I slowly strolled towards the front desk. Much to my satisfaction and surprise, I was gladly welcomed with someone other than the rude and ill-mannered woman I encountered in the previous visit. With a bright smile, she requested of me to take a seat, as I waited for him to end his meeting.
His door finally flew open, revealing a gruff old man dressed in some dark slacks, exiting but shaking Morgan's firm hand before doing so. Once the man was out of sight, I rose and walked towards Morgan's location. As soon as his dark orbs spotted my presence, his overall mood took a whole three hundred and sixty degree. In his apparent aggravated state, he walked into his office, the door remaining wide open for me to enter, and so I did.
Morgan placed himself in the swivel chair that resided right behind his glass made desk, that appeared much more organized than my previous visit. He crossed his muscles ridden arms over his chest, and swung his feet above and adjusted them on the table. My eyes dilated at his horrific actions. Well then. The unimpressive tedious expression that always seemed to be masking his features was undoubtedly present. I adjusted myself right in front of his desk, waiting patiently for his majesty's instructions. His eyes shamelessly eyed me from head to toe, and once he was finally done, he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
"You better wish this is a joke," a brow of mine arose a millimeter or so at his words, in utter confusion.
"Excuse me?"
"You're rather dressed for a vagrant exhibition, not work, at a highly respected place, might I add." his insults were nothing new or shocking. I adapted myself towards them, but that didn't signal I would let them slide every single occasion. My eyes traveled down to my attire, and I carelessly shrugged.
"Well, excuse me for not dressing up like I work at a brothel, like the other women here," I stated nothing but the horrid truth; women residing here held something against clothing. Which was exceptionally unprofessional, if you asked me. His brow involuntarily rose at my insensitive words.
"Those women dress to impress, not distress," he motioned towards my figure and my eyes squinted, attempting to glare at him.
"Those whom have no respect for women would obviously carry an opinion like that," I smiled in triumph and he took it upon him to glare.
"Oh, I respect women, but I don't see one here," I almost gasped at his words. How on Earth would he have the audacity to say such a thing?
"Oh, that's funny, I actually see two." once that was said, I knew I won the battle. His legs lowered to the ground and he stood up, marching my way. My eyes dilated and I wondered what he was going to do, but he marched right past me to the shelf, that occupied many files, color coded and neatly arranged. He pulled out a stack of papers and returned back to his original domain, throwing the papers on the table, and they landed with a loud thud. He slapped a pen above the stack of papers and resumed sitting.
"Sign," he simply said. I was shocked that he possessed no reply for my past words, but I didn't put much thought into it.
"What's this for?" I inquired curiously.
"The deal," I mumbled an incoherent
'oh' and made an attempt to scan through the the papers. As soon as I did, he spoke up.
"Just sign them,"
"I'm not like the dumb girls in movies who sign contracts then end up selling themselves to their masters or something," I inaudibly muttered and he shot me a weirded out look.
My eyes skimmed the pages and it stated I were to be in this mess for three months to be exact. I were to attend all events or any such thing Morgan requested, to seem like an amazing partner in the eye of the public, to not tell a soul about this and so on.
A barely audible jittering sound erupted in the surprisingly quite room. The door opened, revealing Marco. A vibrant smile was on his slightly aging face, which seemed odd since he appeared intimidating and deadly.
"Good morning," he nodded at both of us, with extreme enthusiasm laced to his voice.
"How are the lovebirds doing this morning?" he cracked a smile and Morgan immediately scowled at his statement as I restrained myself from allowing the food present in my stomach from escaping.
"Just read," with a sigh, Marco flipped through the booklet he gripped with both of his hands. My eyes stared at him, pouring with excessive curiosity.
"Alrighty, where shall I begin?" he cleared his throat, pulling out his reading glasses.
"So, there are more things to this deal that you must oblige to," he began and I internally sighed at his dreaded words. "As you know, you must attend all we request of you, have acting skills that resemble an Oscar winner, not speak of this to anyone etcetera. " he paused. "However, there are a few more. Dear, I'll have you know I adore sweatshirts, but the material world doesn't, so I'm afraid we have to lose that, and replace it with a Chanel gown. Concerning your attitude, Ryder here," he pointed at him, "Claims you need a little help with it."
"The antonym of little actually," Ryder voluntarily pitched in and that earned him nothing but a deadly stare from none other than me.
"I see someone here needs help with their attitude too," Marco muttered and in an accusing manner, I couldn't help but unattractively snicker at that.
"Someone agrees with me," my lips quiver upwards and so did Marco's.
"Continue." Ryder sternly commanded and Marco happily obliged.
"Anyways, as I was saying, you'll be trained on how to cope with the material world, so don't you worry. You'll learn how to act, speak, dress and all that like a proper lady. You both are free to pursue whomever you desire, as long as you don't get caught, because if you do, there will be some serious problems. Once the three months are over, you're free to go with the amount you requested. With that said, may the odds be ever in your favor." he saluted us then placed himself in one of the white coated leather chairs.
I allowed every single detail plastered on those papers to gradually sink in. As my mind initiated processing the contents, I felt nothing but pity for myself. They were practically going to transform me into a completely divergent person.
I placed the papers back down on the table, and held the pen firmly in my hands. My grip was extremely tight and my knuckles altered into a white color. The ink came in contact with the paper and I slowly scribbled the first letter to my signature. I allowed myself to take a break and inhale deeply before I resumed.
I managed to muster up some courage and quickly write down the remaining letters. Once the torture was over, the papers were slipped from under my hands and the clicking sound of heels enveloped my ears. I turned around and only to be welcomed by the woman in the front desk last time, whom wasn't pleasant to be around. Her blood red dyed hair was cascading down her back in pin straight locks, her pale light skin and pale sea blue eyes contrasted one another. Heavily applied makeup cosmetics were splashed into her features and she wore a tight fitted white collared shirt that wasn't buttoned till the top, revealing an excessive amount of cleavage. A black vest top was acquainted by the white shirt, and a black skirt that showed off her slight curves and mountain long legs 'covered' her lower region. Last but most certainly not least, her feet were secured by dark colored death traps.
"Mr. Morgan, you asked?" her sickeningly snobby voice rang in my ears, forming a headache.
"Fax that file over there to my lawyers," she beamed at him but he did nothing but ignore her overall existence. After he threw the instructions at her, he began splashing the ink on his papers. It amazed me how he kept his cold and stone hard demeanor when she was shamelessly eyeing him, as if he was a slice of a juicy, tender steak.
He halted writing and stared upwards at her,"You can go now, Miss Wilden." she collected herself and her death traps clicked their way out. Marco began chuckling out of nowhere.
"Never gets old," Morgan just smirked at him.
"Marco, usher her to the car waiting downstairs,"
"Wait, what?" I finally spoke.
"You're starting your needed transition today. " was all he said before writing once again. I had no voice in the current situation and that killed my being.
"Let's go, dear," Marco opened the door for me to exit, but before leaving I heard his voice in my ears once again, much to my utter dismay.
"Oh, and, I could easily prove my masculinity." I stood confused before his words registered in my mind. The sly comment I made earlier, right. "Doubt and uncertainty are laced with your statement." without giving him a glance, I exited, slamming the door shut.
I couldn't believe I just did that. I sold myself to the devil. I was in for quite a ride.
Marco and I rode the elevator in utter silence, but it was cut short.
"You were quiet in there, how are you feeling about all of this?" his face masked a genuine look, exposing the wrinkles present near his eyes.
"I know I'm going to regret this for the rest of my life, but there's this one thought that's pulling me through," the elevator doors rang open and we both strolled out and towards the glittering glass doors. He didn't respond throughout the whole walk, but as he opened the dark limousines door for me to adjust myself inside, he spoke.
"A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes." he paused, "So keep that thought with you throughout the whole ride." my lips unintentionally rose upwards.
"Ghandi," I softly mumbled.
"Indeed. Try to rub off some of those brain cells of yours on him," he winked as I entered, thinking of his words. My eyes finally caught sight of the three people present in the car.
"Adriana!" Melanie beamed at my figure. My surprised self smiled back at them.
"Melanie," my eyes drifted towards the other two,"Scooter and Trisha, hey." I awkwardly muttered as they smiled.
"What are you guys doing here?" I questioned in my state of confusion.
"We're your fairy godmothers!" Melanie exclaimed with so much enthusiasm, ignoring Scooter's scowl.
"I believe we don't share the same gender, Melanie" he sassily remarked and she chuckled in return.
"But, we sure as hell share the same wardrobe," she gestured towards his flower patterned scarf.
"Oh, for the love of God, pink flowers aren't feminine!" he defensively exclaimed.
"Uh huh," Melanie and Trisha sang. I decided to sneak my way into the conversation that I was sadly pushed out of.
"One question, will there be any pain involved this time," I stared at Scooter, recalling the waxing torture that I was forced to endure last time.
"Don't worry, love, I won't hurt you as much," he sarcastically smiled and I gulped in horror. Numerous tragic scenarios played in my mind like a broken record.
"What's that supposed to mean?! That was not mentioned earlier," I argued but he only chuckled at my dread.
"Relax, darling, only pain you'll endure is seven hours of walking in a shopping center overflowing with teenagers," his deep chuckle welcomed all of us.
The car ride consisted of me shivering from fear, Scooter being the prime source behind it, and Melanie and Trisha beaming about God knew what.
The dark coated vehicle finally halted in front of a mall that was packed with teenagers flying in through the doors and out. As soon as I unbuckled and allowed my foot to step out and be greeted by the concrete ground, a mass of people dressed in black and clutching a photographic camera commenced snapping pictures of me. I squealed in surprise and quickly took hold of my hoodie, concealing a partial amount of myself. Scooter took advantage of the situation, and shot multiple poses for the paparazzi. However, their attention was focused on none other than me. I clutched his wrist and dragged him with me inside of the safety of the mall. The cameras without a doubt chased us four, but they were stopped by the bulky body guards patrolling the entrance. Once we were in the clear, I exhaled a sigh of relief as he initiated whining about the wind's mistake in messing up his perfectly gelled hair.
"Well ladies," Scooter's coughing that resembled a hyena echoed through the place," and oh so masculine men, he smiled in satisfaction. "Let's shop 'till Adriana resembles Scooter!" two groans were clearly heard. From who? That's for you to find out.
• • • • • • •
Shopping consisted of me chasing after the three musketeers like a lost puppy in the midst of distress. We strolled in and out of stores, the card swiping the machine hundreds and hundreds of times, and me asking "are we done yet" numerous times a minute.
"No pencil skirts,"
"Oh, yeah sure, let's get more trash bags that you call jeans and have you wear them daily," the sass that Scooter owned was unreal.
"You know nothing about fashion," I playfully spat at his retort.
"My flower scarf says otherwise,"
"It's says nothing but burn me, " Melanie stated as she examined the clothing.
"You wound both of us," he clutched his scarf defensively.
"As I was saying, I'm not wearing skirts at work, never." they all ignored and did nothing but shove more clothes into my arms and pull me to the changing room, for the thirtieth time.
I tried on long flowing gowns of different textures and colors, piece of fabric that only managed to cover my chest, blazers, summer dresses, jeans and the list sadly continued.
Melanie shoved a navy blue excessively revealing dress, instructing me to try it on. "Melanie, prostitution isn't in my college application," I stated. "Well, it's going to be, starting from today. Now shoo," she waved me off and I locked myself up inside of the dressing room. I payed no attention to the dress as I carefully wore it, since there was now way I would purchase such a thing. The only concealed parts would be a quarter of my derrière and stomach.
That was a bit of an exaggeration, but still. Exiting the room, A high pitched whistle was heard from Melanie.
She waved her finger at my body, as if it were a magic wand. "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo, bitch. Aurora would have never looked this hot," a red hue spread throughout my checks at her words. What I was thankful for, though, was that she was oblivious to the faint blemishes marked on my flesh.
"I'm not getting this," with a shake of my head and a groan from Melanie, I marched back and changed.
From there, we continued our voyage. They purchased pencil skirts and heels, ignoring every single time I denied. But I had my way somehow, and bought trousers.
We roamed the entire building, hearing murmurs and whispers from every corner. I sighed as they dragged me into another store.
"Last one, I promise." she smiled and I internally sobbed. They skimmed through the multiple racks as I did my usual job, sit down.
"THE HEAVENLY SPHERES BETTER NOT BE FOOLING MY EYES, OR DID I JUST SPOT THE MOST EXQUISITE DRESS I HAVE EVER LAID MY EYES ON," Scooter's strikingly loud voice erupted through the entire mall, allowing many lives to feel fear. I immediately shot up and jogged towards the three.
"THE HEAVENLY SPHERES HAVE YET TO LIE AT US, BROTHER, I SEE EXACTLY WHAT YOU SEE," and Melanie has lost it too, at least Trisha's normal.
I wondered what kind of dress caused the two to turn ballistic.
"Jeez, Copernicus, keep it down." I exclaimed once I walked up to them.
"I actually prefer Avicenna, he was more accurate,"
"Scooter, shut—"
"Adriana?" my statement was cut short by a male's voice calling my name. My eyes dilated as my heels swiveled.
I shockingly stared at the dark haired boy standing right in front of me "C-charlie, hey," I forcedly smiled and titled my head.
"Funny running into you here," his lips stretched into a smile, revealing his admirable teeth.
"Not really. I mean it's a mall, you know, packed with people just walking and socializing, having a good time. Eating, cause like, there are hundreds of restaurants here because it's natural, it's a mall after all, you'd always find at least one restaurant in one," his lips pursed into a thin line, attempting to conceal his laughter. "And I should really shut up. I'm sorry for blabbing, I don't really do it often. Actually, I do, it's a stupid habit that—and I'm doing it again, aren't I?" he laughed at my embarrassed figure.
I had a multiple of nervous habits, and why I was nervous at this moment? Because of the fact that I've never seen anyone from school out in public.
"We all ramble, it's part of human nature." his vision drifted towards the trio behind me.
"Oh, um that's—"
"I'm her uncle, Bob, boy. And that's my beautiful wife, Heather. Ain't she granny-slappin good?" he imitated a horrible southern accent and placed an arm on Melanie's shoulder, both of them smiling wickedly.
"And that's our disgrace, Anna May," he gestured towards Trisha. It required every single fiber within me to restrain myself from breaking into huge fits of laughter.
"Ain't they a darn cute family?" I decided to pitch in just for the fun of it.
"The cutest," he chuckled, "Anyways, I gotta go, the others are waiting for me. Was nice meeting ya'll. I'll see you at school." he sent one last smile and walked away. The minute he exited, laughter echoed in the store, the cause being us four.
• • • • • • •
"Uh, this is my neighborhood, just stop here please," I requested of the butler to do so, and he thankfully halted.
"Girl, we'll drop you off at your door, you can't carry all of this on your own. George, drive." she instructed the butler to do as she said, but I quickly jumped in.
"No, really, it's fine." I insisted. We were nowhere close to my neighborhood.
"Just let us drop you off,"
"Bob here, looks knocked out, the faster he's home the better. So you guys should go," she sighed, "Thank you for torturing my limbs, looking forward for the next time." they chuckled, excluding Scooter, who seemed to be in the course of giving birth.
"Make sure to wear all of the shit we got got you, or else," she playfully nudged me. "Oh, and by the way, the lessons will be held at some ancient lady's house, starting tomorrow. Meet me at the salon and we'll be on our way from there." I nodded and waved them goodbye. The butler placed all the plastic bags on the floor and continued his way. On the hard, concrete ground, were more than ten bags laying, waiting for me to lift them up.
"Well, I guess now the world can rest assured I'll never be naked," I managed to place every bag in some part of my body, and waited as I usually did, at the bus stop. A woman with a phone clung to her ear, passed by. As soon as she spotted me, her eyes expanded greatly and stared at my plastic covered figure.
"Rosie, it's her, it's Ryder Morgan's girlfriend, she's literally right here!" she whisper-yelled at her device, as I fixed my hoodie, avoiding her gaze.
The engine of the bus roared, alarming me that it was present. A man exiting dropped a magazine, with an image of Ryder's cold face plastered on the cover. My eyes spotted a caption printed right below it.
'Ruthless and callous Mr. Morgan needs a burning fire to melt his ice-cold self.'
Fire, is indeed, needed.
• • • • • • •
Hola Senoritas and Senors!
Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I personally am not happy with it but fuck it.
I just wanted to say, remember Jack Donovan? Yeah, well I changed his name to JOHN Donovan. Just Incase you guys get confused later on in the story.
Anywho, vote, comment & share (:
Until next time,
Danah