Page 18 of I Love You, I Hate You
@Lukethebarnyardcat
Damn. That sounds really difficult to manage. I’m sorry
@Noraephronwasagenius
Thanks. It’s one of those things I don’t like telling people, because just about everyone I know grew up rich or middle class, and I just can’t handle the pitying looks they give me.
@Lukethebarnyardcat
And why can you tell me? I’m really glad you can, I’m just wondering
@Noraephronwasagenius
Partially because I can’t SEE you giving me those sad little looks.
And partially because even though you’re basically a Rockefeller, I feel like you understand.
@Lukethebarnyardcat
Hey now, we are nowhere near Rockefeller levels of family money
We are Hearst family level at BEST
@Noraephronwasagenius
do you even hear yourself oh my god.
Chapter Seven
A warm summer breeze played with wisps of her hair. To her left a group of college kids tossed a frisbee back and forth, and to her right a young couple was having a picnic. Victoria turned the page on her e-reader and settled back against the tree. A few families ambled past towards the Stone Arch Bridge and the Mississippi River flowed sluggishly just below the park. She rarely gave herself days like this, where she put all thoughts of work aside and allowed herself to get lost in a romance novel, pretending she didn’t have bills to pay and clothes to alter, not to mention a case to figure out how to win.
It was nice to sit outside in the dappled sunlight without any particular agenda. It was solitary, true, and her mother would probably scold her for not seeking out any other humans for companionship, but Victoria liked being alone. Or at least she didn’t mind it. But then she felt, rather than saw, a presence over her shoulder, and turned.
A young girl with blonde pigtails was looking at her intently. Victoria wasn’t good at placing children’s ages, but this one was at least old enough to be out of diapers and maybe not quite old enough to be in school full-time. Small children unsettled her, quite frankly, mostly because she never knew how to act around them. “Your pants have holes in them,” the little girl said solemnly.
Victoria glanced at her jeans, artfully distressed in the knees and thighs. “I know.”
“Did you wear them on purpose?”
Victoria closed her e-reader to look at the girl more fully. She scanned the area but didn’t see anyone looking for her, and hoped that whomever this child belonged to would come along sooner rather than later. “I did. In fact, I put the holes in them myself.”
Her light blue eyes got big, and there was something vaguely familiar about the little girl. “Your mom let you do that?”
She smothered a smile and nodded. “She taught me how.” Rich people would pay a lot of money to look poor, but Victoria had long ago figured it was cheaper to just buy an inexpensive pair of jeans and rip them herself.
The girl’s eyes went even wider in awe, and in the distance
Victoria heard someone yell the nameOlivia. “Are you Olivia?” Victoria asked, searching the park for the source of the voice.
“How did you know my name?”
“Olivia!” someone yelled again, closer now, and Victoria craned her neck to see. “Because someone is looking for you,” she explained.
“That’s just my brother,” Olivia said with a shrug, and plopped down in the grass next to Victoria. “What are you reading?”
Victoria furrowed her brow because the voice calling for Olivia was far too adult-sounding to be a sibling. “If they’re looking for you we should find them,” she said, hoping that if she said it confidently enough the girl would listen. She stood up, dusting herself off, and startled.
Because striding straight towards her, red-gold hair pulled back in an obnoxious ponytail, was Owen. Her stomach did a flip-flop before she even realized it was happening. There was something about him, between his laid-back attitude and unconventional but undeniably attractive looks, that got to her. He drew up short, another small blonde girl balanced on his hip. “Victoria?”