With a toss of my hair and a click of my heels, I sashayed out of my penthouse, ready to conquer the world—or at least the countryside—with my signature flair.
Picture this: a Victoria Beckham Bodyline fitted skirt in pink paired perfectly with a Ralph Lauren Ekewaka Halter Neck Blouse in Cream, hugging my curves just right under a Balmain Pink Double-Breasted Blazer, and Christian Louboutin 'Pigalle Follies' Pumps in Blush Pink completing the look. The finishing touch was a touch of drama—a Philip Treacy 4OC 881 ascot hat, with a symmetrical base that sits to the side of my head, shielding my perfectly curled hair from the sun. Then, I have my Cartier Panthère de Cartier squared sunglasses. And of course, my Hermès Birkin 25 in Rose Swift.
As I confidently made my exit, a man appeared behind me, struggling slightly under the weight of not one, not two, but three bags. I ditched the other two, which made my heart break, but it needed to be done since I realized that I would not stay there for more than five days.
"Careful with those, darling," I remarked, flashing a dazzling smile over my shoulder to the man, "My whole life's in those suitcases."
The man nodded, grimacing with sweat all over his face and neck. He trudged along, towing two pastel-colored suitcases that practically screamed 'Scarlett' in their chic design, and a duffle bag packed to the brim with all the essentials—by my definition, anyway.
I confidently approached my sleek light pink Porsche 911, the epitome of sophistication, exuding an air of confidence that even Cinderella would envy. Pulling out my phone, I dialed my assistant's, slash best friend's, number as the footman scurried around, handling my luggage with the utmost care.
"Hey, Lisa, my friend, I need you to—" I started, but before I could finish, her panicked voice interrupted me.
"Scarlett, I'm so sorry, but I can't come in today," Lisa blurted out, her tone fraught with urgency.
"What? Why? What happened?" I responded, a hint of bewilderment creeping into my voice.
"I-I've got this terrible stomach thing going on," Lisa explained hurriedly. "And my niece—she's sick too. I've got to rush over and take care of her."
I sighed in exasperation, trying to mask my disappointment. Although I am important, that cute little girl was 0.1% more important than me. Yeah, I get it.
"I'm really sorry, Scarlett. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I just can't leave my niece alone like this," Lisa pleaded, her voice tinged with guilt.
I glanced at the footman loading my luggage, contemplating my options. "Fine, just take care of yourself and your niece. Then join me there as soon as you can. In the meantime, I'll figure something out."
As the call ended, I leaned against the car, tapping my foot on the ground, trying to process the sudden change of plans. Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, the footman, bless his bewildered soul, cleared his throat and dared to ask.
"Um, miss, may I ask where you're off to?"
I straightened up, "To the countryside," I replied matter-of-factly, flashing a smile that screamed 'I've got this.'
But oh, the footman's expression—pure disbelief with a touch of horror. His eyes traveled from my chic ensemble—pink skirt, hat, and all—to the waiting pink sports car, as if he couldn't fathom my choice of attire for such a destination.
He tried to hide it, bless him, but I caught that fleeting moment of judgment. His raised eyebrow and subtle head tilt screamed, 'Are you serious?'
I chuckled inwardly, nodding in acknowledgment. "I know, I know. Seems a tad overdressed for the countryside, doesn't it?"
The footman managed a weak nod, his attempt at a polite agreement. But truth be told, I could see it in his eyes—he probably thought I'd lost my mind.
"Well," I continued with a shrug, "sometimes, one must bring a touch of style to the unassuming corners of the world."
With a flick of my hat and a confident stride towards my car, I left the footman there with his doubts about me. With a rev of the engine, I set forth on my journey. The sleek pink sports car purred as I cruised the winding roads.
Soon after, the scenery gradually transformed, skyscrapers giving way to lush greenery and endless stretches of open road. The fresh air kissed my face as the wind tousled my hair. I glanced at the mirror, adjusting my hat—the grand protector of my perfectly styled locks.
"Alright, Blackwood Corporation, here comes Scarlett," I declared to no one.
After what felt like an eternity on the road—hours of panoramic scenery changing from towering buildings to lush forests and endless greenery—I finally arrived in the heart of the countryside.
The Pink Mobile cruised along, the only pop of color in a sea of green.
The streets were practically deserted, a stark contrast to the city traffic I was accustomed to. Every passing car was a rarity, and boy, were they different from my pink car. Pickups and some are old beat-up trucks.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting golden hues across the landscape, fatigue crept in. My energy dwindled, and exhaustion settled in after hours behind the wheel. I sighed, trying to shake off the weariness.
"I should've hired a driver," I murmured to myself, taking a sip of the water on my tumbler.
....
And then it happened—a few rowdy teenagers in a passing car yelled out something. I barely caught their catcalls, their crude comments drowned out by the engine's hum.
I rolled my eyes. "Typical teenagers," I muttered but mostly brushed it off.
As I continued down the road, the scenery began to shift, and before I knew it, there it was—the sign welcoming me to Hicksville town. A twinge of excitement sparked in my bones.
Just as I was about to revel in this small victory of reaching my destination, a sudden obstacle appeared—literally. Out of nowhere, a man in a rugged flannel shirt stepped right into the middle of the road.
I slammed on the brakes, my heart pounding as my car screeched to a halt, tires skidding against the pavement.
"What on earth?" I muttered, leaning forward to peer through the windshield.
The man's weathered face wore a stoic expression as he approached the car. He raised a hand in a stop gesture, his gaze inspecting me with curiosity and suspicion. Do I look like I would rob their precious town?
I am carrying my pink Birkin for Pete's sake.
"Excuse me, sir, is everything alright?" I called out, rolling down the window.
His piercing stare felt like he could see through my soul.
"Ma'am, I need you to step outside the vehicle," he firmly said, his request leaving no room for negotiation.
I hesitated for a moment, eyeing the man warily. I shook my head, choosing to remain in the safety of my car, but before I could protest, he began taking a step closer to me.
"Who are you, and what brings you to our town?" His tone was cautious as if weighing every word.
I straightened up in my seat, summoning my most confident persona.
"I'm Scarlett. I'm here to meet Gabriel Blackwood," I stated firmly, attempting to exude an air of authority, despite feeling a tad intimidated.
"And who do you represent?"
"I'm from Hawthorne Company."
The man's expression softened slightly, though skepticism still lingered in his eyes. His abrupt step back and the sight of him reaching for his phone had me on edge, but I stayed put, awaiting his next move. Anxiously tapping my finger on the steering wheel, I wondered if requesting a bodyguard was now too late.
As I waited, a few pickup trucks and ranger cars rolled past us, heading into the town. The locals' curious stares were unmistakable, their gazes fixated on the stranger in the flashy pink car – me.
Being the embodiment of sass, I simply shrugged off their glances with an air of nonchalance. I mean, who wouldn't stare at someone as fabulous as me?
The man's attention shifted from his phone to me, his demeanor still guarded. He seemed to be making a call, probably reporting my arrival to someone who heads the town or something.
"Yes, Sir. She said she's from Hawthorne…"
That was the only part of his call I could make out. Geez.
The tension in the air eased as the man finished his call and returned to my car. He nodded at me and finally spoke, "Alright, you can go now, Miss."
Relief washed over me, but before I drove off, I leaned out of the window, seizing the opportunity.
"Wait, is Gabriel Blackwood there?"
He paused for a moment, contemplating his response. "Yeah, he's around."
"Okay, thanks," I called out, flashing a quick smile, and without further delay, I hit the gas pedal.