When Star is offered a summer job as her father's assistant, she's a little hesitant to accept it at first. And it's not because she would be missing out on beach parties and shopping sprees her best friend, Margo had so elaborately planned that sum...
There is nothing more refreshing than walking into a place with your Balmain paneled stretch-crepe mini dress and the latest edition Christian Louboutin 'Seava' disco ball glitter sneakers, on a crisp summer morning.
The door to the finest restaurant at the Beach Front country club was swiftly opened when I approached. The warm atmosphere that greeted me held a stark, but welcoming contrast to the cool air outside. Taking notice of my surroundings, I saw that only a few people filled the seats in the large dining area, which was expected due to the time of day, but there was sure to be a crowd before the lunch hour commenced.
An attendant caught sight of me, and immediately rushed over to my side, leading me in the direction of my usual table. And as we sashayed through the linen-clothed tables, I noticed that most of the crowd consisted of men in suits, likely business men who came to negotiate contracts and deals over an early brunch.
The prestigious Ashore Restaurant was known for such meetings, in fact they were highly regarded as a hot bed for them. But it was a rare occurrence, if ever, that a teenage girl would be sitting alone at an exclusive part of the restaurant, her gaze completely fixed on the phone in her hands as she tapped away at it hurriedly. However, when said 'teenage girl' was the Club president's daughter, certain... exceptions were allowed.
Settling into the seat that was pulled out of me, I placed my handbag at the foot of the chair, a little annoyed that Margo hadn't acknowledged my presence. Her unruly hair was held in a top knot with only some damp curls sticking to the side of her face, a resultant, I presumed, was from sweating during her morning jog.
The lacey fringe edges of her La Perla bra, peaked out of the low, circular neckline of the sport's top she was wearing, and I now realized that it wasn't just a coincidence that most of the men were crowded at this section of the restaurant.
My eyes narrowed on her fingers at the point where they held her phone at the back. I gasped, taken aback by what I saw. "Are those faux fur nails?" I asked her disbelievingly.
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Margo looked up blankly, her freshly waxed brows knitting together in a small frown, like she was surprised that I was in front of her. It was so typical of her though, because whenever she was with her phone, nothing or no one else in the world mattered.
Her expression changed however, when she seemingly remembered my question. "Oh, yeah. Gloria did them for me."
Gloria was the personal stylist to Margo's step-mom. With her slim physique and her slightly upturned nose, she looked more like a classier version of Nanny McPhee, but somehow with her strange countenance and weird appearances, she was the best in the business, and someone like her step-mum, a budding socialite, needed all the help she could get.
Fascinated, I grabbed one of her hands, staring at the furry fingernails. "They're so amazing. I saw them all over the New York Fashion Week." I commented.
