As the eldest daughter of the Sinclair family, Orion had it all. Prestige, connections, beauty, tutors. She had discourse with the world leaders of influence and pomp. She had dined on the finest foods at the finest tables in the finest restaurants. She travelled the globe in glory and stardom, her name on the tongues of hundreds of thousands. A sensation. A Goddess.
The word had truly been her Oyster Rockefeller.
Funny, she mused, stirring the milk in her Café Bombón with a disinterest that bordered on full-blown shunning, It would still be mine, if… She shook the thought away, unwilling to finish.
If… she had just been a teensy bit less of a downright, A-class, coal-in-stockings bitch.
The silver croissant hooked on her belt chimed. <<Your appointment is scheduled to arrive in three minutes, forty-four seconds, sir!>>
Orion paused stirring. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
<<Oh, um, ‘you idiot’, sir!>>
“Better.” She huffed. “Remember it next time, or I’ll remind you with some deserved punishment!”
<<Yes, sir! Um, ‘you bastard’! Anything but that!>> Replied the voice, with more pep than one might expect.
Orion drummed her fingers on the table. She stared out at the small square of grass across the road from her. It was a quaint little park in the centre of the ACDC suburb, a place to relax and play. Playground equipment took up an entire corner, with slides and swings and climbing frames galore. It was a place for kids to have fun and for adults to take a break.
And it was a place for redemption.
Her plans would come to fruition in mere hours. But first, there was the matter of her contact...
<<One minute, sir! You ugly git!>>
Orion sipped her coffee, as delicately as if she were handling a priceless emerald. “Lovely.”