Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless

by Noire

  “Your father got money to fuckin’ burn. You probably got a trust fund bigger than some banks. Get the fuck up and let’s go. I need you to front me some cash for a re-up,” he demanded. Then he threw a small pack of meth at me.

  I was up after that. I grabbed the bundle and padded into the bathroom to get off. When I stepped up to the hotel sink, I noticed how fucked up I looked. My hair was in desperate need of a wash and set, which I used to get every other day but hadn’t had in over a month now. I looked down at my nails; they were chipped and the nail polish was a mess. This was all uncharacteristic of my usual. “Ugh, I look like a fuckin’ mess. Pull yourself together and stop this shit, Megan,” I said to myself.

  When Eric and I pulled up at the bank, I had to cover my eyes with a pair of out of season Gucci shades. Damn, that wasn’t like me either. I usually stayed on top of my fashion game and would have the very latest of everything. I walked into the bank and went to the familiar teller, the one I had used before to take out large sums of money. The woman smiled at me like she’d known me my entire life. I just nodded and smirked. I knew she was being phony because she and I both knew I was looking terrible compared to the last time she saw me.

  I filled out the withdrawal slip and gave her my identification, although I know she knew who I was. She looked down at the amount, twenty thousand, and she didn’t even flinch. She just kept that phony ass smile plastered to her heavily made-up face. I guess she was used to me by now. The woman began pecking on the computer keyboard as I tapped my foot waiting.

  I wanted to get high again and I planned on taking some of the money for myself before I handed most of it over to Eric. I was kind of tired of Eric piecing my shit out to me like he pleased. He said he did that to keep me from getting addicted, but I think it was too late for that now.

  The teller looked up at me with a serious, even ominous look on her face.

  “Um ... Ms. Rich, are you sure this is the account you want to use?” the woman asked nervously. Her smile had faded.

  I pulled my shades down a little bit on my nose and looked at her over the top of them. “What? Isn’t that the account I always use?” I asked impatiently.

  “Yes, ma’am, but this account has been frozen. I am unable to process your transaction at this time,” the woman said.

  My face must’ve told her what I was thinking. She didn’t give me a chance to open my mouth before she began to explain. “It has a note here saying the main account holder, a Mr. Gavin Rich, has frozen the assets in this account and will come into the bank to liquidate the account and close it. No funds are to be released from this account. I cannot even give you an account balance. I am afraid you have been shut out of this account, Ms. Rich.... I am very sorry,” the woman rambled.

  My body was hot all over with anger. My heart raced inside my chest and my stomach churned. I wanted to just melt away, but I had no choice but to stand my ground. “Is there another account I can use? I mean, what am I supposed to do for cash?” I asked, my voice cracking. The woman was looking at me sympathetically, which just made me even angrier. I wasn’t a goddamn charity case like she was making me out to be.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. All of Mr. Rich’s other accounts are single owner or joint with another party. There are no other accounts that contain your name. You are not authorized to receive funds from any other account. I am so sorry, Ms. Rich,” the woman said apologetically. I believed that she sincerely felt sorry for me.

  “That’s fuckin’ impossible! My father wouldn’t cut me off like that!” I screamed, hurt evident behind my words. Everybody in the bank turned to look at me. The woman began blinking rapidly. She was clearly nervous as hell.

  “Get your fuckin’ manager now!” I barked at the woman. I knew that the answer wasn’t going to be any different from the manager, but I didn’t know what else to do to quell the ache of embarrassment and hurt I was feeling.

  The manager, a tall Hispanic man, came rushing over to me. “Ms. Rich, maybe we can go to the back and speak,” he said calmly, with his hands up in a sign of surrender.

  “I don’t wanna go in the fucking back! I want to get my money out of the bank right now!” I screamed. I didn’t even realize I was stomping my feet for emphasis.

  The man was clearly trying to remain calm and to calm me down as well. “I’m afraid that your joint account holder has requested to take you off the account, ma’am. This is out of our control now. You will have to speak with him or her,” the manager said curtly. Now he was growing irritated with me because we had drawn the attention of a crowd.

  “Fuck you! Don’t tell me who I need to speak to, you bastard! I will have you know that I am rich! My family has done business with this bank for years. I will have your job by tomorrow so you might as well quit right now! We won’t be doing business with this piece of shit bank again!” I screamed as I stalked toward the door. The heat of what seemed to be a million gazes was burning a hole in every part of my body.

  My words were a bunch of empty threats and I knew it. I knew the manager and the teller were only doing their jobs, but I couldn’t control the sheer anger that had grown into a palpable ball inside me. I stomped toward my car and I could feel Eric’s hard glare following me around the car through the windshield. The fallout from coming out of the bank empty handed was one I wasn’t up for. Whenever I couldn’t get Eric what he wanted, it was never a good outcome.

  “What the fuck happened?” Eric asked before I could fully put my ass into the passenger seat of my car.

  I just busted out crying as I slammed the door. I thought maybe my tears would soften the blow of what I was about to tell him. I thought maybe, just maybe, he would feel the least bit of sympathy for me.

  “My fucking father froze my account! They wouldn’t even let me get a dollar out of it! They said he took my name off, froze the money, and plans on liquidating it and closing it all together!” I relayed through tears. I covered my face with my hands.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Megan?” Eric screamed, totally unsympathetic. I moved my hands from my eyes and looked over at him like he was crazy. No apology, no sympathy or empathy from Eric, just pure selfishness coming from his ass. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel and startled me.

  I jumped and looked over at him. “Eric! Did you hear what I said? My father cut off my money! I don’t fucking know what you’re supposed to do!” I barked at him. My head was spinning. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my father and beg for mercy. I wanted to say sorry, but I knew that wouldn’t work at this point. I was feeling a nauseating rush of mixed emotions.

  Eric started rubbing his chin like he was in deep thought. “What about your credit cards? Can you get a cash advance off those?” Eric asked frantically, like he had come up with the next great idea or invention.

  I was shaking my head from left to right. I couldn’t believe him. “I can try,” I mumbled, defeated.

  Eric wasn’t going to let this slide. He would hound me until he got what he wanted. “How much can you get from each card?” he asked.

  My shoulders slumped in defeat and I just threw my hands up “I don’t know.... I’ve never had to take a cash advance from a credit card,” I said honestly. I had never been in this position before. No cash on hand and no access to any. It was a new low for me.

  Eric whipped the car from in front of the bank. “Call your credit cards and find out—now,” he demanded.

  I called the customer service lines for all ten of the credit cards I had in my wallet and once again I was defeated. My father had closed every single credit card account that I had. I don’t think anything except a dagger to the heart could’ve hurt more than finding out that my father had actually cut me off. I didn’t think it could get any worse.

  “Eric, I need to go home. I need to see my father and talk to him in person. I have to do it alone,” I cried. I dropped Eric off back in his hood and drove straight home. I needed for my father to tell me in person that he
had definitely cut me off for good.

  I raced into the house and straight to my father’s office. I was frantic. He wasn’t there. I went to the main living room and that is where I found him and my mother. They were sitting together sipping champagne as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Neither of them looked like they had a problem with cutting me off, nor did they appear as if they were waiting for me. I knew I looked bad so I stopped walking fast when I noticed them and I used my hands to try and smooth back my hair and make sure my face was clean. I licked my ashy lips and continued to try and spruce myself up as I walked into the living room slowly. I was trying to will myself to remain calm. I kept telling myself that there was probably a perfectly good explanation for what had been done. Maybe my father had changed banks and just hadn’t had the chance to tell me. Maybe he had opened a bigger and even better bank account for his baby girl and was dying to give me access. I forced these thoughts into my head to keep from going crazy on their asses. I didn’t want to believe that he had just left me out there for dead with no money.

  My father was the one who noticed me first. He stood up and placed his champagne glass on the small table that sat between my mother and him. He had a halfhearted smile on his face and he quickly shoved his hands down into his pockets. That was not his typical greeting for me. There would be none of his usual open-armed embraces.

  “Megan. What a nice surprise. Are you all right?” my father asked in a nice, calm voice like it was a regular day and we were seeing each other under regular circumstances. “You want to join us for snacks?” he asked, turning his body slightly to show me the table that had the champagne, orange juice, and homemade tea biscuits and pastries on it.

  His smug tone made a flash of heat come over me. I couldn’t understand why his ass was acting as if he had not done anything. My eyes were squinted into little dashes and I used the back of my hand to wipe my running nose ... another downside to that meth shit. I walked toward my father and finally I opened my mouth. “No! I’m not all right! I didn’t come here to eat your fucking pastries either! What did you do, Daddy? I can’t get any money at the bank! I have nothing! What did you do?” I screeched, and I immediately lost control. There went the tears and wracking sobs. I was devastated by what I figured as his ultimate betrayal.

  “I did what I told you I would do a year ago if you did not straighten up your life. I cannot condone your behavior as of late and I certainly cannot afford it,” he chastised.

  My mother stood up and wrapped her arms around the front of her. She started hugging herself as if she was very cold. She seemed as if this was hurting her when I knew fucking better. It was all a concerned mother act coming from her.

  “So how am I supposed to live, Daddy? How am I supposed to take care of myself? Just like that you leave me with nothing.... I can’t even buy a cup of coffee,” I screamed through tears. Snot and tears covered my face now. I had taken off my shades to reveal eyes that were rimmed with bags.

  “Megan, over the past year you should have thought about all of that. You had more than enough money and chances to buy coffee. Look at you ... You are a mess. I have talked to Dr. Klusky and he gave me some literature about drug abuse. I can see the signs, Megan. Your mother and I think that you need to go to rehab. If you want to get help, I will pay for it and if you complete it we can try to start over. I will be here for you if you agree to get the help that you need. If you refuse the help, not only will you remain financially cut off, you will have to leave this house and the guesthouse. You will not be allowed onto this estate. You need to make a decision now. I will not give you any more time to think about this,” my father said harshly.

  I doubled over and dropped down to my knees. I could not fucking believe my ears. I was overwhelmed with wracking sobs. I was devastated, to say the least. “I don’t need rehab! You and your fucking quack doctor don’t know what you’re talking about,” I screamed angrily.

  “Megan, you will stop using that language in this house. You know your choices,” my father said, flopping back down in his chair. He looked like this was just as painful for him as it was for me.

  I noticed his face softening and took that as my chance to appeal to his softer side. “Please don’t do this, Daddy! I don’t need help. I swear I am not using drugs. I drink every now and then, but I swear to you, I am fine. I promise. Daddy, please don’t do this to me. I will go back to school. I will work for you. I will do anything it takes to make this better,” I pleaded through sobs.

  “Megan, you are pathetic. Your father has given you our stipulations and they are final,” my mother said dryly, finally speaking up.

  I looked at her with hate-filled eyes. “I hate you! You were always jealous of me! I know this is all your doing!” I screamed at her.

  “I will not have you speak to your mother that way. You will need to leave. Martha and the help have packed up your things and I will have them delivered to whatever address you’d like. You can keep your car ... it is still yours,” my father said cruelly. Every time he said anything I felt another pang of hurt. I was screaming and crying. I was a mess.

  “I can’t watch this anymore. I am going upstairs,” my mother said.

  “Megan, are you going to take my offer of rehabilitation or will you choose to leave this house?” he asked.

  “I don’t need rehabilitation! I don’t need you either! I don’t need any of you! I will show you! I can make it out there on my own! You made me into this monster and now you just toss me away like a piece of trash! I hate both of you!” I wailed. I pulled myself up off the floor and stood toe to toe with my father.

  “I hope you are satisfied with what you have done to me. This was all your fault,” I said indignantly. My father just looked at me pitifully. I turned around and stormed through the house. When I made it to the foyer I noticed my mother’s pocketbook. I grabbed it and hurried out of the house. It was the last time I’d be home in a long, long time.

  4

  My Dose of Harsh Reality

  To say that I was devastated by my father’s actions would be an understatement. I couldn’t find the words to describe my feelings as I left the house I had grown up in for the last time. I had been turned out onto the streets by the very people who were supposed to protect me from the world. I was feeling dejected and revengeful. I wanted to hurt my parents as much as they had hurt me. As I stormed out of the house, I didn’t leave before I got my hands on my mother’s purse, which had about a thousand dollars in cash in it and her American Express card. I was so angry that day that taking my mother’s shit was my way of having the last laugh.

  What I did afterward was get with Eric and we used my mother’s card to shop and buy things he could resell for cash. We were able to net about five thousand dollars worth of stuff before we walked into Saks Fifth Avenue. But we had to hightail it the fuck out of there because my mother had reported her credit card stolen by the time we had gotten to Saks. Eric was the one who had enough street smarts to notice how the counter girl was trying to stall us there while her manager got the police on the line. Eric had been looking around at all of the stares coming from some of the store associates. He told me later that he knew right away that they were calling the cops and just trying to keep us there. I remember Eric leaning into me and saying, “We need to get the fuck out of here right now.” I was so high and so naive to stuff like that, that I had laughed it off. Eric grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me out of the store.

  “Wait, I have to get my card back!” I had shouted. I was so stupid and it wasn’t even my damn card.

  “Shut the fuck up and run!” Eric belted out, and he took off. I followed suit and it was a good thing I did. We had gotten out of the mall parking lot just in the nick of time. I was in tears when Eric explained to me what had really happened. My parents were actually playing hardball for real. They had completely shut me out and cut me off. The fact that the store clerks were going to call the police on me could only mean th
at my mother had found out I took her money and her card and she had reported me.

  With no money and no credit cards, I was forced to move in with Eric. Talk about culture shock. I was used to living in Crystal Lake Estates, where there were estates with gates and circular driveways. Eric lived in South Norfolk, basically the hood. He lived in an apartment complex that had doors so close to one another it reminded me of a seedy motel that I had seen on television. I had never even been to an apartment complex. Growing up, all of our family friends and all of my high school friends lived on estates. When Eric opened up his apartment door and I stepped inside, naturally my facial expression told it all.

  “It ain’t the palace you used to living in, hmm?” Eric said with an attitude, and he left me standing in the middle of the floor.

  I didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but looking around I knew it would take me some getting used to. Eric’s spot was very small, but I must admit it was neat and clean. It was still not what I was used to. I could see every room in Eric’s apartment if I stood in the middle of his living room. His couch was a worn leather piece that looked like someone had sliced it with a razor in some spots, and the recliner was a mismatch plaid material piece that looked like it had been gutted, with cotton spilling out of it in the middle. The coffee table looked like a throwback from the seventies and like it had been used as a butcher’s block with so many nicks and scratches on it. I had never thought people lived like that in real life. I had only ever seen stuff like that in some of the movies or TV shows I watched.

  Eric and I had frequented so many upscale hotels and I had lived in the lap of luxury so long that I never really thought about how he lived every day. Looking around at his raggedy furniture and shabby living conditions kind of confused me too. I was just wondering how someone like Eric, who always donned the best of everything, lived there. Eric wore the best clothes, either from hustling or that he got from me. He wore Rolex watches and thousands of dollars worth of jewelry, so I could not understand why he lived in a place like this. His bedroom looked even worse than any other place in the house. His bed was simply a mattress on the floor. No box spring, no bed frame, no bed skirt, no bunch of luxurious pillows, and certainly no regal headboard like I was accustomed to.