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"Well, well, well. If this isn't Monica Gillian my very own child." Monica rolled her eyes, quickening up her pace so she could join in the family breakfast. Her bobbed hair bounced with every step she took, occasionally coming in front of her face.
She'd been late for breakfast every single time for the past weeks and it was beginning to bother her father.
"Good morning father, good morning mother." She bent to kiss her mother's cheek before sitting next to her on the dinning.
Mr. Gillian rubbed the skin between his eyes before asking everyone to start eating.
The father and daughter had an uncanny resemblance in attitude although the girl had taken after her mother in looks.
Breakfast was very quiet, save for the occasional sounds of glass and ceramics making contact.
"You are so much haste this morning, is anything wrong?" Her mother asked when she had wolfed down her toasts in an unladylike manner.
"Nothing is wrong mother. The clocks ticking and unlike you, I don't have the whole day to myself." Not taking offense in her daughter's words, Mrs Gillian laughed it off shaking her head.
In a few seconds the only female heir to the Gillian's home was done with her breakfast. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and kissed her mother's cheek once again before rising to her feet completely.
"I would be moving out in a few days father, Mother." She said turning her hair towards each person she called. While her mother stopped in her tracks Mr. Gillian continued to chew down on his food.
"I take it as a go ahead from you father. Mother I'd do just fine, worry about something else.. probably your nails when they start chipping or your hair when they need re-braiding, I'd be fine." She gave a grin and patted her mother's shoulder.
"I'm off to work." She called out and she walked towards the door leading outside.
Once she was outside she rummaged her bag for the keys to her car. She owned a convertible, a black one to be precise. It was her precious car, a gift from herself to herself on her twentieth birthday.
She unlocked the car and got in, her bag first. Fixing her hair which the wind had blown out of place she connected her phone to her car to play herself soothing music.
This was a very normal morning for the one and only Monica Gillian, daughter to the French man who had flooded Los Angeles with his restaurants and take outs and drive throughs as well.
Apart from her job that kept her occupied, Monica lived a pretty lonely life. Hadn't had a boyfriend since her college days, didn't hang around with women her age who spent most of their lives drinking and clubbing away.
Monica was a good lover as well, another reason she didn't hang out with people. She wasn't interested in adding 'glutton' as a tag to her name, a name which she'd singlehandedly placed in the spotlight.
But because she didn't fuck around occasionally or drink didn't mean she didn't associate with men. Actually she had access to high ranking men, young and old with whom she had her notorious relationship with benefits.
The Gillian's lived in the Suburbs in Los Angeles and it took her almost an hour ride on a seventy kilometers per hour speed to get to her office everyday. One of the major reasons she'd rushed her breakfast.
She had two pitstops every morning. A coffee shop a few blocks from her office and then the pastry shop all owned by her humble self.
Well, Monica was anything but humble, but she wasn't exactly ride either. She got her coffee and pastries and continued to her office where her day would officially kick off.
At a French place, the staffs observed too many protocols. Down from taking off her coat and coffee for her to making sure everything she needed that morning was ready.
One fact about the Gillian heiress was she never let any soul take her bag of pastries, like it was earlier noted she was a sucker for food.
Barely five minutes she was settled down and head deep in her work.
A knock interrupted her work.
"Come in." She said in an Italian accent. The door opened gently to reveal her assistant.
"What?" She leaned into her office chair as the woman walked walked in with the files.
"Good day madam. These are the results of the ideas you asked me to develop on." She dropped the file.
"Have a seat." She gestured. She opened the files binder and went through them.
Almost a week ago she came up with random ideas she felt would push her company towards and asked her assistant to give reasons why each if them would work, their benefits and disadvantages and why each of them would also not work.
"Did you make a separate list of the points in our favor?" She asked the American woman.
"Qui." Monica nodded and let the woman know she was free to leave.
"Do I have any meetings today?" She asked stopping the woman halfway.
"Just one, with the commissioner of food tonight. I've made the necessary arrangements and would be accompanying you if you want." Monica nods her head.
"You would be accompanying me Martha, it is your job. Besides the make-up you have on doesn't fit either your face or your personality, do something about it before we leave for my meeting." Bowing her head in shame she left the office.
Monica had a bad mouth, chuckling to herself on how the woman looks she resumed what she had left off leaving the file to be examined on her way to her meeting that evening.
The woman on the other hand dashed for the restroom to look at her face in the mirror, she wasn't sure if it was just Miss Monica teasing her or she actually didn't look as good as she'd thought.
