Prologue: I'll Put It In Layman's Terms

“Money isn't everything...but it ranks right up there with oxygen.” —  Rita Davenport

“’I said, “Hey, L.A., it’s really, really nice to meet you. If it’s okay, I think I’ll stay. ‘Cause I just wanna have some fun’.” I belt out loud to the sound of Ryan Beatty’s beautiful voice coming from my radio speakers, as I punch the security code into the keypad.

I wave hello to Marvin, the security guy who makes sure that no one who doesn’t belong on our property gets through the gates. His name isn’t actually Marvin, but his first name is too complicated and complex for me to remember, so I’ve always called him Marvin. Ever since my daddy first employed him here about seven and a half years ago. 

The big, black iron wrought gate slowly opens, and I push down on the accelerator, speeding through the gap, as soon as it’s large enough to fit my precious BMW thorough. I wind around the corner that leads up to my actual house, and park in the circular driveway behind my brother’s blood red Aston Martin. Why he got to get an Aston Martin and I a BMW, I will never know. I guess it could be because in a matter of two months he’ll be graduating from our school as the salutatorian. Early graduation present, I guess. They’ve only told him so that he can write the perfect speech. But I like to tease him about it and remind him that he’s not the best, he’s the second best.

Removing my new patterned Ray Ban Wayfarers, I run my fingers through my hair, and push the button making the roof of my car raise back up. I get out of my car, dragging along my backpack and closing the door carefully behind me. I drop my keys down into the deep pocket of my school-issued blazer and walk up to the front door. Since our house is constantly monitored - outside and some places inside - we leave our front door unlocked all the time. And plus, no one gets through the gates if Marvin has been instructed to let them in. Unless it’s me, my brother or my parents obviously.

As I push down on the door knob to walk in - yes, we have a weird door knob - to in, the door swings open from the opposite side and a large gruff man holding a box full of stuff walks out past me, causing me to wrinkle my forehead in confusion. I follow him with my eyes and see him walk across the grass - which is really rude, considering the fact that that’s brand new turf he’s walking on. And turf isn’t very cheap, you know. He tosses the box into the back of a truck and then heads back into my house, like I’m not even standing here. I walk around so that I can get a better view of the truck mystery guy just threw a box into.

On the side it reads in big, white block letters; Garcia’s Auction House. What? Now I’m confused. I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I’m pretty sure that an auction is when you sell your stuff, isn’t it? Another man walks out, pushing a red dolly in front of him. On that dolly? My periwinkle vanity that should be in my bedroom.

“Excuse me, where are you going with that?” I demand, putting my hands on my hips.

The man shrugs, continuing his walk to the large truck. “Mr. Vandergeld just told me to get it.”

Why would my dad tell him to ‘just get it’?I turn on my heel, and walk back to the front door, going in. I stop in my tracks and my eyes widen as I look around the nearly empty living room. All that remains is the long, white sectional couch and the arm chair. Everything else is gone. The insanely expensive paintings that hung on the walls just this morning are gone, the flat screen TV which was I watched reruns of Boy Meets World on just hours ago before leaving for school is nowhere in sight. Something is definitely not right, and I need to find out what it is.

“Daddy?!” I shout through the house, tossing my backpack at the couch. I walk out of the living room, en route for my dad’s office. That’s where he spends a large percentage, in his office, I mean.

“In the dining room, Steffy.” He calls back.

I change my direction, and walk back down the stairs, reverting towards the dining room. I walk in, my arms crossed over my shoulder and find my dad sitting at the large square glass table where we eat our meals. My mother is also at the table. Her face is grim, as if she’s just learned something she didn’t want to know. 

“Why are there guys taking stuff out of the house and putting it in a truck? Especially my vanity.”

“Steffy, we have some news we need to share with you.” My mom says, sighing.

“Obviously.” I murmur under my breath, sitting down at the table across from them.

“What is this about a family meeting?” Spencer - my brother - demands as he walks into the kitchen.

“It’s just that,” My dad tells him. “Sit down, son; we have something to tell you and your sister.”

Spencer sighs, but obeys our father’s request and sits down next to me. “What’s up?”

Though Spencer is really, really smart, he’s also very popular in school. And I just don’t think that that’s a fair combination. I mean, sure I’m popular, but I’m not that smart, and I admit that. My grade point average is like 2.5. Barely a ‘C’ average.

“There’s been an incident.” My dad begins.

“Meaning what exactly?” I wonder.

“Vandergeld Industries has been taken over.”

“What do you mean by ‘taken over’?” Spencer asks.

Vandergeld Industries is the name of my father’s company. It’s a major design and engineering company or something along the lines of that. It’s also a world-wide conglomerate, meaning - well, I’m not exactly sure what it means, but the other night I Googled my dad’s company and that’s what they labeled it as.

“You guys know that Camden Corporations is the company’s biggest rival, and crazy old Jimmy finally won. He bought up half of the company stock and he’s taken control over the company.”

“B-but it’s your company. How can he do that?” I wonder.

“He just can, sweetheart. The amount of the stock that he bought made him a major stockholder, and now he’s taken over.”

“Well, can’t you just buy it back?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” He tells me, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m still confused; why are there people taking our stuff away?”

“We’re moving.” My mom tells me.

“What? Why?” Spencer wonders, suddenly engaged in the conversation.

Sighing, my dad rubs his hands over his eyes tiredly. “I’ll put it in layman terms for you two; we’re broke.”

“Broke?” Spencer and I echo at the same time.

“Broke.” He confirms nodding.

“What do you mean broke?”

“We don’t have any money. It’s all gone; it’s Jimmy’s now.”

“But you’ve got some money saved up, don’t you?” Spencer asks.

“I had some money saved up. But technically it’s a subsidiary of the company. So I don’t have anything now.”

I stare at him for a second before bursting out laughing, “Oh that’s a good one dad. You should go down to Hollywood; you can totally be the next Brad Pitt. Without all the kids though. You really had me going with the whole, ‘we’re broke’, thing.” I say, giggling uncontrollably. “You’re so funny.”

“Stef, I don’t think he’s joking.” My brother says, elbowing me.

“Of course he is, Spence. We can’t be broke. Right dad?” I ask, looking over at him.

“I wish it wasn’t true, but it is.”

I blink a few times and then say, “So there’s no money?”

“Well, there’s about three thousand left in the bank account; that’s it.”

“And our trust funds?” I wonder. My parents have never told me exactly what my or Spencer’s trust fund consists of, but I know it’s got at least two commas in there.

“They’re frozen and inaccessible until I can pay the bank.”

“No one has answered the question yet. Why are dudes moving everything?”

“We have to sell it, Steffy dear.” My mom tells me in a polite, but strained voice.

“Sell everything?”

“Everything.” She confirms, nodding. “And that still won’t be enough to pay back the bank.”

“Whoa, I know the real question that needs to be answered.” Spencer says, raising his hands.

“What is it?”

“Are we still taking the trip to the Bahamas this summer?”

“No, we don’t even have the yacht anymore. We sold it a few hours ago.”

“What? No Bahamas? What else can go wrong?” I mutter.

As if on cue, outside I hear a huge slamming and then the sound of something backing up. Like the garbage trucks and school buses have that beeping noise that goes on when they’re in reverse, that’s what it sounds like. But I don’t see any reason for there to be a school bus or a garbage truck in our yard.

“What was that?”

“The car repossession guy.”

“Whose car is getting repossessed?” I demand, silently begging it’s not mine. Please don’t let it be mine. Please let it be Spencer’s. Or mom’s. Or dad’s.

“Yours.”

“Mine?!” I whine, jumping up from the seat, and running to the front door, throwing it open just in time to see my car riding away on the back of a huge white tow-truck. “No! Stop! Come back!” I cry, my heart aching. My car is my heart and soul, like really, and it’s gone now. Despite my yelling, the tow truck doesn’t stop. And it doesn’t come back. I sluggishly walk back to the dining room, sitting down in the chair and fold my arms. “Some warning would have been nice.”

“Sorry sweetie.” My mom says, offering me a small smile which I don’t return.

“Do I get to keep my car?” Spencer wonders hopefully.

“You do.”

“Wha-“

My dad raises his hand in a gesture, telling me to calm down and says, “Spencer’s car was already paid for in full. Yours was month to month.”

“That’s bullsh-“

“Watch your language, young lady.” My mother scowls me.

“Okay, never mind the cars. You said we’re moving. Why?”

“The house is worth about five million dollars. We’ve gotta sell it.” Dad explains.

“So where are we gonna live if we sell the house?” I ask.

“Will we still live in California?” Spencer asks.

“No.”

“Then where?”

“Well, I talked to your Grandmother over the phone this morning.” My mom tells us.

“Yeah and…?”

Why she randomly decided to share that with us, I don’t know. I haven’t seen my Grandmother Nancy in about five, maybe seven years. For the simple fact that she lives all the way in Tennessee on a farm and I just prefer my beautiful L.A. over her stinky Lewisburg or whatever city she resides in. Not that anything is wrong with Tennessee, it has very…scenic landscape, I guess.

“And she’s agreed to let us live with her until we can get back on our feet.”

“You don’t mean…” Spencer says, letting his voice trail off.

“She can’t mean that.” I reply, more for reassurance for me than him. “Right?”

“Wrong. She does mean that.” My mom corrects us both, referring to herself in the third person. “We’re all moving to Tennessee and we’re going to live with your grandmother.”

Author's Note: It's only short because it's a prologue! The other chapters won't be as short! I hope you liked it. Lemme know in a comment, maybe? I'll update every Friday and Tuesday. (: Oh and because this was the teaser I uploaded to my second account, @gratify, and most of you have probably read it, I'm gonna be really nice and go ahead and post Chapter 1 after this, since most of you've read this. Dedicated to @Nardia_85, because she made a cover. (: