Her father had told her when she was young that it was because he was protecting her, but the older she became, the more she realized it was really to protect himself. The more he kept her home, the more control he had over her, and the less likely she was to spill his secrets.
She’d only been allowed in the public eye with dates he’d set up, and she’d only been allowed out when he deemed it necessary. As she looked around the room, anger burned inside her over what she’d missed out on.
No wonder the girls from school had glowed after a spa weekend. It was the ultimate in opulence. Her week of indulgence had shown her she deserved to have a few luxuries in life. She’d gone through enough that she shouldn’t feel the least guilt over taking a day each month to pamper herself.
Sierra shook off her melancholy thoughts, and reminded herself to focus. If she could go back home and visit Bree, she’d have the elbowroom she needed. Bree loved a day at the spa. Sierra now wished she’d actually gone with her friend when she’d had the chance. She’d wasted her small time of free rein when she’d been in college, her fear of her father carrying too much weight, even from a distance.
Sierra glanced at the front desk where immaculately dressed men and women stood watching her approach. One of the women managed to actually tilt her nose in the air while still looking down it at Sierra. She didn’t care what the snobby woman thought. She was comfortable with what she was wearing, even if the bleached blonde didn’t approve.
“Are you lost?” one of the fake-and-bake guys asked her when she stood there gaping at them. If Ken and Barbie were to come to life, this is what they’d look like, she thought in fascination.
“No, actually. My boss is here and I need to speak with him,” Sierra said, happy with the confidence echoing in her tone. She didn’t feel all that confident, but she was used to faking her emotions to create her desired effect.
“Sorry, darling. We have a ‘do not disturb’ policy that’s strictly in effect. If your boss wanted to see you, then he’d have left you with a number. Even employers need time to themselves,” one of the girls said, as if Sierra were nothing more than an annoyance in her otherwise perfect day.
“Thank you for visiting our spa. Now, please exit the way you came in. Have a wonderful day,” Mr. Ken doll said before turning his back and continuing his conversation with another employee.
Sierra felt like steam was coming out of her ears. She was normally calm, almost submissive, but she’d had enough. Her dad walked all over her, her sister treated her like she was there to serve her, Damien acted like she didn’t exist, and now real life Barbie dolls were dismissing her. She was done.
Squaring her shoulders, Sierra stepped closer to the desk and slapped her hand down on the polished surface, making one of the girls jump. The four employees standing there slowly turned with eyes of astonishment, as if no one ever challenged them behind the desk.
“Look. I’m tired, not thrilled about having to be here, and getting more irritated by the minute. Why don’t you stop acting like there’s a stick shoved up your ass, and make yourself useful by doing your job. I need to speak with Damien Whitfield immediately. It’s urgent,” Sierra said, taking time to look each person in the eye.
She felt a stirring of pride as she watched the shock enter their faces at the authority in her tone. For being a door-mouse for too many years, she was sure making up for lost time. She had to fight back the smile wanting to break free at the surge of adrenaline rushing through her.
Barbie doll number two was the first to break eye contact as she took a step back, then whispered something to one of the guys, who then turned slightly toward her so they could have a quiet discussion.
“Could you tell us what this is about?” the guy asked when they were finished.
“It’s none of your business, but I will tell you this. Mr. Whitfield doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Sierra really hoped Damien didn’t tell them to throw her out on her butt, making her look like a complete fool. If he did, she was done, fear of her father, or no fear. She was tired of being humiliated. It had to stop at some point.
“Fine, I’ll go speak to Mr. Whitfield personally, and tell him he has a… guest out front. Please go sit over there,” Barbie number one finally said before pointing at benches off in the corner, out of view of the front doors.
Sierra fought back a smile as she turned and walked to the benches. So this is what it feels like to win a small victory, she thought. They obviously couldn’t have someone looking so raggedy out in the public view. What would their rich clients think about that?