"Even if you don't know it, I sit higher than you," -C.T

I just knew it was a bad idea to stumble out into the area of the middle class.

I should've listened to the feeling in my gut and pretended that I had come down with the flu and stayed inside, avoiding all contact with the poor. Bad things always happened when I didn't stick to where I supposed to be.

"I just want you to realize," I kept a steady tone, knowing full well that it was increasing with tremor and anger. The tall man stumbled in surprise as he clutched napkins in his hands. "This is Armani," I growled with emphasis, taking a step closer to the man, wanting him to understand how severe this situation was. It was dire. "Do you have any clue as to how expensive this material is?" I hissed, taking in his disheveled figure. "Never mind," I sneered, shaking my hands to get the fruit punch off. "You probably wouldn't."

The man blinked in confusion, wiping down his white tank-top that looked as if he had bought it from Walmart, Faded Glory, with his denim pants that I didn't recognize, but at least he owned a pair of Timberlands. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The murmurs and whispers from the hushed crowd began to cease as the sheepish man began to pat my shirt down, hoping that those cheap napkins would have any effect. "Stop," I demanded, taking a step back from him. "You're ruining the material!" I glared at the tall individual and he flinched slightly. "Just stay over there," I had to will myself to count to ten and not do anything to kill this person because he was getting there. "Just my fucking luck," I was this close to exploding but I couldn't because I didn't want to embarrass Vivi. She was the only reason why I wasn't ripping a new one into this middle-class wannabe.

"I'll go get one of your backup shirts!" Vivi had said, but I was too livid to listen to her. "I'm sorry," The man finally spoke and I rolled my eyes in disgust, hearing that unusually deep voice of his. What, did he smoke on a daily basis? Of course. The poor always relied on such things like that to help get them through the stresses of poverty.

Tch.

The stickiness of the liquid only soaked my shirt, thankfully, because if it had stained my Gucci pants, I was going to do more than kill this dumbass. It was starting to dry up as the coffee shop waiters came to clean up the mess that this fool made. "Next time, watch where you're fucking going," I fumed, clenching my hand back and forth as Tomas came over, sensing the atmosphere. My guess was that he knew this dumbfuck and was coming to appease him.

"This is my best friend, Quino," He muttered quietly and awkwardly and the man dubbed Quino offered me a smile. Like I fucking wanted it. Didn't they see that I was standing here still dripping wet, obviously uncomfortable? The etiquette of these people. "I'm Joaquin van Zante," The brownish-blonde waved with a crinkle to those dull eyes of his. God, he looked so plain and so boring. How the hell did Vivi entangle herself with a crowd like this? I frowned deeply in contempt, wondering if I should even rally this man's ears with who I am. He didn't need to know as he tarnished my entire wardrobe.

"This is Cheyenne Thorn," Vivi said as she walked back into the shop, eyes warning me to calm down as she took Joaquin's hand. "I'm Vivienne Baudelaire," She smiled and his dull eyes lit up as if he recognized her. "Nice to meet you," He said before his gaze flicked back to me, regret and remorse filling those orbs. Fuck that.

"I'll pay for your dry cleaning," He offered as if that would fix everything. I rolled my eyes as Vivi handed me a black Louis Vuitton shirt. "As if you could afford it," I grumbled and Joaquin frowned, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I wasn't sure earlier," He took a step towards me, watching me switch out my shirt with ease and quickness. "But your attitude confirms it. Are you your typical rich boy?" He raised a brow, that disgusting face of his burning my sight. I tilted my head, fixing him with such a stare, it would rival Medusa's. This man didn't know me and I had to chuckle because I could ruin his life in a matter of milliseconds.

"I'm gonna let that comment slide because obviously you weren't taught enough manners to know that you should respect those that are classes higher than you," The fire in those dead eyes of his began to ignite, but I wasn't scared. "So pipe down," I leaned in for effect.

"Poor boy."

Joaquin's hand clenched as he took a deep breath, a tic in his jaw as his eyes promised my death. What could he do to me without money? Nothing.

"Okay, why don't we just take a seat," Tomas said with a chuckle of unease as Poor boy and I stared at each other. "You know, eat some of the food that Quino brought us?" He ushered over and I sneered quietly, knowing that I would rather choke on tiny shards of glass than fill my body with the unhealthy and untreated trash he called food.

I tossed my wet shirt into the bag Vivi handed me and sat down next to her at the same table, ignoring the big and sheepish man across from me. I could sit here and play pretend just for Vivi. I didn't have to talk to him, but I could play nice with Tomas. "So, Tomas," I ignored the smell of the food, fighting disgust as Vivi slurped on the noodles. "What type of restaurant do you run?" I asked, nose turning up at the scent of pasta. Were they organic noodles? Was it a home-made organic sauce? What kind of meat was it? I hoped that it wasn't some pasteurized concoction or I seriously was gonna vomit on site.

"It's a Mediterranean spot, " He responded with a smile and I nodded in somewhat of acknowledgment, giving him props. Food like that was unusually hard to come by, especially when you didn't have a good acquisition of funds. "I helped him come up with the idea," Joaquin put in his two cents and I heaved a sigh, fighting back some sarcastic comment as I turned my uninterested stare to him.

"Oh, yeah?" I muttered, refraining from saying some evil things. I could feel Vivi glaring into the side of my head so I just looked away, not giving him my time of day. "What is that you do, Cheyenne?" Tomas asked in return as he looked at me. He wasn't bad looking, but he didn't have anything on me. "I paint," I stated, knowing that if he told my secret, I could just hire an assassin to get rid of him.

Joaquin snorted as if he couldn't believe what I had just said and I looked at him, raising my brow. "Something funny, poor boy?" I folded my arms, ignoring Vivi's kick to my ankle. Tomas's little warning about how sheepish this dude was had to have been a lie because almost everyone would never antagonize someone so far above them. He should be begging to lick the material of my Louboutins, or to even feel the silk of that Armani just for an experience, one that he would never have.

"Yes, it is, if you ask me," Joaquin folded his arms with a smirk and I took a deep breath. "A rich boy like you takes pride in such a low-born activity like painting. Such irony, don't you think?" He asked, knowing that he was getting to me. I had to remain calm because this was probably going to be the only time he got to interact with who had millions upon millions. After this whole thing Vivi called herself creating, I was never going to see this classless individual again.

"At least I have something to fall back on if people stop buying my paintings. Not that they ever would," I smirked with a bit of confidence. "Tomas says you're a waiter. Does that job provide you with enough sustenance to not struggle?" His nostrils flared and I clicked my teeth. "Probably not," I seethed and Vivi and Tomas looked at each other, possibly trying to convey with their eyes on what to do.

I warned her not to bring me here or meet anybody outside of Tomas. He was enough as he at least attempted to put on some MK. This man in front of me, I seriously hoped that he owned something that was worth more than a hundred dollars.

If not, he was a total lost cause.

Not that he already wasn't.

Joaquin clenched his jaw, remaining quiet. There, I could see the sheepish nature that Tomas mentioned. A big bear who wanted to talk all the crap he wanted, but couldn't own up to it. Being in his presence was suffocating and I wanted them to hurry up and eat so I could leave.

"Oh my God," A cheerful voice came from the right of me and I turned to see what unfortunate soul decided to bother me. "You're Cheyenne Thorn! The prodigal heir of the Thorn family!" A girl probably the age of 16 smiled in glee as she stared at me. It was pretty often that people recognized me when I so dared even thought about driving through the slums of San Jose. None of them actually had the audacity or the sheer gall to come up to me like this one did. "Can I get a selfie with you?" I looked at her with the straightest face I probably ever had in life, the itch to say no creeping upon me. It would just be so easy to crush her hope, make myself the villain as always.

"Fine."

She nearly howled in glory as she pulled out her 11 Pro, a good choice, before coming up behind me. I stiffened slightly when she wrapped an arm around my neck, positioning the camera in front of us as she put her head next to mine. I didn't smile ever, and that wasn't gonna change for some prepubescent teenager. "Say cheese!" She giggles and I gazed straight at the front camera, face dead to the world.

"Thank you so much!" The girl beamed as she skipped away, promises to hold the picture close and dear to her heart. "Oh, that was really nice, Chez," Vivi smiled at me, red sauce all over her lips. "No, it was just annoying with how happy she was so I decided not to take away her will to live," I deadpanned and she rolled her eyes as Tomas leaned over with a napkin to wipe her lips.

Sickening.

I made a face of repulsion as they smiled at each other. I didn't want to be looking at some significant other like the stars shined out of their ass. I'd rather stay away from that kind of thing. "So how did you two meet?" Joaquin asked, referencing to Vivi and I and I questioned his very existence.

"Chez and I met when we were kids. We were four years old in the same class at our private school. Since our fathers, Phillippe and Sterling, were best friends, it was natural that we were," I rolled my eyes at mention of that wannabe father of the year, but nodded in agreement nonetheless. "Chez threw paint at me and I started crying so he tried to paint me a blue rabbit so I would stop," I snorted at one of the few fondest childhood memories that I had, smirking in response.

"Did it work?" Tomas asked and I shrugged. "We're friends now as you can see," I stated, realizing how casual we looked just sitting here in the general public. Different amounts of net worth, yet I could admit that Tomas wasn't as bad. He still had a long way to come before I would even consider anything. "Yeah!" Vivi chuckled in reply. "Yeah, of course. He's my best friend," She looked at me and I looked at her, trying to tell her to stop looking at me like that before Tomas threw a fit. "It's a shame he's not my type though," She said and Tomas choked on saliva while I shook my head.

"Oh, I was a little scared there for a moment," Tomas huffed in relief  and I had to fight the urge to ask him what his yearly income was as it would be better to know now than when they were oh so madly in love with each other. "So does that mean we are all friends now?" He asked and I frowned in horror. I had a very small friend group and I was not looking to expand it. "No," I fixed him with a look and he had the nerve to pout. He didn't need to be my friend or anything like that. I just needed to know that he would treat my Vivi right and we'd never have to see each other again.

"Of course not, Tomas," The sheepish bear finally spoke up, not that it mattered. "Why don't you understand? Rich people like him wouldn't be caught dead with us," He folded his arms, glaring at me. "He's too pretentious for that."

It was official.

This man deemed Joaquin van Zante was now on my hit list.