Fifteen: Audrina Bianchi

Fifteen

Audrina Bianchi

“Where are you going?” Marie Bianchi asked.

It was Friday, and I had managed to arrange a club outing for Daniela. Luca and Niccolo would be there, and so would Louis. I was wearing a silver, Valentino dress, with a matching pair of strappy, silver high heels. “I’m going out.”

Marie Bianchi was a tall, dark haired woman woman in her forties whose plastic surgery had been paid for by the work I did as a model.

“Do you actually care?” I asked.

If she were the kind of parent that gave a crap, she would have. Especially since I had been arrested for having drugs in my purse and that was the whole reason we were in Boston in the first place.

She was sitting on the couch in the living room of our loft, flipping through a magazine, not even looking up from it to talk to me. “No. But I received a call from Andre this afternoon. He’s very upset that he hasn’t seen you recently. And you know, he is footing the bill for this place.” At this, she looked up from