Ocean’s Crest

On another side of town, closer to the beach, the waves were breaking and the early risers were already out for the day.

The Watermore Estates Resort & Spa was like a whole other world compared to its surroundings. Modern, elegant. And posh were the first words that came to mind. They had their own private beach, designer boutiques; Dior, Cavalli, Louboutin, Jimmy Choo, YSL, AG, and Burberry. The restaurants boasted names like Wolfgang Puck, Gordon Ramsay, and Emeril Lagasee.

Such a contrast from just a few blocks away where shops boasting clothing under $5 and quick service restaurants lined the streets; where the smell of salt and oil was prominent in the air and fried sugars teased the senses. Then down a street was the boardwalk where children could be seen with burgers, pizza, fries, and hot dogs. Later and the scents of fried delights always filled the air.

While the entire resort was an impressive sight, one might be most impressed with the penthouse where the owner resides. The beautiful hardwood floors were the first thing noticeable when walking through the apartment. The next would usually be Mr. William Harrington, dressed in an Armani suit, sitting in his favorite black leather chair reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. There were two white leather couches on both sides of the living room with the glass coffee table in the middle; a variety of magazines ranging from Vogue to Hotel Business laying on it. A white, velvety rug covered that area of the floor and an intricate crystal chandelier hung above shining light onto the area.

Mr. William Harrington was CEO of a large hotel chain created by his grandfather. Most would look at his life and immediately dub him privileged. Wealthy, white, blue eyed, gray hair man in his 50s with a trophy wife and two beautiful daughters; he had it all.

“The masquerade ball is fast approaching; I need to make a quick trip to France to find a gown,” his wife informs him.

“And what’s wrong with the boutiques in this country, Chantal?” he asks turning towards his wife.

“Nothing if I’m just going out shopping. It’s all about keeping up appearances, right? I need something suitable for the wife of a millionaire,” she answers.

Chantal Harrington was an opportunist who took every opportunity to flaunt her newfound wealth. Now almost 40, she met William Harrington as a young model, within 6 months they were engaged and within a year married in a lavish wedding with a child on the way.

All she had to do was sit on his lap, run her fingers through her curly raven hair and fix him with her chocolate eyes to get him to comply. Her husband always gave her what she wanted which was why she was lounging around the house is a dress that cost what most families in this town spent on groceries for two weeks.

“You’re lucky I love you, because you do ask for a lot,” he points out as he runs a finger down her mocha shoulder.

“Of course you love me. Where would you be without me? Another woman would have left you long ago,” she replies.

“One already did. You took her place, remember?”He recalls.

“And she hasn’t put up with what I have.”

There’s a girl’s voice yelling down the hall followed by banging on the door.

“Ashley,” William sighs in frustration.

“You’re turn; I took care of it last time.”Chantal said getting up.

“You speak like it’s a simple problem, with our daughter it’s never simple,” William says as he stands and heads towards the door.

Standing at the doorway is 15 year old Ashley Rose Harrington peering at her father with pity me eyes. She was quite a sight with her dark eyeliner which was smudged on her caramel tinted cheeks, her frizzed out hair, her black lace mini dress and pair of black Louboutin pumps in her right hand.

“Is that my Donna Mizani dress?” Chantal inquires crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, let us worry about the designer gown she’s wearing rather than the fact that she’s been escorted up here by a security guard and she looks like a hooker after a night on the town.” William said before shaking his head in disappointment.

“Daddy, I was just out having fun,” Ashley says.

“She was caught at Aqua last night with a small baggie of cocaine. She’s lucky we’re not calling the police which would have happened if she wasn't your daughter,” the security guard says releasing her arm.

“Thank you. You can go now. We’ll take it from here,” he waves the guard off and closes the door.

"Dad, I......" Ashley doesn't get to finish before she is cut off.

"You better have a very good explanation for why you're out damaging our family's reputation," William says in a stern voice.