The beautiful sun—stale from the 4 hours into the afternoon—shone through her Chicago hotel room, past the slightly drawn curtains. It hit her hair to clearly show where her blonde highlights were.

The people working on her makeup were now putting on her dress: a tight, royal blue, mini, strapless dress.

“You washed your hands, right?” she looked down at the people tugging gently at the bottom.

“Yes, Miss Black,” one woman from the ground replied.

“Thank God, I don’t want foundation on it. Not exactly its shade,” she chuckled, yet the people below did not—as if she was scolding them. She returned to the hard face they seemed to recognize.

“Okay, everyone!” her manager, Brandi, walked in. Everyone scattered. “Chop chop! Miss Black’s event is coming up!”

Brandi was wearing a royal blue pantsuit with a B pin on it. Her blonde hair was cut short and straight. She took Miss Black’s hands, “Jordyn, how darling! Your mother will love this”

“Brandi, why are you wearing blue?” Jordyn whined and curled her lip, which she did when she was frustrated.

“Because it looks professional,” Brandi let go of her hands, “Do you think Kris Jenner matches with Kim or Khloé?”

“But I’m not a Kardashian, I’m a Black. And you shoved me in a dress that’s not even my own father’s.”

“Like your father would even design a dress that sexy for his first-born daughter,” Brandi raised her eyebrow at Jordyn. She held her hands out then clapped them together, sighing, “Jordyn, Jordyn, Jordyn.”

Brandi went behind Jordyn to straighten up the back. Jordyn sighed then put her head down.

“Just what my reputation needs…”

Brandi sighed again and adjusted the clasp, “That is your own fault, Jordyn Black. And if it’s what the media wants, it’s what the media gets.”

Jordyn raised her head all the way back and looked at the ceiling, “A dumb party girl.” Brandi glared at her. Jordyn glared back and pulled her dress up to fit her bust.

“Great. So John Black’s daughter is going to wear a hoochy dress designed by…”

Jordyn turned to look at the tag on the side of the dress and gasped in shock, “1524 Fifth Avenue! Brandi! This is a dress maker, not a designer!”

“Well, Macy’s is opening a new line and they wanted your support,” Brandi replied calmly. She looked at Jordyn from the front now and checked the time on her Blackberry.

“Support?!” Jordyn yelled, “Brandi, I support the ASPCA. I support PETA. I do not support down-on-their-luck designers who can obviously not sew for—”

“Stop right there!” Brandi held out her hand, “Jordyn Heather Black, you are 25 years old. Act like it!”

Brandi stormed out of the room, “I’m calling your mother!”

“What happened to being 25?” Jordyn stopped Brandi in her tracks. Brandi looked behind and Jordyn continued, “For God’s sake, Brandi, I have my own apartment. 2! I have 2!”

“Then stop acting like you’re 2,” Brandi continued out of the room. Jordyn yelled after her.

“Fine! Tell her how her husband’s daughter is wearing a dress just like his. But no one was there to help him when he needed it!”

The hotel room door slammed. “Finally!” Jordyn sighed. She unzipped her dress and ran to her suitcase in her beige underwear and bra. She rummaged through her clothes and found a green, loose dress with pink hibiscus flowers. She examined the tag. John Black.

“Daddy,” she smiled. She ran to the door with the floor length mirror and zipped it up herself. She smiled as to how well it fit her and how much it covered. She bit her lip as she smiled and ran back to her suitcase. She replaced her 5 inch blue heels with 3 inch wedges with matching green straps, also John Black.

She heard her phone vibrate and grabbed it. 2 texts. One from her mother: “We need to talk. ASAP Jordyn Heather.”

She rolled her eyes. She then looked at the other text: Daddy. “Love you, sweet pea. Good luck tonight.”

Jordyn smiled and put her phone in the pockets of her dress, another reason she loved it.

One of the people who helped with her dress came in, looking scared of Jordyn. She stammered when she talked, as if Jordyn was going to kill her. “Y-your limo’s ready M-Miss Black.” Jordyn’s smile faded into her apparently natural hard look. The dress person walked quickly to the door with her head down.

“Hey!” Jordyn barked at her. The dress person squealed and quickly turned around. It almost sounded to Jordyn as if her whimpered.

“Y-yes Miss Black” she asked, looking down. She looked no more than 21. Her brown hair was in a severe bun. Jordyn couldn’t even make out her face.

“What’s your name?” Jordyn looked at the top of her head.

“Kylie,” she blurted. Her eyes looked shocked that she even said that.

“Thank you,” Jordyn nodded, dismissing her, “Kylie.”

Kylie rushed out of the room, panicked. Jordyn watched as the door closed behind her. She sauntered to the window and drew the curtains. She could see the lake and the beaches below, and the side of Navy Pier. She saw the waves carelessly moving back and forth. She then looked directly down at the street. Paparazzi, the top of Kate Upton’s head, and her limo in the line.

Jordyn then withdrew from the window, looked at the door, and finally followed Kylie when she was certain she was gone.