You're working in your father's firm one day...

"It's so much!" the girl gasps when presented with the bill. You can't help but roll your eyes, thankfully facing away from them so they can't see you. The girl should take a look at your bill; she'd feel like she'd gotten a bargain.

"Good quality costs," her boyfriend says. You can all but feel his eyes on your ass and stifle a snort. Throughout their numerous visits he'd taken every opportunity to ogle you. Being only part-time meant he missed you on a few occasions but you'd still seen him several times, including the 'demonstration'.

Your body being such a comprehensive model of your step-father's work you're often 'presented' to various clients, used to show off the fine work of Dr. Hertz.

Yes, your father's name is Hertz and yours is Rainwood. Your mother felt it important that you 'honor' your dead father by retaining his name. You're not quite sure how it honors him but you've never felt the urge to be Jenny Hertz. The name just calls for jokes. Like the oft-heard 'Can I rent you for a ride, Jenny?'

"Thank God the swelling went down. I can finally see what it looks like without worrying that it was botched," the girl says.

Another snort fights to get out, but you somehow suppress it. Your step-father doesn't make mistakes. That's why he charges so much.

Thinking about his charges reminds you of your own gargantuan bill, contained within these very file cabinets you're working with. Last time you saw the bill you almost had a panic attack. The minimal wage you're paid for filing doesn't even begin to pay it off; in fact, you're not even keeping pace with the interest payments.

And then there's the college bill...

"She has to earn it or she won't appreciate it," you step-father had insisted four-years ago when you first started down the road of plastic surgery. Nevermind the fact that he was the one pushing to do the surgeries and you only gave in because he insisted. That and you didn't really believe he'd charge you.

He'd said the same thing about college, albeit with an additional, "The girl has to have a college education. Lord knows she doesn't have the brains to be a success otherwise." Hurtful remark aside you don't really see the point, though you have to admit you'd hate to be stuck doing jobs like this the rest of your life.

"I guess we'll put the payment on the credit card," the boyfriend says.

God you wish you could do the same. Attempting to have some spending money of your own has run up your credit card, giving you yet another source of debt to pay.

"Jenny," a voice says, making you jump and nearly drop the file you're holding.

"Oh, uh, hi Becca," you say to the slim brunette now standing beside you. It's always amazed you that this beautiful woman hasn't had a lick of surgery in her life. It drives you mad with jealousy.

"Dr. Hertz wants you in room 3," Becca says, and you color a little at her tone.

It might be your imagination but you could swear there's always a sneer beneath her words when she speaks to you. Maybe it's just your insecurity talking. Your mom's always going on about that. It makes you wish you didn't have a self-help author for a mom.

"Alright, coming," you say with a smile, and find yourself jutting out your chest as you notice the boyfriend comparing you and Becca.

Putting the file back into the cabinet you walk off, subconsciously adding a little extra wiggle in your step as the man's eyes dart between you and Becca, ultimately sticking with you when he catches Becca giving him a frosty glare.