Page 2 of Indebted

“How do you know?” I asked, skeptical.

I hadn’t had time to do any digging on the internet. I’d been too busy trying to reach someone to fix the situation immediately. Sans that, I’d needed to go into my bank records to try and scrape together any money I had left in the event I needed to make a payment.

“I may have bribed some information out of the cute boy who works in the financials office when I got out of Econ class this morning,” Zoe flashed an innocent smile.

God bless, Zoe Costa, using her newly inherited riches for the greater good.

“Did he give you anything else?” I didn’t understand why anyone in this crowd would be interested in anything to do with me. Hell, most of the attendees here looked down on me. I would definitely qualify as a lower income resident.

My gaze drifted to one of the glaring poster boards propped on an easel beside the lap pool, the words flaunting that all who attended this private event should be proud of themselves for donating to the cause. It made me sick.

I didn’t come from money. I didn’t have the fancy mansion in Beverly Hills or the beach home in Santa Monica. I used grocery store brand shampoo and had the same pair of jeans since high school. My auburn hair hadn’t been cut in four months. I didn’t get regular blow outs, or highlights, and ninety percent of the time, the only thing on my face was sunscreen.

Someone the rich and entitled wanted to linger with, I was not.

Zoe somehow managed to pilfer another utensil from my table, the spoon spinning through her fingers. She hated these events as much as I did. Zoe hadn’t come from money either, but then her dad re-married to a business mogul. Money problems solved.

Must be nice.

I shook the thought away before my mind could spiral down the depressing road of my familial relations and reached for the silverware before Zoe got me in trouble.

“Well?” I prompted, missing spoon firmly back in my hands.

Guests were starting to filter in from the side entrance, which meant I only had so much time to get Zoe to talk. No easy feat.

“Don’t worry, Anal Beads,” Zoe’s nickname for my uptight-ness stiffened my spine. I hated it. It always accompanied weird looks from passerby’s. “I got his number and he’s going to text me more info, he has to wait till his boss leaves for the day.”

“Don’t call me that, I’ve never used those, and you know it.”

Somehow, she’d commandeered another utensil. “Well maybe you should. It might help with some of that,” she waved the knife at me like a wand. “Stick up the ass syndrome you got going on.”

“It’s called stress, Zoe. I’m behind on tuition payments thanks to this nameless asshat. Someone I didn’t ask to help me, either. This was supposed to be government money.”

“So?”

The guests were coming in herds now. Black and white cows. Zoe’s peach dress stood out. She did it on purpose. “So,” I lowered my voice and tried to look busy. “In my experience random strangers don’t donate that kind of money to one person unless they want something. And I am no one’s circus clown.”

My gaze narrowed on the perfectly tanned, botoxed guests. Anyone of them could be my mystery benefactor. The question that gnawed at me was, why? What did they want? I had nothing to offer, which made me antsy. The school year was set to begin soon and if this payment situation didn’t get sorted, I was so screwed.

I had to find out who it was. Maybe it was time to do my own sleuthing between carting trays of caviar and stupid expensive champagne.

Sweat dotted my forehead as I steered clear of another guest, my shoulder burning with the stacks of empty glasses and plates piled onto my tray. Every time I passed a new set of fake pearly whites, a hand shot out and more shit was added to my tray with no regard for my shaking muscles.

I wasn’t even an hour into my shift, and I already needed water, and to find a quiet corner in the mansion to enjoy the air conditioning. After putting my dirty tray down, I headed toward the arched double doors that connected the kitchen to the large backyard. I knew they were unlocked, we weren’t quote, unquote, prohibited from going into the mansion, but after dropping off my tray of dirty dishes, I grabbed a few empty bottles as my insurance policy.

The man dressed in a pressed suit standing by the kitchen double doors stared at me.

I offered my most beguiling smile and held up the champagne bottles. “Going to grab a few more before the speeches start.”

I got a stiff nod for my words and the door opened for me.

The first hit of AC nearly had me moaning.

Cool air bathed my skin, sending a chill down my spine, freezing the dots of sweat where they rested.

Only in California can it go from uncomfortably hot to extreme cold in a manner of seconds.

I hurried past the open design kitchen, not allowing my eyes to focus on the dark marbling or large island. It was modern and beautiful, and I hated that I liked it. Maybe one day I could have this, it was something to strive for, something else I would earn on my own.