Page 7 of Billionaire's Desire
I left the interview feeling confident and hopeful. I was eager to hear back from them and start my new job. I take the elevator and just as I am getting back into my car, I get an email confirming that I got the job and I will start on Monday.
The money was decent enough that I would be able to add it to mybakery reopeningsavings and still have a little more to tide myself over. I would have to sell my crappy car, and cinch my belt a little more, but I could already feel my tides changing.
I scream with joy and excitement. “This is it!” I bang on my steering wheel. “This is my lucky break.”
I need to celebrate.
Before I can think about it too much, I drive to a local supermarket. I need to get Merlot to celebrate.
It would cost a little more than I should spare, but this is the first time in a long time that I feel like I have something to look forward to and celebrate.
I park my car and walk straight to the liquor store.
Only one bottle remained.
Just my luck.
I reach for the bottle just as another hand does the same.
I look up and find myself staring at the same eyes that I had looked into this morning. This is the same strange man that jumped in the backseat of my car.
He looks at me and says, “What are you doing? That’s mine.”
I’m taken aback by his rude tone, and I respond, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that since I found the bottle on the shelf.” I cannot help the sarcastic tone in my voice.
But he doesn’t stop there. He continues, “Can’t you see that I’m trying to buy this bottle? You’re always getting in the way.”
“I don’t even know you,” I almost screamed. “Now let go of my bottle.”
His rude behavior is uncalled for and it leaves me wondering what I did to deserve such treatment.
This man must be the antithesis of all my good luck; I got a job interview then he showed up almost making me run late, and now I want to celebrate my first win in months and here he is again, trying to take it from me.
His eyes bore into me, and I am aware of the scene we must be making I try not to start a screaming match with him.
He drops his hand and I pick the bottle and nestle it to my chest.
“Thanks for nothing,” I cannot help but say.
I turn to leave when he stops me again.
“Can I at least buy it from you?”
“Excuse me?” I turn back around and face him.
“Look, I will be honest. I genuinely need that bottle more than you do, and you could use the money, so fair exchange?”
Icould use the money?This man is dripping with audacity. What is it with rich people always thinking of ways they could throw money at problems? It has happened with some of my past employers. It happened with Mr. Cole. For some reason, I always end up screwed.
I could use the money for sure, but the way he said it so condescendingly and painstakingly rudely pricks at my pride.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t need your money.”
“I didn’t mean it like that-”
“I know how you meant it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a bottle of Merlot to enjoy. I will buy this bottle and then I will jump into my shitty ass car and drive to my shitty ass apartment and enjoy it, all by myself.”
He blinks his eyes and runs his hand through his hair.
