Page 4 of Billionaire's Desire
She is brunette, and her lips are painted some kind of cherry color.
She bangs her fists on her wheel and all thoughts of her beauty leap out of my head.
“Get out. Get out. Get out.” I finally manage to decipher.
Beautiful, but absolutely no manners at all. What in the hell is wrong with her?
“No. I am running late.”
There is a flash of confusion on her face as she continues to stare at me.
“So what? How the hell is that my problem?”
I am so confused by the lack of decorum from this woman. Is it because I was a few minutes late? I don’t understand what could warrant such behavior from her.
There is now a line of vehicles behind us, honking because she is holding back the traffic.
“Can you fucking calm down?”
“No. I will not fucking calm down. Get the fuck out of my car. Get the fuck out right now!” There is clear exasperation in her voice and if it was any other day, I would have been inclined to try having an adult conversation with her, but today is not that day.
I am late, and I am exhausted and she is the rudest Uber driver I have ever met. I have no time or energy for any of this bullshit.
Is this how the other half live? A shudder runs through me.
This was not worth the time I was trying to save if I had just waited for the expensive ride I am usually accustomed to.
I am running late and sitting here with her in a stalled car isn’t helping.
“Fine!” I unfold myself from the backseat, and I make sure to bang the car door as soon as I am out of the car.
She immediately honks and speeds off.
I took a look at my app. She has cancelled my ride and given me a low rating.
Well, fuck you too!
Then, I order a different Uber because I have places to go, and about a million things to do.
Chapter 2
Maggie
Iscrollthroughmyemails again, hoping I will find the one I am looking for, but so far, all I can find are rejection letters.
I sigh deeply and immediately wish I could pick up my phone and call Poppy, but I can’t because she isn’t here anymore. Instead, I log into my backup and scroll through pictures of us; hiking, clubbing, having random girls’ night in. This makes me nostalgic and sad, so I toss my phone on the couch and head straight to the kitchen to grab a drink.
Pinned to my refrigerator, there is a RENT DUE notice which I try my hardest to ignore. I take out my bottle of Merlot but when I open it, I only find drips. I completely forgot that I drank that yesterday.
Damn it!
I have been job hunting for a week now, since the temp agency I have been working for hasn’t had any postings in a while now. I have bills waiting to be paid, and with the amount of money I have remaining in my bank account, I can only afford to buy groceries or pay my rent, not both.
I let out another frustrated groan.
A notification pings on my laptop and I bang my hip running back to the couch, but when I open it, it is not a job lead. Instead, it is another reminder of what my life was supposed to look like and how much I lost.
The email is from Mr. Scott, the elderly office building owner where my family bakery is located. He is inquiring on the status of the bakery’s reopening as he does every couple of months or so. At this point, I am not sure if he is genuinely concerned or just being plain nosy. Either way, tears prick my eyes when I read it.
