Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“I get it,” he said. “Trust me, or don’t…trust me.” He cringed. “Look, I’m not a creep. I know that probably isn’t clear with me approaching you on the street and all, and making you sit on my lap earlier for ten grand, but I digress. Please, just meet me here at three p.m. tomorrow and I’ll have a better business proposal for you.” Crossland handed me a business card, and I took it with a sense of surrealism.
Was this really happening?
“Please?” Crossland asked, those blue eyes locking with mine in full pout mode.
I’m sure he’d used that look on more than one person to get his way.
“Three p.m. tomorrow. Give me the ten minutes I need to show you I’m not a creep.”
I stuffed the business card into my little clutch that was now about to burst at the seams thanks to the wad of hundreds he’d given me earlier.
“We’ll see,” I said, and then spun around before I could stand there and say more. Before I could ask all the questions that were brimming in the back of my mind.
Jesse looked back for me, more than once, giving me exquisite details on the fact that Crossland didn’t take his eyes off of us as we walked away, not until we were completely out of sight from each other.
I don’t know why that made me smile, but it did. Guess there was something to be said for holding the attention of somebody supposedly so powerful, but I didn’t truly know who he was. He could be one of those super scary rich guys who collected people like pets and diamonds like candy.
Tonight had been way too weird, but as we stopped in front of the line that snaked in front of my favorite street vendor, I managed to get my breathing in check and my mind clear.
I’d chalk this up to a hilarious story I’d tell repeatedly throughout the years, and I’d never see Crossland again.
Because this wasn’t some romantic comedy movie or Hallmark special where some gorgeous billionaire sweeps in and fixes my life. That’s not how the real world worked.
In the real world, I preferred food truck tacos over exclusive bars.
In the real world, I worked as a barista, not a high-paid escort that helps some rich guy win a bet.
“You didn’t give me oat milk! You gave me whole milk. I ordered oat milk!”
“No, you said whole—”
“I paid seven dollars for this latte,” the lady snapped, smacking her hands down on the counter that separated us. “Now move your ass and make my drink the right way. Or do I need to talk to your manager?”
I was half-tempted to go to the back and grab Chels because she certainly would get a kick out of throwing this customer out, but instead, I took a deep breath and spun around to make the lady a fresh drink.
I was too wiped out to fight today, and she was my third angry customer in the past two hours. Once I finished making her drink, I handed it to her, plastering the best smile possible on my face.
“So sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am,” I said.
The woman rolled her eyes and snatched the cup out of my hands before stomping away.
There was a break in the rush, and I rubbed my palms into my eyes, trying to generate some life there. I’d had a headache since ten minutes into my shift, which I started at five a.m.
It was just after twelve now, and I was practically dead on my feet, but I picked up a few extra hours to cover for someone who was out sick.
Everyone here always counted on me to cover their shift, not because I was super dependable, but because I needed the money, and everyone knew it.
Brecken may have gotten a few grants for her first year at NYU, but I’d blown through my life savings on the rest of tuition. And it was only the first semester. I had no idea how I was going to buy her a second, but I would never tell her that. I just needed one of these fucking banks to cut me a break.
I had an appointment with a loan advisor after my shift—the third bank I’d tried this month.
I cleaned up the counters, refilling the cream and sugar stations and the napkin holders, losing myself in the routine of my day-to-day at work. I thoroughly enjoyed the quiet between rushes, especially after today had been a fuck-all of a day. I could probably blame it on how late I stayed out with Jesse last night, but I’d needed it, so it made whatever hell came my way today worth it.
The memory of being perched on Crossland’s lap flashed red hot through my mind.
It wasn’t the first time he—and his offer—had crossed my mind today. The ten grand was absolutely going to give me some breathing room for the next two months, especially if I budgeted properly.