Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry I had to borrow this dress from you,” I say as I rub my lap and feel the expensive satin fabric. I don’t need to see the price tag to know the dress costs more than what I’ll make in a year working the front desk at H&R Block during tax season. “I just didn’t have time to shop with the short notice.”
I’m lying, but I bite back the urge to tell my cousin the truth. That even if I wanted to go shopping, I don’t have any money to do so.
Sasha avoids eye contact and stares out the window. I get the feeling she knows I’m not being completely truthful. I’m pretty sure I said the same thing when I had to borrow the silver dress I wore at the Morelli party from her. She never did ask for the dress back, which was a good thing since I had to sell it to pay for groceries the following week. Sasha isn’t stupid, and she has to know there is more to the story than I’m telling her. In fact, she may think she knows what I’m hiding from her. But regardless of what she’s thinking, or how much she believes I’m down on my luck, she has no idea just how screwed I am.
Or that I’m living out of my car in fear that every night could be my last.
She might guess that I’m living paycheck to paycheck like most middle-class people, but she’d never guess that I’m so fucking poor that I’m actually in bed with the Russian mafia.
You’re supposed to have good times and bad times.
Hard times should pass eventually.
But for me it doesn’t seem possible. Living out of my car, constantly looking over my shoulder, and fearing every bump in the night, reaches a new low—even for me. There’s being down on your luck, and there is the dark hole that I fear I’ll never crawl out from.
I’ve been making one mistake after another because of my mother. Because of her choices, I suppose. But really it’s my fault, because I can’t say no to her. Over and over, the cycle is the same. She fucks up, I step in to try to help, and she… repeats, repeats, repeats.
Ever since my mother and her husband decided to follow some new get-rich-quick scheme and picked up everything to move to Costa Rica, I’ve been on my own.
Their move meant that the apartment we were sharing went with them.
Even though I had been the one paying most of the bills, I couldn’t swing all the payments any longer. I also owed a lot of people a lot of money, and though I’ve been able to pay the small loans off, there is a big one looming.
My mother—being my mother—didn’t even think twice about what would happen to me. She and my stepfather simply left as they always do. Classic Madison Bailey. I should be used to it by now. It’s been like this my entire life.
My brother, Dylan, has just left for college in Rhode Island for finance—on a full scholarship he busted his ass for—and the last thing I want him to feel is obligated to come and help me. So I keep my situation from him as well. He needs a fresh start and a chance for success, and I’ll make sure nothing gets in the way of him achieving that goal.
The rush of tax season is over, and I’m now currently unemployed… and homeless.
Does it sting that my parents abandoned me? Absolutely. I bailed my step-father out by borrowing money from the Sidorovs, but I only fucked myself by doing so. I put my life at risk for them. All so my mother and her husband get to walk away. I’m left to deal with the debt.
Betrayal. Pain. Heartache.
And sadly… the realization that this is my life and always has been.
What hurts the most is they never gave me credit for helping them. I don’t even remember getting a ‘thank you’ when I handed them money to pay off their debts that could have left them with broken kneecaps or even worse, dead. Did they ask where I got the money? Or did they wonder what I had to do to get the money?
No.
Maybe my mother thought I turned to my billionaire father for the money.
Maybe she thought I went to Bryant Morelli and begged for help, but she knows I’d never do that. I refuse to face a man who has never wanted a thing to do with me. I’d rather die than borrow a cent from that man… or in this case, I’d rather borrow money from a ruthless mafia family. And then die when I can’t pay it back.
My pride makes it impossible for me to turn to Sasha for help.