noun: someone; a person (more so woman) who puts forth the less fortuitous before themselves in compassions of nurturing and honoring the distinct.
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BEYONCÉ KNOWLES
Not so screwed after all.
The following week, I'd been in touch with the mystery victim's assurance company just as she didn't skip a beat getting a hold of mine. Onika Maraj, stated all of her confidential documents. Who was she? Definitely a woman of her word, one of the wealthiest I've only ever come across, and more notable to my knowledge and surprise, the daughter of one of the biggest names in international enterprises. Robert Maraj, Founder of Maraj's Propel Inc— worldwide business magnate, philanthropist, and her damned father.
No research was needed, I knew all about his name itself and what he's done for abroad travelers in and out of the United States. I had to give him props and a great thanks, just as anyone else, and that was from my domestic living. It was people like me that took his deed and Maraj's Propel Inc into gracious thanks.
As for Ms. Maraj's car being rammed by mine, an entirely different song was being played. I haven't even thought of coming close with such bigger people, but I guess anything was possible. Not that I was certain I had all the funds to cover my careless actions, but I knew sooner rather than later was the time to overthrow this whole ordeal.
That's what has been going on these past seven days. Her insurance company sought mine like normal in a third party claim. I was at fault, guiltily proven and damage had been done on both ends. Now, the price had been laid out. My insurance was just at it's tearing point, having to cover her hot pink mess of a car and my little... pony.
But after today, I'd be done with the dreading of the week. I wouldn't have to see the interior of this same conference room anymore or be on a phone call with a Garden State's Car defense affiliate. I felt like the weight had been lifted but there was only one thing bothering me today.
Up until this week, I hadn't seen the face of Onika Maraj since the wreck, nor have I heard that annoying prickling voice of hers. I couldn't tell you why it was bothering me, I should have been happy to not hear her scream and reminder to me of how stupid I am or was then, but I wanted to. I wanted to get a good look at her this time again. I had failed to a week ago but her voice had been stuck in my head. On replay.
My wish had been granted full access upon request, that being said. I know I'd just stated how I wanted to see her, but I was not expecting her to walk through the mahogany doors of the headquarters. The "meeting" was even over; Why was she here?
And she struts in with precision. It caught me off all guards, her hair looked totally different than I last witnessed it. It was pressed flatly out and past her shoulders, jet black. Her makeup looked as fierce as she came; erotic in ways I shouldn't even be thinking of. As mean as she looked, I wouldn't put a matching attitude past her but this Maraj was sexy, I had to admit.
