RICHIE'S POV
Just another after party. We decided to have it at an actual bar instead of at one of the staff's homes.
Some loser decided to call a limo. I hate riding in limos. It's what people think being rich is like, plus they smell weird. If you can't tell, I'm in a shit mood today. None of my jokes seemed to land right, and everyone is just pissing me off.
I the youngest person here, I'm only twenty-five, and people love to point that out. People think that being younger means that you aren't as good. They treat me like a child.
The limo pulls in and everyone floods in, there was only fifteen of us tonight.
"Where to?" The voice sounds familiar, but I brush it off. It can't be anyone I know, the driver must have one of those voices.
"The Manic Bar!" Bill's assistant, Beverly shouts.
Great, the nastiest bar ever.
"Chee, what's up with that frown? Flip that shit upside down!" Ben slurs, he's already shit faced.
I just roll my eyes and look around the limo.
The driver seems to keep it very clean, thankfully. There's hand sanitizer in many different compartments, along with babywipes. I look closer at the driver and see that he's wearing gloves. Full on doctor gloves.
I can't blame him, I might be nasty at times. But, limos are always fucking disgusting.
There's so much talking that I barely hear the driver say, "We're here. That'll be fifty bucks."
The rest of thr group left the limo without paying. I was the last one left.
"Sorry about them." I pulled out my wallet and pull out fifty dollars.
"It's no problem, I'm used to it." We finally make eye contact, and damn... He's attractive.
I place the money in his hand, my tattoo out in the open.
He gasps, "I remember you."
"You do?"
AN
oOOOoOooOoOoOooOo!!1!11!1!!1!
-GROOVYLADY
