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[ 10 ] : Sour Candy

What was something almost all wealthy, successful men were wary of?

A gold digger!

So, that's exactly what I needed to become.

If I made Julian believe that I was more interested in his money and the luxuries that could afford me—I'm certain he would be disgusted by the thought of spending any more time with me. It was the safest and quickest way to handle things.

I fluffed my curls with my fingers. The image in my mirror set my teeth on edge. Bright red lips and dark sooty shadow, the shimmer on my cheeks glittering under the fluorescent light. Becca would be pleased. I could hear her in my head telling me to exchange my simple stilettos for my thigh-high boots. But that wasn't going to happen. This look was going to draw enough attention.

Twisting to the side, I grimaced. This skirt was too short and too damned tight. It was like I stuffed myself into a human-sized finger trap. The thought of trying to get it off later made me want to vomit or maybe that was the vice grip around my stomach. 

 A part of me was grateful that I spent a large portion of the summer working out with Becca. Most of my hard work had faded with stress and my fondness for pasta. But the small bit of flesh exposed by my cropped, double breasted vest top showed the smallest outline of abs. I was attempting a sexed-up secretary look—something tasteful but sent a particular message. My grimace deepened as I stared down at my chest.

Even with the pushup bra, there wasn't much to work with. It's not that I cared. Well, I cared a little, but I didn't hate my body. And if I were going to pick something to change it wouldn't be my cup size. I hunched forward in the mirror and bent my knees, trying to keep myself fully in frame. Thankfully, Julian was a tall man. Though, maybe it would be easier to break things off if he was shorter than me. 

The alarm on my phone cut through my anxious thoughts.

It was time.

I flashed myself a tight, forced smile in the mirror, snatched my phone and clutch from the counter and left the bathroom. Walter was basking on his driftwood, looking rather content after the treat of grapes I'd fed him earlier. I was a bit jealous. But after tonight, everything in my life would go back to the way it should be 

I headed out of my apartment, passing Mrs. Song my elderly neighbor as I made my way to the elevator. She peered over her glasses at me, a sound of disapproval echoing at the back of her throat. I gave her a sheepish grin. We shared many conversations over the several years I lived here. She looked out for me and I looked out for her — but that also left me open to her judgments. Not that I minded all too much. She cared, despite her harsh remarks.

"You look cheap. Even I could afford you."

My tongue slipped over my bottom lip as I pressed the call button for the elevator.

"Are you so bored you've been paying for company now? Tell me the going rate so I can compare."

Her brows arched up, the corner of her mouth lifting into a crinkled grin. She pressed her key into her door. The snick of the lock releasing was followed by the ding of the elevator.

"I'm not interested in listening to a screaming baby. Make sure to wrap it."

A familiar ease and laughter settled over me. We shared a smile before I stepped into the elevator. 

The ride down and walk through the lobby were nothing compared to stepping out onto the sidewalk. It was impossible to ignore the burning of attention of bystanders as I approached the dark windowed, sleek SUV parked at the curb. A middle aged man in a finely pressed suit stood waiting near the backseat passenger door. His eyes widened at the sight of me but his expression remained neutral. That little detail helped ground me in reality, to be honest.