Sugar Daddy (Harry Styles)

Six

Without any thought in my head I go back and forth between my embarrassingly dry  instagram and twitter accounts. Pathetic, I have around 80 followers on each, with a pointless feed and shitty posts, it perfectly describes my life - empty and weak.

I stand up, throwing my near broken phone on the couch and clicking the button to play my messages. Normally my voicemail is dryer than my social media but the red light is flashing so we'll see.

"Good morning Serena," an unrecognizable voice speaks. "Mr. Styles needs his dry cleaning picked up before noon, also his Mint Fresh shampoo from the drug mart. That is m-i-n-t shampoo, specifically for curly hair, from the drug mart. Oh and one more thing, a box of coconut cookies and a citrus Snapple."

The voicemail beeps and I cringe at the message I just heard. So what, I'm his fucking slave? He's paying me for sex, not to tend to his daily wants. A chore list is not what I had in mind for this job.

I brush my brown hair back into a top knot and pinch my cheeks. Looking into my bathroom mirror I don't even recognize myself. I look drained, and exhausted. Not the same person I was a month ago.

My mother and I had a rocky relationship. I never appreciated her the way she deserved to be. She really did try to give me the best life, apart from her being an exceptional alcoholic, she supported me. And now, I don't even know what that feels like. I haven't for years.

Since the day I moved out we completely stopped speaking. I was off, busy, trying to get off my feet. I graduated NYU with a degree in chemistry and business. It turns out I don't want to have a career in business or chemistry. Those four years were a waste of time and money. So there I was waitressing for 7 months, living pay cheque to pay cheque when I got the phone call that my lonesome mother was dead. I didn't even have a clue she was in the hospital, her body failing under cancers power.

I change into some comfortable clothing that's actually acceptable to leave the house in and slip into my black boots. Considering I look like I got hit by a truck, I slide a pair of sunglasses over my eyes before opening my apartment door. As I reach the lobby downstairs I pull out my mail key and reach inside the mailbox, grabbing an envelope.
Inside holds a cheque from Harry for $5000, my eyes go wide and I have to force myself to blink.  It doesn't feel real to me. I can't believe this.

I slip the cheque into my purse and take a deep breath. Let's go get his shampoo, I roll my eyes, walking outside.

-
After grabbing Harry's items, I walk down to this coffee shop on my street. I feel exhausted. The weather is holding up nicely, there's not much sun today but at least it's still warm out.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" The barista smiles at me brightly. She has round blue eyes, with soft brown hair pulled up into a pony tail.

"I'll get a grande dark roast black," I dig around in my purse for my wallet, pulling out my debit card.

"I must say, you are stunning," she says grinning.

"Oh, thank you," I look down sheepishly, smiling.

"No seriously, do you model?" The barista asks.

"No," I shake my head,laughing at the thought.

"Well have you considered it? One of my best friends is a manager for MSA Modelling Agency, they're always looking for new clients."

"I don't know about that," I wince.

"Here," she pulls out a pen. "Write your name and number on this napkin. I'll pass it to Courtney and she can call you in for a test shoot and you can see if you like it."

"Okay," I shrug my shoulders. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?

As I walk up to my apartment door I see a box sitting on the floor mat. I pick it up and look to see a silky red dress inside. Wow.

I immediately burst my front door open and throw Harry's plastic bag to the side. This dress is beautiful.

I hear my phone vibrate with a text from Harry - he's picking me up at 8.

Why though?