Sweet Rush

Four

"I can't believe you talked to Jane Pritchard. Maybe I should start working at your bar." Avana praises while looking off into the distance as if she's actually contemplating giving up med school.

I had told her all about my chaotic day and how the only words Mr. Jane Pritchard uttered to me was 'you'll need these.' I couldn't believe how demure he was in person after being the life of the party on the net. His social media is full of party pics with friends, and if not a party then somewhere outdoors. One thing I can say for sure is that he looks so much better in person. This would usually be used in the context where someone appears ugly in pictures but the thing is he didn't. He's absolutely breathtaking in his photos, the real thing is just way better. It's like the 'book is better than the movie' thing. He's the book and his pictures are the movie, nevertheless he's gorgeous.

"What does he smell like?" Avana asks, her hazel brown orbs staring up at me with wonder.

"He was too far away and why would I even highlight that it's literally so weird." I giggle, throwing a pillow at her. Her hollow dimple marks her face as she laughs at the gesture. Avana is a beauty, too beautiful for her to even notice. I've picked up on the way she talks to herself while telling me her boy dramas, and how she wasn't as pretty as the other girls. But the thing is she's way more beautiful than they are both inside and out. I wish she could see herself through my eyes. When we first met I kind of wondered why she chose to be a doctor when she can just use her face and body for money. 

And no I'm not talking prostitution, I'm talking modelling.

"I gotta leave soon." I shoo Avana away so I could get ready for the shift this evening. My hands are still aching a bit but thanks to Avana who fixed me up with wrapping my bandages and disinfecting it, they're a little better now.

I put on my black leather pants and matching jacket. More than half of my entire wardrobe is black. When people ask why I always wear black, I always tell them it's how I express myself. Some people will always believe that black isn't an expression, which is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. My hair is slicked back into a low middle part bun, and I dress it up with a pair of medium-sized gold hoops.

I exit the apartment, moving directly to the bus stop. On my way there my phone vibrates in my pockets and on my screen is my bank notification.

Pay day.

I open my account to see how much money I made. The total amount I have accumulated for the past two weeks leaves me speechless.

Why the heck is my pay two hundred dollars short? 

This has to be a mistake, I worked overtime for the past three days. Nothing adds up and if it's one thing I'm critical about it's my money. I make a mental note to ask Mr. Pritchard about this. I've never experienced this before with any of my pay checks so it's kind of strange that it's happening now.

I'm sure it's just an error in my time card or something.

I get to the bar and place my bag into my locker before making a beeline to the office. When I get to the door, I knock gently before hearing "come in" but it's not the voice I'm used to hearing. Skeptically I open the door only to come face to face with Jane except he's staring down at his phone.
Oh heck no. I'm not talking about my pay with him.

"Oh hi, is your grandad around? I need to speak with him." I say still standing at the door waiting for him to look up and acknowledge me.

"No need for him. You can speak with me. What do you want?" Jane dodges my question. His eyes are still glued to his phone and I wonder if he is even mature enough to be in this position.