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She didn’t really come from money, but she also didn’t know what it was like to struggle. Fawn’s parents had worked her entire life and they were paying her way through school. She still had to work to pay for her rent and car and gas, but she didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, either. Me? I learned long ago that the only person I could count on was myself.
I didn’t have the luxury of being picky about who I worked for or where I lived.
I lived where I could afford.
I worked at places that gave me hours.
Fawn was younger than me by a couple of years, and during times like this, it really showed. Was she trying to suggest that Mr. Locke expected me to sleep with him? Was she trying to say that I was supposed to, what? Get naked for him? This wasn’t a sugar daddy kind of situation, and I didn’t really know what Fawn was trying to say. More importantly, I didn’t want to know. Fawn was the kind of undergrad kid who did the bare minimum required to get by. She was 24, which was already too old to be working on your first degree, and unlike me, she hadn’t taken a break from school. She just went part-time to classes, soaking up as much of her parents’ money as she could. During moments like this, I totally resented her.
When I got into my beat-up Saturn, I shook my head and tried not to cry. I didn’t want to be sad. I didn’t want to feel hurt or pain over Fawn’s words. I pulled the money out of my purse and looked at it for a second. Then I counted it again.
Maybe she’s right, I thought. Maybe I should just keep it. All of it. Maybe I should keep this cash and just not worry about the consequences. After all, what were the odds that Locke would notice it was even missing? He seemed like one really fucking rich dude. Besides, it would be so much easier to pretend like I hadn’t gotten the money or that I hadn’t noticed it, but something told me this was some sort of test. There was no chance that a guy as meticulous as Locke didn’t know exactly how much cash he’d handed me. She must be right.
I had Googled his address last night. Late, long after I should have gone to bed, I looked up where he worked during normal business hours and what he did. There were a bunch of articles about him, and lots of pictures of him with beautiful women hanging off his arm. Him and those suits... He always had a suit on. If I had to guess, I’d say he probably even had one specially made for swimming. That’s how often this guy wore suits. I didn’t dig any deeper. I didn’t read the articles. I wasn’t trying to win this guy over or anything like that. I just wanted to get him his money back.
Finally, I pushed all of my thoughts aside. Super rich businessman or not, he was my landlord, and I didn’t want to piss him off. It was the middle of the semester, after all. The chances of me finding another place to live this close to campus and in this price range were non-existent. I needed to just suck it up and graduate. If I could keep my head down and my nose out of trouble, I’d be finished before I knew it, and then I’d be able to get a real job in a different place. I’d be able to go somewhere new and start my life over again.
I didn’t want to get kicked out of my house right now. Not over a couple hundred dollars, anyway. Locke was a busy guy, but he was my landlord all the same, and I didn’t want to do anything to make him think I was untrustworthy.
I drove to the building where Locke worked. Correction: the building he owned. Apparently, he was quite the real estate guru. Who would have known? I probably should have assumed this, of course, but I’d been busy with my classes. My landlord had always been the least of my concerns.
Locke, Incorporated was a real estate firm and a real estate planning company that basically did it all. They owned properties, they bought properties, they designed properties, and they sold properties. If you needed something involving real estate in the city, you could turn to Locke. The building was huge, stretching into the sky, and as I stared up at it, I couldn’t help but wonder once more if I was making the wrong choice in visiting his place.
There was a parking garage beneath the building. I winced at the $20 price tag on parking. Maybe Mr. Locke would validate my parking or something. I didn’t know. Apparently, being honest had a hefty cost, and it was twenty bucks.
Damn.
Would it be trashy if I took the parking money out of the cash I was returning?
That would be trashy.
Shit.
Whatever. I’d deal with it later. I parked and took a deep breath, then grabbed my parking ticket and my purse and headed toward the elevators at the end of the row. The parking lot was full of cars, but there were no people in sight. It was 10:30. Everyone probably had places to be and meetings to attend. I pressed the button for the lobby and silently rode up to the main building.
When the doors opened, my heart sank as I took in my new surroundings. The lobby was pristine, and it was bustling. People were walking around, talking on phones and chatting with each other as they moved from the elevators to the glass doors. Some people moved to different, non-parking-garage elevators that had glass doors. Those moved quickly upwards, and I knew that those w
ent to different parts of the building. Everyone in the lobby looked...perfect.
Although I had chosen my best, most professional-looking outfit, I still felt out of place among the designer labels and the heels. Everyone had lovely heels on.
And me?
I was in worn-out boots, a too-tight pencil skirt, and a white blouse that had looked great in my mirror at home but that now looked about as beige as my house.
There was a reception desk in the center of the room, and I walked over to it. There was a woman sitting at the desk. She was beautiful. She was on the phone, though, and she was speaking so quickly I couldn’t understand a single word she was saying.
I looked around the lobby for a second as I waited. People were rushing around, moving to and from the elevators. Everyone had a briefcase. Everyone looked busy.
This...this was the place Mr. Locke came each day?
Yet he’d chosen to shop at Wish Mart for groceries last night?
He probably could have afforded to have someone do all of his grocery shopping for him. Hell, with the right app, he could have had his groceries delivered directly to his door. Why had he come in last night? Maybe he just liked to feel like a normal person.
“Can I help you?” The woman hung up their phone and looked up at me. She didn’t seem mean, but she didn’t smile, either. Her makeup was perfect and her hair was pulled back into a very tight bun. I wondered if she used hairspray, or if she straightened her hair before she pulled it back to get it looking so neat.
“Hi, um, hello,” I gave a little wave and a goofy smile. I was nervous. I didn’t know how to act appropriately. Hopefully, she wouldn’t hold it against me. “I, um, I’m here to see Mr. Locke.”
