Just as I took my stand behind the podium for the valet parkers, a very elegant vehicle pulled up. I could hardly tell if anyone was driving the car hence the super tinted windows. So far, I could tell that the driver was a tan male with a pair of very expensive sunglasses resting on his face.
As the car came to a halt, I glanced back to John and Amanda, the other teenage valet parkers on the job. They were too busy flirting and playing around to notice that they were supposed to be parking cars.
“Looks like I’ll be parking Mr. Fancy Pants’ car,” I muttered to myself as the guy quickly got out of his car. He was sharply dressed and looked like a million bucks. Lifting the sunglasses off of his face, he barely spared me a glance. I took a while to scrutinize his facial features: Piercing green eyes, sun-kissed skin, sharp jaws, and tossed brown hair. I noted how attractive he looked, but inwardly rolled my eyes at the amount of arrogance he carried.
The car keys were tossed onto the podium as he swiftly passed me. “Take care of Aston for me,” He barely mumbled. My prejudgment was proven true. I could already tell what type of guy he was: Arrogant, rude, and bad-mannered even though he was well-dressed.
“Aston?” I thought out loud. Knowing that he probably wouldn’t have cared to say anything else, I walked to the car.
“Yeah,”
I turned to the voice. Mr. Fancy Pants faced me with his arms crossed and a smirk arrogantly lain on his face. “Aston Martin…my car.”
It finally clicked when I realized that Aston Martin was the manufacturer of the car. His smirk grew as he realized that I was too dumb to know an expensive car’s name when I saw one.
Without another word, I climbed into the very expensive car. The dark red leather screamed dirty rich and the radio handles looked way too complicated to use. Everything looked fairly brand new as if he’d literally bought it before driving it here.
Finally inserting the keys, I gently drove ahead to the parking lot. I kept in mind that I had to be extra cautious with this car, especially since the owner looked like he could sue me for the millions of dollars that I didn’t have. I drove around to the back of the lot where most of the empty spots were. John and Amanda were still playing around as I passed them up.
For a second, their jaws dropped at the car I was driving. Amanda’s mouth opened and closed again and again until I realized she was saying something. Pushing the brake, I rolled down a window (That even took a few seconds to figure out).
“–so unfair! Why do you get to park fancy cars?” she spat, her eyes narrowed in envy and a little bit of fury. I never really liked Amanda. She always acted a little stuck up and turned her nose up at everything someone told her. Her attitude kind of reminded of the car’s owner.
John just stood there with a blank face. He was usually like this even with Amanda clawing her paws at his chest…even when they were flirting and playing around. He rarely gave off any emotion.
“You’re not even rich,” I turned my eyes back to Amanda who had made the comment. “You don’t deserve to drive cars that are–”
I drove off before the dumb girl could say anything else, and my mind wondered around the fact that some of what she said was true. It was true that I didn’t have much money, but she wasn’t right to say it to my face.
By the time I realized I was daydreaming, the car was parked in front of the country club again.
“You can’t listen to the stupid things that dumb girl tells you,” I said to compose myself. After shaking my head, I put the car back into driving gear.
Before I had the chance to drive off, the steering wheel came forward and slammed against my head. My foot slammed on the brakes as the pain in my forehead grew quickly.
“Stupid sun-of-a-gun,” I groaned as I realized someone hit the car from behind. I automatically closed my eyes as the sound of screeching tires made the pain worse. When the tires screeched again, my eyes snapped open and I glanced to the car at the left of me.
I couldn’t recognize the driver, but he looked a little younger than me. His eyes were wide and his mouth was held open in surprise.
“Oh, crap!” he mouthed before saying a list of obscenities. He looked frightened and his eyes told me he was scared. Before I could even place my hand on the door’s handle, the kid sped off and out of the lot.
“No!” I screamed. That little coward!
That’s when realization hit me. This very expensive car was damaged from behind and Mr. Fancy Pants was probably going to sue sooner or later when he finds out. The pain in my forehead throbbed, and I brought my hand up to massage it. My eyes closed and when they reopened, a small crowd had formed. I located my boss who face was covered with shock, anger, and…terror?
Was he scared about my minor injury?
With my hand still on my forehead, I climbed out of the car and stumbled my way to where my boss was standing. I rubbed the bump that was beginning to form and took a glance at it. At first, I thought that it was just fine, but taking a second glance I realized that it was starting to bleed a little.
“Ashleigh,” My boss whispered. I noted how his voice was somewhat shaky.
“I’m fine, Hawkins, really.”
He cleared his throat quickly before saying, “Mr. Christopher Livingston,”
“Who?” I muttered confusingly. What a complicated name. Looking up at Hawkins’ face, I realized he was focused on something behind me. Turning around, I followed his gaze, and my eyes connected with a very familiar pair of piercing green ones.
Oh, crap. My heart jolted around in my chest. There stood Mr. Fancy Pants and to say that he didn’t look very happy was an understatement.
In fact, he looked like he was going to murder me in cold blood.
YOU ARE READING
Mr. Stupid Rich
Teen Fiction"He was made of money, and I knew anything but that. How was I supposed to trust him when people like him cared about nothing but themselves? If they did care, the poor wouldn’t be poor, right?" Meet Ashleigh Wills, your typical high school senior t...
