MAYA, a girl who goes through life with an unwavering smile-around other people that is. While juggling four jobs to support her father and a side hobby of modelling, Maya is rarely at home-to her content. Even through the mental and physical turmoi...
A sigh follows. "Alright... one million." The hesitance in the voice is palpable, as if struggling to afford it. Not my problem. I don't do charity.
"Name?"
"Mayella."
I roll my eyes, I hate stupid people. "Full name."
"Mayella Marie Moore."
"Timeline?"
"As soon as possible."
I hang up and head to work, texting Nisha along the way.
Ian: Meet me at work in ten.
Nish: I'm waitressing tonight.
Ian: I don't give a duck.
Nish: Duck?
Ian: Fuck you. Ian: Get your ass over here.
Nish: You're so needy.
Ian: I hate you.
Nish: I hope you crash ur fancy ass pickup truck.
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I glare at my ringing phone nestled in the cup holder.
I don't receive calls unless they're work-related.
The pain from a few days ago has subsided enough for me to lay off the painkillers, though I'm far from pain-free.
To dodge everything at home, I've been picking up shifts relentlessly—around twenty hours a day.
My routine: wake up at six, get ready by seven, juggle jobs until three, snooze for three hours, and repeat.
I don't know if Stefan told Dad about the poker night incident, so I'm staying diligent, hoping he'll forget if he does know.
Working these past days, exhausting as it is, has been a welcome distraction. Now, as my phone rings at 2:45 AM, I simply glare at it. I'm halfway home, but what if they need something? What if I'm scheduled for another shift, and I'm oblivious?
