Hot Flashes (Lesbian Mafia Romance) girlxintersex

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Clementine POV

The day moved too slowly for my comfort, as I had to restart teaching the class with a broken heart, damp underwear, and cloudy brain. I took a long breath to show that I had completed the day. Nothing like glancing around my cramped, cluttered, and unattractive one-bedroom flat. It was the cheapest I could find on the internet after passing the online job interview for the teaching post at the school.

Three hundred bucks a month, yet my thoughts painted a well-kept and pleasant bedroom rather than one with ruined walls due to mildew and cracks. The smell of sewage from the exposed sewers halted my deep inhalation.

I moaned, fatigued, recognizing that I'd have to turn back and pay a quick visit to my landlord. I've known my landlord for a little more than a month; I relocated in the summer to get established in and to attempt to get an extra job to pay for food, but I was struck by bad luck and have had to subsist on cheap spaghetti and meat until now.

I placed my bag on the thrift sofa and the papers on the weak table, which groaned even when I laid a cup of coffee on it. The flat had some furniture, but everything was either ancient or worn to nothing. I made a sharp turn and had to fight the steps going down.

I didn't merely wind myself in the enormous town of Clover Leaf, Florida. Oh no, I was happy in town; I called home Summer Field, but when my parents died before paying off the property, I was left jumping on my boyfriend back. He lives in a store garage where he repairs cars, if only he would fix them. He'd rather take their money. Yes, I was in love with a redneck with a nasty attitude and tattoos covering his face and feet. As I previously mentioned, my pussy and I do not always agree.

When we broke up, he gave me two weeks to get the fuck out, and I knew Summer Field was no longer my home. I saw an opportunity, and I was weary of my mother fantasizing about me and lamenting about how much time I was spending.

Great work, mom, and crappy guy, since now I'm in town with a Mafia leader or whatever the fuck she was.

I had to step out of the flat and to the next apartment, where my landlord resides. She's an elderly lady with a fondness for flowers and cigarettes. I'll say, they don't go together, but it was what rock her boat. I pounded on her door like a tax collector.

"Hey, Ms. Peachy!" I called, as nicely as I could, to cancel my alarming knock on her door.

"Coming!" Her 1000 years of smoking cigarettes voice shouted. I often wonder whether if she died, we would all inherit the apartment, and wow, wouldn't that be wonderful. I wanted to have a place to call home. Where I could lay my head, but now that I see how this town was ruled by a Mafia rather than a mayor, I shall pack my bags in the future.

"What?" She questioned, followed by a cough, which astonished me because it was followed by her being taken away from the source of her cough and cranky attitude.

"Hi." I greeted cordially. There's always a part of me that like a grouchy old woman who enjoys smokes and plants. She offered me a cupcake once. I shivered, remembering that it was edible. All night, I laughed, sobbed, and laughed again.

"What is it that you want?"

"Well, drainage." I replied, not knowing what else to say. The apartment was run-down, but it was inexpensive, and I wouldn't be out in the cold at night, which was certainly a good thing, but paying $300 to smell trash was a no-go for me.

"What do you want me to do about this?" The smoke masked her tone as she blew it disrespectfully in my face, and I didn't have time to brush it away since the wind swept it away. One reason to like the wind.

"Fix it, Ms. Peachy." I gave a nice grin.

"I cannot. You notice how elderly and wobbly my hands are."

"The repair guy."

Her lips pushed out, dispersing another puff of cancer into my lungs; this time, I wasn't as fortunate, and I was left coughing.

"Mother fucker, quit." The smoke rose up from her pearl white hair. Ms. Peachy was around 80 years old, yet she behaved like a mobster; the woman had no Christian bones in her.

The grannies seemed to vary with time. I remembered my grandmother forcing me to go to church.

"Will another one fill his position?"

"I don't know, girl. Do you wish to fill his position?" She inquired harshly.

I sighed, becoming angry for the umpteenth time that day. "Fine, Ms. Peachy, I hope you—" She slammed the door in my face before I could continue what I was saying. My lips curled, and I couldn't help but give a growl.

I was back in the heart of the nasty stench, where I would have to mark the quiz. I offered a quiz to all three classes so that I could distinguish between slow and quick learners.

I'd then divide them up in class and focus on teaching them separately. I'd better receive a decent slice of pie for my pay.

My prior teaching job normally paid me approximately ten thousand dollars, but with needing to spend on my constantly broke lover, I didn't have a cent to save. Now that I've looked around, I won't have to pay for anybody else's life, only mine.

I put my feet on the rubbed-down couch arms, which were black and grimy from having too many arms or feet like mine on them. These furniture were hurting, and I was going to suffer alongside them.

As I picked up my handbag and proceeded to pull out the papers, my gaze fell on her checkbook. I neglected to leave it with Mr. Collins. I grabbed for the rectangular book and browsed through it, only to find a few pages autographed.

"Woah!" I muttered in a startled tone. "You had to be fucking kidding me." Despite the fact that I was completely confined in, I peered about. As it suddenly seemed like someone was watching me, I looked through something that clearly wasn't mine. It was as if God had placed this book in my fucking hand, since I was gazing at not only the money, but also her whole contact information, which was located at the left top of the rectangle paper.

"I should keep my mouth shut, right?" What if I just tore out one of these pages, and she went around displaying her check wherever she went? No, you are not a thief. However, this was a blessing from God. I started jotting down her details. Afterwards, I scanned through the book, hoping to locate a little amount of money to take, but all I saw were hundreds of thousands of dollars. Was she just randomly acting as a money Santa, offering folks money for keeping their mouths shut?

If I only had half of this, my life would be set for months, and many people would have expected me to yield and accept the money. But there was other way to take the money—steal it.

I suppose it was my new occupation, in addition to the one I was already performing.

I went through the book again; there were only a few pages left, so I couldn't rip from the middle or the back, leaving me with little alternative but to rip from the front.

What will clementine do?

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