Elite Fraud

Chapter 1: Gimme a Ride to Heaven

He says the words in a matter-of-fact voice, meaning no offense. Yet, surprisingly, I am offended. Really offended. By the end of his little speech, my arms are crossed and my fingers are digging into the fleshy part of my upper arm.

Rich, privileged people will take every chance they get to look down on people they deemed beneath them. I feel the beginning of an anger I have tried so hard to contain swelling in the center of my chest. Like an ugly animal threatening to explode and tear his expensive suit.

Remembering my trainer's words, I inhale deeply through my nose and try to organize my thoughts. He is a rich man with no time to waste. He would not seat me here and list all my struggles in life without an objective worth his time.

"And how does this concern you, Mr. Roman?"

"I can help you."

All traces of anger disappear, replaced by confusion. Maybe he is here to simply waste his time.

"I'm willing to offer you a place in my son's school with all the tuition fees pre-paid. The Wetherton High School is a notable private school, I'm sure you've heard of it. It will give you a different future that will help you and your family—one would never have dreamed of." He talks like he was offering me a job promotion, like this would cost him no more than the blink of an eye.

My lips part in disbelief, running his words over and over again in my head. I play with the necklace around my neck and looked for the joke in his words but realized there is none.

Just like him, I am a keen observer. His eyes are watching my every move; he wants me to accept it and he knows he has piqued my interest. He doesn't realize how much this can affect my life, and the different futures I could have flashed before my eyes. A better school, better life, better university, better job. All the things that fell out of my mother's reach.

But just as fast, the hope that has ignited in me is washed away with cold realization. People like him rarely have pure intentions. There is always a scheme playing for them, something that would benefit them in the long run.

"What's in it for you?"

His lips curl with mirth. "You are as smart as I expected," he mutters, placing his chin on a closed fist. "Do my intentions matter? When you can benefit so much from this?"

"Nothing comes easy, Mr. Roman."

The blood-red gemstone that rests between my collarbones burned, reminding me of Marli and her dad. We had found the pair of expensive stones in an alley, forgotten and abandoned. With a thick piece of thread, Marli made them into matching necklaces for us to wear. I never take it off.

He nods and takes a sip from the coffee that has now gone cold. "You're right, you're right. Well, there's no point beating around the bush, now is there?" He doesn't wait for me to answer, the glint in his eyes gone. "Recently, the tabloids have been spewing all kinds of nonsense about my work ethics, trying to bring my reputation down. And I don't plan on letting that happen. The offer I extend to you will help you as much as it will help me."

My mind flashes back to the tabloid headlines about his shady company and the picture finally becomes clearer, pieces of the puzzle falling into place. Another day where rich people use the poor to their advantage, I think with disgust.

But another part of me leans to the offer. I feel shameful as I think about it and can't help but hear my father's cold voice. If life gives you lemons, make lemonade, you stupid girl. I push the thought away and gather as much spite as I can in my voice.

"You want to use me as some sort of political pawn? A charity case to make you look good? 'David Roman pays to get the poor girl from Harlem into school,'" I scoff.

He doesn't look offended as I rant. Instead, it seems like he expected my reaction. He opens his mouth, probably to try to convince me again, when the bell rings and someone walks in. I don't lift my gaze from the man in front of me until I realize that the customer is heading towards our table.

"Dad, what's taking you so-"

I look up to the owner of the annoyed voice. A tall, lean boy that looks to be my age stands with his arms crossed. He shares the same winter gray eyes and chiseled face as the man in front of me. David junior.

"Who's this?" He eyes my uniform.

David leaves a few bills on the table before standing up to smooth wrinkles out of his suit. He looks to be an inch taller than his son.

"You'll know soon enough, son," the businessman replies with a finalizing tone, clasping his son's shoulder.

"Don't count on it," I spit as I stand up as well, crossing my arms to mirror his son. A surprised look flicker on David Junior's face.

"Sage, see it as you will. At the end of the day, this opportunity won't come knocking at your door twice," he sighs , looking at his watch. "I've got to go now, but think about it. I will give you time. Tomorrow, I expect a reply from you."

With a final nod, David steers his son away and they leave the store. An after-scent of expensive cologne trails their path where they once stood. His words replay in my head as I watch the sleek, black car drive away into the bustling streets of Harlem.

This opportunity won't come knocking at your door twice.

Someone nudges my shoulder, and I turn my gaze to a pair of tired eyes belonging to Rin. They are as bright as seafoam, reminding me of her brother's, and I feel the familiar pang of sadness I often get when he crosses my mind. I wonder what he'd have to say about this. Probably something along the lines of a fist and a bloody nose.

"I won't ask what that was about, but you better get your ass in the kitchen and make up for it," she jerks her head to the back of the café. Her words are scolding but her tone kind. I nod with a tight-lipped smile and push away all thoughts of the troublesome conversation I just had. The time for dwelling over it would come. Marli needs to know about this. Now, I do as she says.