Page 4 of The Tsar's Obsession
I definitely gave a damn before. But after I turned twenty-eight in June, my energy whittled, and my outlook changed. The rat race was exhausting,and for the first time, I didn’t want to be the high achiever and the helper. I didn’t want to win anymore.
"Hey, what are you doing Labor Day weekend?" Ari’s eyes scanned my body without shame as we stood in the kitchen. I picked the lint off my ivory summer dress like it was the most important job in the world and avoided looking into his big, hopeful eyes.
"Actually, Viv booked us all a short trip to the Bahamas." I brushed him off and dragged my best friend into the mix, wanting to just change the subject. I wondered what Viv was up to. No doubt brunching with some high-rolling fuckboy.
Vivian Li had been my best friend since high school drama class. She was a firecracker, and I imagined her with a mimosa in hand, spending a ton of money at some designer boutique or an upscale restaurant, enjoying all the finer things in life. She loved to spend money on herself—even better if it wasn’t hers. With her jet-black hair and size zero waistline, she strutted around New York in her high heels and designer clothes like a model on the runway.
That girl was all about zeros. Zero-size waistline, zeroes at the end of the digits in her bank account, zero filter, zero fucks given. Except her downfall was chasing after rich, big dick, questionable men. But she never got her heart broken. She was the one doing all the shattering. Which was why it wasn’t surprising that she was the one who booked the trip and picked the hotel—to make sure we were in prime rich-and-questionable-men territory.
“Do you think...” I heard Ari’s voice again, about to beg him to shut up, “you can come to that sales event with me? Tomorrow evening?”
The sunlight blasted into the living room decked out in expensive furniture, and the air conditioning was on, but I was suffocating, my chest constrained. Was I having an anxiety attack? I desperately needed to take some time off.
This open house was a huge waste of time, and I knew that. I should have stayed home. Everyone who walked through thedoor already had broker representation. We arranged it to butter up a bunch of agents and give them the day off while we entertained their clients.
“Mia?” I heard Ari’s voice again. His raven-colored hair flashed in my peripheral vision, and his golden chain with a symbol of a menorah reflected the afternoon sun. “Tomorrow evening? Let’s make some sales.”
Ari was any New York girl's wet dream. Rich, good family, smart, funny, well-dressed, cutthroat sales guy—you name it, he had it all. Yes, any New York girl's dream. Except mine. I didn’t want him.
I didn’t want anyone. One heartbreak can build cement walls. Tall walls with impenetrable armor. While Viv lived her life to the fullest and allowed others to pleasure her, I kept guarded and closed off. It was better that way anyway.
But Ari really wanted me. He was persistent; I’d give him that.
“I’m not sure about tomorrow. I kinda want the evening off.” I responded with the most non-committal comment I could muster under the circumstances, but I knew my efforts were weak at best. I was just so damn drained and tired.
What was this lifestyle? What was Ireallycontributing to the world? To myself? To others?
Fuck. I needed a new job or a new life orsomething. I was having an existential crisis right there in the living room of this opulent condo fit for a prince when the front door opened and a new group filed in.
What a dream, touring luxury properties and making deals that earn me high commissions, right? A real estate broker in New York; they made reality TV shows about people like me.
But I didn’t want to bethisme anymore. I didn’t want the money and the phone attached to me day and night. Reluctantly, at some point I began to admit to myself that I just wanted more in life. No, I craved it. I wanted passion, I wanted adventure, and I wanted something that felt real.
The money in my bank account accumulated, but nothing brought me genuine joy. Everything felt like a simulation, like thematrix. My job earned me an astounding salary but hollowed me out like a Halloween pumpkin. What was I going to do with the money? Take it to the grave?
This summer I finally conceded that my work shackled me and the lifestyle sucked the soul out of me. I dressed in designer clothes and accessorized with expensive purses to match the image that was expected of me. Yet, I would’ve much rather run barefoot on the grass and stored all my possessions in the pockets of a linen dress.
I had to play the part, though. I was in this, and it would be impossible to shut it all down and break away. There was no way out, so I escaped by working long hours and watched the money in my bank account pile up.
The predictability was eating me alive.
"You guys need a personal sunscreen guru?" Ari ripped me out of my dark thoughts once more as I stared out the window. What was he on about now? “For the Bahamas trip, I mean. Labor Day weekend?” He fumbled with his words, but I wasn’t surprised to hear his proposition.
"Excuse me?" A woman’s voice sounded behind us, and we both whipped around to see a tall, beautiful woman with ginger hair standing with a cold but expectant glare. I didn’t even see her come in, but Ari immediately perked up at the sight of her and led her away, not even letting me get a word out.
For the best.
I discreetly withdrew my phone and typed away while my heart and soul threatened to climb into a grave on this suffocating August afternoon.
Mia: What time are we leaving for the beach?
Viv repliedwithin an instant.
Viv:1pm. Get your skanky bikinis ready. Better yet, go topless, maybe your tits can get some action since you can't.
My eye roll was a knee-jerk reaction at this point since Viv's dedication to hooking me up with a man—anyman—had become her recent hobby. I snickered at her response and continued typing, immersed in fantasies of getting out of here.
Mia: Please stop trying to set me up with random dick.
