Page 4 of His Weekend Girl
Grant knew the amount was higher than Trixie would normally make but he was concerned about what she said earlier about driving so she could eat and not be evicted. “Okay,” he pulled out his wallet and took out a hundred-dollar bill, “here is a hundred dollars. This guarantees you’ll be back tonight. If you choose not to come, consider it a small token of my appreciation. If you do come back tonight, there’ll be a lot more for you to make.” He handed the bill to Trixie. “The event should be over around ten. I hope to see you then.”
Trixie stared down at the hundred-dollar bill. It’d been so long since she’d had money in her hand and not immediately deposited in her account. The money was often gone before she could even spend it on something fun.
And there was more to make? How much more? And would she have to do some unscrupulous shit to get it? She needed to swallow her pride. If he was willing to pay, she was willing to play. “You got it.”
CHAPTER THREE
TRIXIE QUICKLY REALIZED how much she didn’t like to carry large bills. Well, no, that’s not exactly the truth; she didn’t like carryingthatlarge bill.
As she walked down the grocery store aisles, she kept patting the outside of her jeans pocket to see if the money was still there. It was hidden in a corner of her jeans, a place where she was the only one who knew.
She was never that paranoid, but L.A. had become drastically different over the years. Follow-home robberies were common. So, Trixie made sure she looked something above homeless every time she left the house. She left her necklaces and semi-nice jewelry at home.
Trixie never flashed anything expensive. And if she had something nice, she only took it out for special occasions. And since Trixie drove for a living, there was nothing that nice about what she did.
Sure, she had the freedom to create her schedule. She could work in Los Angeles or she could work in San Diego. She could work only mornings or afternoons and evenings. She wouldn’t have to be stuck behind a desk if she didn’t want to.
Of course, there was the uncertainty of having a bad day. No orders. Rude customers. People tip-baiting.
She’d gotten used to making the bare minimum and only being able to afford the bare minimum. Food that she couldget a few meals out of like spaghetti, chili, and chicken wings. Cheap food that wasn’t healthy like the packaged ramen, but she could fix it up with some spices and veggies. And if Trixie had a good day, maybe she could afford her favorite cocktail canned beverage.
Despite the generous help from Grant, Trixie still felt like she could only afford so much. She couldn’t figuratively buy out the store, but she knew she could at least afford 10 ramen packages instead of three.
Girl, you’re being slightly ridiculous right now, Trixie thought.
Maybe she wasn’t. A few years ago, she was on top of the world, being a graphic designer for one of the top companies in the world. $30 lunches were the norm for her. She got her hair and nails done on a semi-weekly basis. She had the best outfits and didn’t even have to go designer for them. She loved a great deal at Target. She currently wore a fit from there.
Then, she got laid off. She had some money saved up, so she was prepared to coast for a bit before she got back on her feet. Next, the pandemic happened. Everyone else was in the same position she was.
No one was hiring and people became desperate. She started to do delivery jobs as a way to get out of the house. She made great money and even sometimes, she made more in one week than she did being a graphic designer for a month.
But then as everything opened back up, jobs were scarce. She went from competing with maybe, ten other people, to knowing she was competing with a few hundred for the same underpaid position. The callbacks for those positions were even less. She’d received one.
So, Trixie was stuck being a rideshare and delivery driver until she got something, anything. Sure, she’ll miss the freedom of creating her schedule. She’ll miss blasting Mariah Carey andTaylor Swift, singing off-key but it didn’t matter because her windows were rolled up.
However, Trixie wouldn’t miss the exhaustion of long days. She won’t miss being chained to her car. She won’t miss waiting for an order, only for it to be underpaid. And she damn sure won’t miss between choosing what was more important – paying a bill or eating.
And for that, Trixie was definitely going to get 12 ramen packs.
~~~~~
It didn’t help that the highlight of Grant’s evening was already the conversation he had with Trixie.
As he strolled through the ballroom, Grant had about enough. He had endured enough handshakes, bro hugs, and hand kisses his lips could bear. The $35,000-a-plate annual fundraiser was already grating his nerves.
For starters, he couldn’t believe he paid that much for food that may not even be digestible. When did it become fashionable to serve as little food as possible on big plates? Were they at preschool?
Secondly, it was a fundraiser that screamed White Savior complex. It aimed to help underprivileged children in Africa. When he was a child, he thought how awesome because he was so naïve. As he grew older, Grant saw that most people thought Africa was what National Geographic showed. They didn’t know it was a land of rich nations and cultures. Google and the rest of the internet still didn’t stop the fundraiser.
And, Grant hated everyone’s pretentiousness and fakeness. Women who talked shit about each other at every chance, suddenly were air-kissing and complimenting each other’s looks.
Grant had overheard many talks between his mother and aunts. He knew that once the parties got back in their cars, the venom poured out and stayed open for days.
Grant could handle the women; it was the men who he really couldn’t stand. They would pretend to be your pal and buddy as they plotted your downfall. If they heard one of your businesses wasn’t doing well, they would offer advice; pretending to be helpful. Only when there was no choice but to shut the business down would someone realize their friend was to blame.
It was why Grant only made special guest appearances but was never a star in anyone’s drama. He knew firsthand what it was like to have everything at his fingertips and have it stolen from him. It was even worse when it was family.
“Grant,” one of his friends, Ian Ferguson, greeted him with a smile and a bro hug. He was one of the few people Grant had trusted because they had grown up together and went through similar heartbreak.
