Page 17 of Rich Girl
“I’ll have to wear a shirt that proclaims me as a pussy,” he informs me in the driest tone. For a moment, I can’t tell if he’s serious about this.
“You must be joking.”
In contrast, my voice comes out offended-like and on the snobbish side. Ray picks up on that because he remains quietfor a fraction of a second, making me feel like I messed this up before anything came out of it.
“They are a bit rowdy. But they don’t mean any harm.”
I let out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t seem to be offended by my tone. But I’ve never been in an environment where people used crude language like that. In fact, in my world, people go out of their way to be prim and proper.
Chase Hawthorne was not so prim and proper when he was screwing the maid in the cleaning closet, a small voice in my head reminds me. Yeah, I’d prefer someone who was unguarded with their language than with their body. I want to slap myself for ever thinking that I could overlook Chase’s indiscretion.
“They sound like… fun,” is all I can think of saying. My friends and I would be clutching our literal pearls if we were in that type of company, but that’s besides the point.
“How about you tell me about yourself now, Hayden?”
There’s a shift in the air when he says that. I have a feeling he is not as interested as he was when he first called. I try to make myself sound cheery and like I didn’t catch on to it.
“I’m twenty-five,” I start. “Just turned.”
I have no idea why it is important for me to say that. Jeanine got into my head with her comments from earlier. Now I feel like I am ancient.
“Nice. And what do you do for a living?”
My mouth goes dry and my mind goes blank. I didn’t expect for him to ask me that. Nobody ever does. I am not prepared to answer it. I’ve never felt self-conscious for not having a job until this very second.
“Uh, I am in between jobs right now,” I struggle to say.
“Ah okay, nothing to be embarrassed about,” Ray assures me. “It happens more than you think.”
Not to me, it doesn’t, but I don’t say it out loud. It sounds like he is a regular person with a regular job. I doubt he would understand that I’ve never had a job in my entire life.
His next question really throws me into a tailspin of confusion and panic.
“What do you do when you’re not in between jobs?”
I look around, like I am expecting my living room to advise me on what I should say, or lie about, more like.
“Flowers,” I say with conviction when my eyes fall on the flower arrangement artfully placed on a decorative table against the wall.
“Really?”
I don’t like the excitement with which he says that one word. Nothing good can come out of this.
“I have a friend whose girlfriend owns a flower shop.”
But of course he does.
“And she’s looking for help as we speak,” he continues, unaware of the instant headache this conversation is giving me. “The one lady she has there is retiring. And going on a cruise.”
“Wow, lucky her,” I mutter into the speaker, wishing I was on a cruise right now.
“I’ll talk to Evie and send you the details.” It’s like he’s purposely trying to hurt me.
I’m not sure what I thought would come out of me pursuing this guy, but him offering to get me a job in a flower shop was not it.
“T-thank you, Ray,” I manage to say through the shock. “That is very kind of you.”
“Happy to help.”
