Page 23 of Tiebreaker

“One million,” he repeats, “that's my first and final offer. One million. You give me your share of the company and leave.”

Oh.

Oh.

My brain fizzes over and I try to make sense of what he just said. My emotions are jerking me back and forth from being panicked for a minute that he was trying to solicit my, uh, attentions. But now, he's just trying to get rid of me. I’m not sure if I’m more or less offended by that than him trying to buy sex from me.

“So what, you can screw over your two friends?” I ask, not that I care deep down, but I really don’t want to see him getting whathewants. He’s a prick. And true to form, he laughs. Yep, prick.

“Don't be ridiculous. They aren't my friends and never have been. You think I associate with them? Vince is a backstreet brawler with a shitty attitude. I wouldn't even let him valet my car. My least favorite car at that. Now you take the one million and you can still have your back stipend if you really want it. But how much does your life run you anyway?” He gives me an assessing look, clearly taking in the value of my clothing, which isn't much. Everything is secondhand or thrifted. He looks like he's the kind of guy who wears a pair of underwear once and tosses it out.

“Well, why don't you think about it,” he says, “since you clearly need to write down my offer. So you can get your tiny little brain wrapped around it.”

I make a choked sound of rage and he grins at my reaction.

“What,” he murmurs, “are you that easy?”

“Easy?!” I breathe, squeakily and he bites his lower lip, his teeth chasing the blood away from the flesh.

“To get a rise out of,” he clarifies, “although you look like it’s easy to get into your panties all the same.” He leans in close, and I can smell expensive cologne. Just barely there on his skin. It's warm. And I can't help it. I inhale.

His eyes darken, pupils expanding as he sees me stumble for breath.

“That's right,” he says, “every girl loves a good roll in the sack with a rockstar. But they're not the real money. They're not the real power. It's men like me that really get women off, that make you feel good. He’s nothing like it would be with me.” I exhale and take a step back.

“Fuck off,” I say, and he raises an eyebrow. He’s quiet, doesn’t even look offended at me cursing him out.

He’s… waiting.

“I’ll think about it,” I sputter. But I won’t. I’m not selling out. 90 days. That’s it. And the payoff is going to be worth way more than what he’s offering me right now. I’m not stupid. I can split a tip-pot eight ways with a coffee crew with just a glance into the jar. I can add up what he’s planning to give me for this little deal, versus what I’ll get if I stick it out.

And yeah… my life doesn’t run me that much. But something about his arrogance is setting me off and I want tostick itto him.

He grins, tilting his head to the side, a curious look on his face.

“Which of my offers?” He asks.

“Get out,” I spit at him, pointing to the door. My blood is humming in my ears, and I can barely hear my own words over the sound of my heartbeat. He has me pissed off… and…

My thighs tighten.

He laughs and strolls towards it, kicking aside my shoes as he leaves, with a sneer.

“Get yourself an expense account on Net-A-Porte, you're gonna embarrass all of us if you walk out of this tower dressed in these rags,” he says.

I mutter a curse under my breath as he clicks the door shut, leaving me alone with the confusing, fucked up feelings in my gut.

Ten

Olivia

I…could get used to this. I sink down into the soaker bath-tub in the giant bathroom that is larger than my entire old apartment, and let the bubbles consume me. Five days I’ve been here, at the tower, after a packing service was sent to my old place, and my meagre possessions boxed up.

Toby was put into a crate that I'd never seen before and taken to my new apartment at the tower

Speaking of him, I hear him padding around in the hallway outside the bathroom, meowing to himself. This place is bigger than my old apartment by miles , obviously, and he's having a lot of fun exploring. The first thing I did as soon as I got my hands on my stipend was purchased some cat toys. I can hear the jingle of the ball, as he bats it around outside, making me smile. Some things feel vaguely normal, even if everything else has changed.

I can rest easy now, though, a sense of security descending over me in this giant building, and my stupidly nice apartment inside of it. Is this what it’s like to be a socialite with a trust fund? Not even worrying about where your groceries are going to come from and if you’re going to make rent this month.

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