Page 21 of Petals and Fangs

The day didn't have to end the way it did, though. And now, I am sitting in front of my laptop, reading one of the weirdest messages in my blog. The words are burning through my eyes the more I read them.

“You've got to be kidding me,” I say to myself as I re-read it, only with more focus this time.

“I believe that is not a professional answer. I am willing to triple your payment if you rewrite the response and give me a detailed answer to my question. I have a serious issue on my hands, and I can't afford to waste any time. I don't think you can be this disrespectful just because the website is public. You might be as anonymous as a ghost, but I am contacting you from an anonymous email. You have no idea who I am, and you shouldn't act like an asshole just because you are hiding behind a little alias. Do your job and be useful for once since you label yourself as a passionate matchmaker. I will not repeat myself again, and this will be the last time you hear from me in case I receive another absurd response. Here is a humble amount of money coming your way. I just need a bit of genuine advice on how to win back the heart of my ex-girlfriend. She is all I have left, and if your wise self is willing to help me further, I assure you I am a massive squander, so you will not regret dedicating some of your precious time to me."

“Who does this person think he is? And how can he possibly expect me to do my job properly if he's being this rude?” I ask myself out loud, looking around the room as if someone was listening.

This is definitely not the kind of messages I should be getting. And the money; the nerve!

“I must deal with you, you freak,” I begin replying to the message, till Arial, my best friend, calls.

“Are you home?”

“Well, hello. Yes?”

“Open the door,” Arial hurriedly says.

“Oh, thank God,” I hang up and rush to the door to let Arial in.

I don't need to deal with such a self-absorbed freak online. At least not now. Arial's presence is much needed after this chaotic day.

“What's with that look on your face?” she asks as she places a bouquet on the kitchen counter. She says it is a gift to congratulate me on my project at Rothschild Pharmaceuticals.

“Long day.”

“I bet it was, since you met Ethan Rothschild. The feared businessman.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say, shaking my head as I walk into the living room.

“How was he?” Arial asks.

Arial and I have been best friends for over five years. She knows everyone I dated, except for Ethan. For the longest I can remember, I kept Ethan as my own personal secret. No idea why. I guess I just wanted to keep him to myself.

“He was nice,” I answer her, looking away.

“Nice? Come on, give me something more. What was he like?”

“I mean, the media does not lie about him. He really is the way he appears on TV. Arrogant.”

“Arrogant?” Arial asks, her face full of questions.

“It turns out that he is not only the CEO of Rothschild Pharmaceuticals, but also the only heir to it.”

“Oh. So, he's going to inherit his father's business?”

“That has already happened,” I tell her. I don't want to get into details, because once Arial and I start talking, we never stop, and it will be a long night.

“Interesting. I heard he is quite young. He is in his late twenties, I suppose?”

“Do you want a drink? Or would you like a can of soda?” I ask as I make my way towards the fridge, completely ignoring her question. I wish she would just stop asking questions.

“A glass of wine will do,” she says as she walks over to the window, looking out.

“Shall we order some dinner?”

“I would love that,” she answers with a smile on her face.

I don't have a lot of things that make my days easier, but Arial makes everything better. And she knows how to keep the conversation going, even when there is nothing new to talk about.

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