Page 104 of Crazy for this Girl

“We all know you’re a stripper,” Khloe singsongs. “Good for you, hoe. We were just talking about STDs, and look, you just happened to walk in.”

Natalie comes around our small kitchen island and hovers over my phone. Placing both hands on the countertop when she snarls out, “I’m an entertainer. Don’t get mad at me because you can’t get a dick hard, Kardashian.”

“That nickname is so dumb and old, and I’m not seeing how that’s an insult. She has more money and cars than you. High IQ level too.”

“And can’t keep a man,” my roommate returns. “Just like you.”

I flick my hand in the air to get my roomie to back off my area and cell like she’s a pesky fly. “Natalie, seriously back off and go back to your room. We’re just venting.”

She doesn’t look convinced, and I’m not sure why because she’s not the one that’s carried us on rent before.

I have.

“Let me know if I need to find a new roommate,” Natalie conveys through narrowed eyes. “I’ll throw the ad in and—”

“Byeeee,” Khloe and I chime in at the same time because it normally takes us teaming up on her for her to take a hike.

Thankfully, she dips out of my space and ends up slamming her bedroom door behind her to show off how irritated she is.

“My God, she’s a bitch. Why don’t you just come live with me?”

“Because your studio apartment won’t hold my stuff and yours,” I reply with a sigh.

“I’ll make room.”

“No need. I won’t be here forever.”

Khloe scoffs. “Yeah. Your mom’s gonna have you pawned off to the richest southern bachelor in the next year if you don’t have a steady boyfriend. She texted me today, by the way.”

“What? How does she even have your number?”

“For that failure of a surprise birthday party your mom threw for you two years ago. Except it wasn’t a total failure. I still keep in touch with that hot cowboy I hooked up with.”

My lips curl into a grin. “Just because he wore a cowboy hat doesn’t mean he’s a cowboy, which he wasn’t. You’re something else.”

“I wish my mom would throw me a party with all bachelors.”

“Wanna trade?”

“Mhmm… no.” We both laugh and promise we’ll talk to the other tomorrow. I make myself a sandwich, turn on the TV to my bedroom, and get lost in some reality house renovating show.

Or I try to.

Today was a lot.

Today was a bitch.

Today was a day I never want to live again.

I stare at my Aunt Sharon, blatantly unenthusiastic that she took on way too many orders this week and clearly doesn’t have enough hands to help. The only other person besides herself is a timid little thing named Anna, who clearly can’t brush off my aunt’s sarcasm without tearing up. She’s been working for my aunt for about a month, but she’s not Wonder Woman, and she seizes up every time Aunt Sharon raises her voice.

“What, Laynee?” my aunt protests, throwing her hands up in the air as if I’m in the wrong here. “The clientele were there, and I took it.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that you need another hand?”

And that I didn’t want to spend my few days off doing this shit.

I was supposed to go to a spa and be pampered for literally once in my life as a pat on the back for doing a great job at work. Elliott has chilled out a little and even texted me to enjoy my mini vacay.

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