Page 4 of Sinful Secrets

Tears form in my eyes before falling down my cheeks. I feel hollow, like nothing matters anymore. This is my dream, and it’s being ripped from me.

After several minutes, my tears subside as a tiny ember burns in my heart.

There has to be a way I can come up with tuition. Maybe I can start a fundraiser or sell some of my designs.

Either way, if I want to start an empire, I need to learn to overcome obstacles.

I start my car and turn the air conditioner on as I grab my bottle of water. I might as well take my time eating lunch and skip class.

What’s the point of going to class if I get kicked out because I can’t come up with the money?

I’ve always done the right thing and consider myself a good person. I donate to charity when I have the space cash. I volunteer at soup kitchens during the holidays. I spend weekends at the nursing homes, spending time with the elderly. And even read to children at the library.

So why is this happening to me?

I scarf down my sandwich and keep the chips for later. Needing a mood boost, I back out of my parking spot and drive toward the museum.

A car honks his horn behind me as I’m leaving the campus. He continues to honk as he cuts me off. I have to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting him, causing the car behind me to bump into my car.

I pull over into a side parking lot, but the student behind me flees.

Just fucking great.

After parking, I get out and look at the back bumper. There is a little damage, and I’ll have to get someone to pop the dent out, but it could have been a lot worse.

Bad things always happen in threes.

First, my scholarship is rescinded. Second, someone rear ends me.

What’s next?

I get to the museum with no other issues and park in my normal parking spot. No one ever comes here unless there is a new art show or fundraiser.

I wave to the security guy, Alvin, who is eating a doughnut and drinking his normal everyday caramel latte. “I see you’re hard at work.”

He narrows his eyebrows at me. “I see you’re not in class. What’s going on?”

I’ve known him for the past three years. He knows me better than my own father does.

“I need to get a job. Do you know anyone hiring that pays amazing and will work with my class schedule?”

He thinks for a moment before saying, “My daughter is an ice girl for the local hockey team and can probably get you a job at the arena.”

That would be a fun and interesting job.

“Will they work with my schedule?”

He chuckles. “Most of the games are at night and on the weekends, so you won’t be in class, and most of the girls are also in college, so they usually schedule practice during off times.”

“That would be great.”

It won’t be nearly enough money, but it will be a steady job if I can’t complete this year.

“I’ll call my daughter and find you inside.”

“Thank you, Alvin. Even if she can’t get me a job, I still appreciate you trying.”

I turn away from him and head towards the steps to the main doors of the art museum. Missing the top step, I fall back and slam into the sidewalk, landing on my ass. That doesn’t hurt as much as the throbbing pain radiating through my ankle.

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