Page 30 of The Player's Obsession

Unfortunately, I’m not in an alternate universe where last night’s bad deeds by my brother are a figment of my imagination. What he did can’t be forgotten, it can’t be forgiven, and it can’t be made whole. Yes, it’s a line fromThe Accountant,but sadly, it’s fitting for my situation.

I desperately need cash.

I tug a sweatshirt over my decorative long underwear pajamas and shuffle to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I can’t live without it to wake up. Maybe I just hate mornings.

Lucinda calls. I hit the coffee machine button after feeding it a pod.

“How did last night go? How was the date?” I find her enthusiasm is as fresh as fruit growing mold in a compost tin.

Even my coffee tastes bitter. The universe hates me.

“Oliver was nice, cordial, handsome.”

“I think you two have something,” she replies, waiting for more details. She’s a house cleaner, and she’s all about details.

“It was great, the food was heavenly. And I admit it was nice to get out of the apartment. But….”

“No, there is no but. You need to stick with the good stuff. Did he kiss you?” Lucinda asks.

“Yes, it was a panty-melting kiss. My ovaries were moaning.”

“Get the hell out of here. So, Oliver’s got some game.” Lucinda chuckles.

“What does that even mean?”

“I love sports. He’s filled with finesse, I assume. He has to hold the ball between his hands, and you are well endowed,” she says, leaving me to believe he wants more from me.

I choke on the lousy coffee. Maybe my mood has infiltrated the dark liquid. I grab a napkin from the table and wipe my mouth. “Are you comparing my boobs to the football?” I pour the rest of my coffee into the sink. I’d give my right arm for a great cup of coffee with flavored creamer. But it’s a drive to the coffee house in town. I find my wallet and open it. I have two dollars to my name.

“Kinda. What else happened?” Lucinda implores me for more details.

“He has impeccable table manners.” I pace in front of my living room window and look for the ratty car my brother got into yesterday. “You may need to sit down for this,” I begin, intent on telling her how the evening ended. My brother had to ruin the perfect ending to my night with his bullshit.

“What? Did you do him on the first date? That’s never a good idea.” She says this knowing that I’d never do that. My opinion is, there is never a second date if you give up the goods on the first date.

“Nope. Even better. Carlo stole my bank card and cleaned out my savings account. The bonus money I was going to use to pay off the credit cards is gone too. I was so close to freedom, and he cleaned me out.”

“No,” she screams. “You can’t be serious. Of course, you’re serious. Are you reporting it? You can get it back if you say your card was lost.”

“He knew the number I use to get cash. I’ve had it forever. They’ll have him on cameras using my personal identification number to get the money, so it doesn’t matter that he used it without my permission.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

“What are you going to do?” Her voice is bordering on hysteria. She’s the best friend ever and shares my pain.

“The timing is uncanny because Oliver offered me a business arrangement.”

“What?” Her voice is shrill. She’s now on the roller coaster with me. Yippee. I thought I had a boring life, and now I have a famous football player taking me to dinner, and my brother decides to bankrupt me. My life is too surreal. Maybe I can sell my story to Hollywood. I hear people love to binge-watch lives that are absolute trainwrecks.

“Yes. I didn’t give him an answer. Maybe a part of me knew the universe was going to fuck with me but whatever. I can get the money I need if I pretend to be his fiancée for a month.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s kind of like he’s renting me to be his fiancée, sex optional.”

“I’d tap that, oh yeah, that would be happening. His body is a mold for God to use to make more men just like him, or rather, his body. And I want one gifted to me.”

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