Page 231 of Filthy Elites

Scanning what she wrote on the report, I see this is about the day Anae came in and tried to return a shirt we didn’t sell here. She called to complain, which I knew she would, but that’s why I gave her a heads-up.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Stacey,” I state.

“I know,” she says, her tone appeasing. “Don’t be upset about it, honestly. But I had to do something on paper, just to make it look like you were scolded. Her mom spends a fortune here. I can’t afford to lose her as a customer. It’s rich people problems, but we have to dance when they pull the strings, don’t we?”

She’s trying to joke around with me, but I’m pissed.

“I’m not signing this,” I say, putting the paper down and dropping the pen on top. “If I sign this, I’m acknowledging wrongdoing. I did my job. What? You wanted me to make up an amount and give her store credit just so she didn’t throw a fit? That’s crazy.”

“Welcome to life as a small business owner,” she says, throwing her lip balm into her bag and grabbing her iced coffee. “I’m not excited about it, either, but I didn’t have a choice. The customer is always right, you know?”

“No, they’re not,” I state. “Sometimes, the customer is batshit crazy.”

She cracks a smile. “That’s so true. Just sign the paper so I can file it away, okay? Then we never have to think about this again. If you don’t sign it, I’ll still file the paperwork, it just won’t have your side of the story.”

This is complete and utter bullshit, but I’m not going to pass up the chance to defend myself. I angrily jot down my explanation for not doing the return on the shirt thatwas not purchased hereand note that I was perfectly nice and even the customer behind her was shooting me sympathetic looks because of the unwarranted fit Anae was throwing.

Stacey thanks me, but I’m so annoyed, I don’t even want to talk to her. I can’t believe she’s chucking me beneath the wheels of the bus just because Anae’s mom made a call.

I don’t know why shit like this still surprises me. It’s how things work around here. A rich kid wants something, so the world bends and bows to see that they get it.

I don’t usually go on my phone while I’m at work, but being disciplined for not doing a damn thing wrong has drained me of the desire to go above and beyond tonight. Typically, I would straighten things and do what I could to put tomorrow’s opening crew ahead. Tonight, I stay behind the register, lean against the counter, and scroll through social media while the store is empty.

On impulse, I pull up Anae’s account. I don’t follow her, of course, but her stuff is public so anyone can see it. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see a picture posted from just a few minutes ago—the beach at dusk with a roaring fire and a bunch of their friends gathered around it—but I guess since Dare askedmeto come to that bonfire tonight, I took that to mean she wouldn’t be there.

I have no interest in being anyone’s side piece anyway, but it seems like you shouldn’t invite some girl you’ve decided to start paying weird attention to, to the same bonfire your girlfriend will be at.

Maybe it should be reassuring. Whatever has compelled him to start paying attention to me, maybe it’s innocent. I can’t picture that word and Chase Darington in the same sentence, but the shady thing to do would be to keep us apart.

Anae’s at the bonfire.

I wasn’t going to go, anyway, but now I’m definitely not. After getting that bullshit write-up, I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut, and I don’t need to confront her and make things even worse.

My gaze flickers to the clock. Closing time approaches, thank God.

I close the app so I don’t accidentally like anything, then I slide my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and start doing all my closing work so I can get the hell out of here and go home.

SIX

Dare

I watchthe fire flicker against the midnight sky as I empty another beer bottle and toss it at some drunk girl lying on the beach a few feet away.

Her startled gaze jumps to me.

“Grab me another one.”

She tries to sit up to go do my bidding, but before she can get to her knees, Anae walks over. “I got it.”

The girl sinks back into the sand.

Anae drops onto the beach beside me, passing me a cold beer. “Are you sulking?”

“I am not sulking,” I say shortly, grabbing the bottle and popping the cap off with my teeth.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that. You’re going to break a tooth.”

“Fuck off,” I say, but flatly and without malice.

---