Page 64 of Game Over

Tarable: I spent more than I thought I would

Tarable: put on some insane rich people necklace that doesn’t come off.

Glitched_Attraction69: how much mistress?

Tarable: $12,300.15.

Glitched_Attraction69: lol, was hoping for more kitten.

Tarable: it’s not funny, do you have it or not?

Glitched_Attraction69: give me the number for the store.

It took me a couple tries with my trembling fingers, but I finally managed to send him the correct phone number after the fourth correction.

Glitched_Attraction69: give me five minutes, kitten.

I hesitated, swallowing hard as I typed my next words.

Half the time, this was more money than I made in a fucking year.

The other half… well, it wasGlitch.

But this is what he paid me for.

Tarable: make it 2.

Glitched_Attraction69: yes, mistress.

“Still on debit?” The clerk asked, green eyes expectant.

“Um… I… no…? I think…um…”

The phone rang, and I nearly sobbed with relief.

“So sorry, miss, one moment…” She moved to pick it up, a perfectly manicured finger connecting the call. “Yes, she’s here. Yes, sir… Certainly sir… I’m ready now.” she typed quickly at her computer for some time, laughing lightly to who I could only assume was Glitch on the phone.

I kind of wanted to ask her if he sounded old, curiosity about the man who was willing to spend a used car’s worth of money on a bit of jewelry mounting to an unbearable level. But then she was hanging up, turning to offer me a little teal baggie stuffed with tissue paper over the counter as Charlie rejoined me.

“Jesse’s hoping someone will drop him off a hot meal—he tried you first, but you didn’t pick up. I told him you were buying him something sexy,” the alpha said with a little laugh. “I think he's getting a little overwhelmed. Stream is going really well.”

“You’re all settled, miss, have a lovely day.”

I took the bag in awe, grabbing Charlie's hand to tow him out of the store with a rushed thank you.

“Let’s bring him something to eat then.”

“Whoa! In such a rush to bring him some pizza?”

“No I just—fuck it was so expensive, Charlie…”

“How much?” he asked curiously. “Like five hundred?”

“God I don’t even want to tell you,” I said with a shake of my head.

I was heading for the food court, but stopped short when a familiar trill hit my ears.

Not even a mini melt down about an irremovable necklace that was worth more than an all-inclusive trip to Mexico ten times over could get me to keep moving if I heard the music from the May 1980 Amazing Spiderman pinball machine.

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