Page 44 of My Totally Unfair Deal

“Excuse me?”

“This isn’t the kind of store where people browse.”

“I’m not just browsing. If I see something I like, I’ll buy it.”

Her smile sharpens. “With what?”

“I have a black card. Want to see the limit?”

She pauses, but only to lean closer. “You can barely walk in your heels. Which means they’re either knockoffs, or the nicest thing you own to fool people who don’t know better.”

She doesn’t stop there.

“Your hair—the parts that aren’t split ends—looks like it hasn’t seen a flatiron in years. And your shirt? Jordache, right? That’s old-school Walmart. Maybe even Goodwill. Three holes in it… so vintage.”

I stare at her, stunned.

“But hey.” She tilts her head. “It’s not that Ithinkyou can’t afford what’s in here,” she says. “Iknow.”

She steps aside, and her associate is already holding the door open.

Around us, the boutique is silent. The other customers are still watching. One of them raises a phone like she’s catching the end of a scene.

I swallow hard, eyes stinging. My hands tremble as I back away—past the mannequins, past the racks, past the golden clutch I’ll never touch again.

Outside, the city air hits me like a slap. I cross the street and stop in front of the Michael Kors store, hand on the door.

I hesitate, then let it fall back to my side.

It’s not worth it…

TWENTY

HARRISON

“Maybe I was wrong to dump her, man.”

My worst client, Greg, dabs his eyes with a Kleenex as we sit in my condo’s lobby.

I’d tried to meet him somewhere else—anywhere else—but he insisted on meeting me on my home turf, so that“You can’t use the excuse of needing to drive home. You’ll already be there.”

I will never share my home address again…

“Greg, listen to me.” I keep my voice firm. “She set your car on fire.”

“I know.”

“She also set your sister’s car on fire.”

“My sister and I haven’t really gotten along in years. She’s been a bitch to me in the past, so maybe that was just karma.”

“That’s not the—” I rub my temple and decide to change direction. “Why do you miss her? Give me three reasons.”

“She was with me before I made money, before I even thought about starting my company,” he says. “All the women I’ve dated lately are gold diggers.”

“Fly to another city and meet new ones under a different name. Problem solved. What else?”

“She gave head like a damn legend.” He grins. “Otherworldly. Like, if they bottled skills and sold them on the market, hers would be a designer brand.”

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