Chereads / The Mundane Life of an Office Worker / Chapter 10 - ~ More Money, Less Problems ~

Chapter 10 - ~ More Money, Less Problems ~

11:00 AM | Rose Hall, University of the Indies.

"High-grade herbs weh mi smoke and grabba,

Aaahh!

Knock innah mi head like hamma,

Aaah, stuff di kochi, load up di challa!

Waaah! young smoka, nuh bada fallah,

Mek yuh stagga if yuh, hold di chalice like dada!

Mhhmm mmmhm Right ya now yea me high up deh!"

Misha twirled barefoot about her small room, a spliff dangled precariously between full pink lips as she belted out the tunes of Lala Land at the top of her lungs. Clutching the broom, she swiftly swiped it along the walls, smashing spiders and sweeping away the webs and silks that were attached to the corners and hung from the ceiling.

Dressed in a blue, white-washed batty-rider shorts and a pink polo shirt knotted above the waist showing off her navel ring; she bounced around the room, momentarily shifting furniture, sweeping dust and debris all the while gyrating her body to the distinct fast-paced, guttural sound of dancehall artiste Aidonia, that blared from the lone Bluetooth speaker perched on the computer desk adjacent to her bed.

From time to time, she would pause, and take deep drags on the spliff before she resumed her cleaning activities.

On the opposite side of the room, sitting up in bed with her back supported by artfully arranged pillows against a wooden headboard and a MacBook atop a lap desk across her lap was Rachel, her face creased in a fond smile. She watched in amusement and with veiled interest as her roommate quickly threw the broom aside to bend forward and enthusiastically gyrate her waist to the rhythm. Rachel was initially working on a paper as it was Misha's week to clean their room but, when the music got louder and the heady, musky scent of marijuana started to circulate and envelop the small space, she gave up writing: watching Misha bubble and bruk it dung was much, much more entertaining.

"Ha!"

Misha paused, arms akimbo as she pulled in several gulps of air. Breathing heavily, her mind alighted back to the large sum that she had received in her bank account the night before and she could not help dipping and gyrating to the beat once again.

"Whew! Rachel, listen to me girl." she stated firmly, "More money, less problems. MORE MONEY, LESS PROBLEMS."

"I-I don't think it works like that," she hedged.

"Buzz-buzz buzz"

"Misha, your phone a vibrate girl."

"Huff, huff, hm hmm" Misha blew a breath and responded inaudibly. She checked the phone on the desk.

It was Xavier.

She caught the preview, debated internally whether or not to respond at the moment, and decided not to.

Four months ago while she stood waiting to cross the street to go back to her dorm, a sleek, black BMW had rolled to a stop at her feet. The front windshield slid down smoothly and a handsome face emerged from the shadows.

"Hi, can you direct me to the Centre for the Creative Arts?"

She had directed him and when he ran her over with an appreciative look and asked for her number, she gave that to him as well. Xavier Matthews had phoned a day later and she agreed to meet him at the gazebo across from her dorm that coming weekend at 2 PM. She did not know him so she was not about to allow him into her space or even disrupt her schedule to make herself readily available. He voiced no displeasure - not that it would have mattered to her - and he checked in via phone and text up until that point.

On the university campus, foot traffic on a weekend is always slow, unlike during the week; the grounds are not overrun with students but there will be some going out and about. The dorms will be bustling more than ever as residents mostly clean their rooms on weekends and there are dorm activities and games planned in advance to foster networking and community among the students. There is security posted on the Halls of residence, and the different entrances on the campus; some security guards even patrolled the grounds so Misha felt relatively safe meeting him on the compound.

Saturday had rolled around and as agreed, they met up at 2 PM. He was punctual and presented himself well. In the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun, dressed in stone-colored pressed khakis, a loose, open-collared white, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of dark-brown Oxfords; he was suave, handsome, energetic, and had a lively, alert demeanor that belied his age.

"Ha, haha" she laughed as she remembered how he blushed when she complimented his shoes.

Misha knew very well that one of the best ways to know if a man has a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of is to let him talk. She had gotten him comfortable and did just that. The rule is to give short answers, divert the conversation back to him and if you are not interested, feign it. Fortunately for him, he piqued her interest. That day, they spoke for about six hours straight, conversing on a variety of topics from music, arts, and religion well into the evening. When Misha sent him off afterward with a church hug, she knew that this was someone she could potentially see a relationship with but no rush; she was not desperate. Time is what reveals a man's character. Though to be honest, it was more about his pockets than his character. Her priority right now was building meaningful connections on campus, completing her degree, and just enjoying what is left of her university life.

Rachel glanced at the subtle smile on Misha's face. Gingerly removing the lap desk, she rolled to her belly and propped herself up on her forearms, curiosity clouding her fine features.

"You copped another sucker?" she queried.

"Girl, if you don't mind yo business haha," Misha glanced at Rachel knowingly and quietly chuckled. She placed the phone on the desk and spun on her heel to retrieve the broom. Xavier wanted to see her this weekend but she had plans.

She was going home.

As if.

================================================================================================================================

Park Lane, Kingston, Jamaica.

"I should dump this nigga already," she mumbled under her breath.

Jordan shrugged into the jeans and pulled the T-Shirt over her head. Smoothing it down, she gravely stared at her reflection in the mirror as she contemplated the relationship with Kirk.

"I know why you are not leaving," she gazed into brown eyes, "We know why we are not leaving."

Knock!

Knock!

Knock!

"I need to use di bathroom Miss."

Jordan scowled.

"Coming."