Hey love ,
Thank you for checking out my book also thank you for the support for those who have added it , please let me know what you think about it , that would really help ,, and if you start reading and you feel like quitting on the way , please before you quit , at least let me know your thoughts.... I mean , what turned you off... Thank you in advance 🤍🤍
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Have you ever been in a position of wondering why you should get a job when your parents have uncountable riches , and your siblings the same? I mean, it's unreasonable to work when you can get anything you want whenever you want. I don't get why my family would ask me to get a job , especially when they all transfer money in my account at each and every end of the month!
So I've been stubborn about getting a job even if my parents insisted, dad would force me to go to interviews, but I would just go talk nonsense,or go late so that they refuse to interview me, or sometimes I don't even go .
One of the major reason why am being stubborn about getting a job is because I don't want to wake up early everyday just to go and have a headache the whole day , come back home drained , sleep for some few hours and wake up again , go to work!!
Man, it sickens me just by thinking about it!
Reason number two is that... I had money , unfortunately, not anymore because apparently, they stopped feeding my account!
Dad asked everyone to stop putting any money in my account , he was like "Let's see how long you will keep being stubborn about getting that job when you don't have money!"
As I write now , I am as stressed as never before because, never in my life have I ever bother myself about anything, even at school I never really did anything constructive ,
In highschool and college I never touched a book in the name of studying , even sometimes In highschool, maybe in detention when I was forced to sit with a book , I would just stare at it and not read even a single word!
I spent my time flirting with girls , going out with them and buying drinks , partying every night and sleep around! I mean, we only live once , and life is short , so why strain ourselves, enjoy every chance you get , am shameless I know , that's my reputation in highschool and college because I slept with almost every girl, even other people's girlfriends .
But I can't be blamed, they threw themselves at me mainly because I was rich. I would like to say that am hot but I wouldn't really like to say they threw themselves at me because am hot but I wouldn't describe myself like that. Mostly, people who are described as hot usually have abs_muscles , they are tall to some point , and cool.
But am non of those , though one thing is for sure , I look extremely good especially my face , but not hot. , or maybe am hot in my own ways.
●●●Anyway ,about the job, I have no more choice , so am going to an interview today and for once am going to take it serious, but before I go, there are somethings I'll need to have with me everyday, at least with them , I'll feel energized even when life gives me shit in that company.
I enter the supermarket skating, and
after picking a packet of passion flavoured lollipops,
I glide on my skateboard through the aisles of the supermarket, wheels buzzing underneath me as I zigzag past shelves of cereal, cans of soup, and the occasional annoyed shopper who gives me that "you're too old for this" look.
Whatever. I've got my eyes on the prize: my favorite spot on Aisle 6, where they stash the passion fruit juice.
There's something almost sacred about that little space. Like, it's practically mine, as if the universe knows there's only one thing I ever come here for. The passion juice.
I round the corner, knees bent, leaning into the speed, heart already celebrating, but then_bam. Right there in front of me, the last bottle of passion fruit juice. And there's a hand on it. Not just any hand—it's one of those hands with that effortless, powerful grip, and on the wrist is this watch that screams "I own buildings and a personal jet."
I look up. The guy has sharp, chiseled features, like he was carved out of granite or something. He's wearing this pressed suit that screams the same thing , and he has this air about him, like he never has to wait in line or ask for anything twice.
But here's the thing: my fingers are also on that bottle. I was a second too late, maybe, but still—I'm here. And I am not letting go. No way. Not when am going to have a rough day.
He raises an eyebrow, looking down at me with this unreadable expression. But I just grip the bottle harder, holding my ground. I don't care if he was here first or if he's got the whole "billionare who could probably buy this entire store" vibe going on. This juice, this is my routine. It's the highlight of my week.
"Are you serious?" he says in this low, smooth voice, looking at me like I'm an alien.
I just shrug, smirking a little, refusing to budge. "What? First come, first served, right?"
He tilts his head, that cool, serious face of his staying all calm, but I can see it in his eyes—he's trying to size me up, maybe wondering if I'm crazy enough to hold on. And guess what? I am.
"Right , first come , first serve ," he agrees , obviously meaning that I should let go because he was obviously the first one here.
I look up at him , trying to sound serious as I say , "Look man , am a busy man and I have less than fifteen minutes to get to some serious business, so if you don't mind , can we meet up and play later." Am sure no one would take me and what I've just said serious, but am honestly running late , I can't be late this time , I spent almost all night practising because this time I seriously want a job.
Time to f*ck around has ended !
"I actually don't expect a gentle man like you to be fighting with a poor kid like me over a bottle of a passion fruit juice, man don't you have some business to run?" I say wanting to annoy him so that he lets go. And just for the record, I honestly think he is a gentle man and he should have already let go.
He shots me a death glare without saying anything. He doesn't really think that am gonna leave it for him, does he? I hope not.
Suddenly an idea pops into my mind, and I grin to myself. I take a step backward, adjusting my balance like a stuntman about to take a fall, and then—bam!—I drop to the floor like I've just been struck by lightning.
"Ow! Ow!" I clutch my knee, wincing like I'm in some serious pain. "Oh man, my leg… I think it's broken," I groan, loud enough for half the store to hear. "Hey , why weren't looking where you are going." I say looking at him.
People start gathering around, curious heads popping into the aisle. I can hear the worried murmurs of a few shoppers.
"Oh my goodness!" a lady with a big red purse gasps, leaning over me with wide, concerned eyes. "Did he hit you, honey?"
I give a tiny, pathetic nod. "He has bumped into me strongly, I… I think he didn't see me. I was just walking, minding my own business, and he… he just bumped right into me." I glance over at Mr. Fancy Suit, who is looking completely bewildered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
"Sir, did you bump into this poor child?" a grandpa in a checkered shirt demands, his voice sharp. He's looking at the him like he's some kind of criminal.
"Unbelievable!" He hisses adjusting his glasses, he looks like he wants to struggle me.
"I… I might need to go to the hospital," I say, with a little sniffle thrown in for good measure. "I think it's going to be really expensive… and I don't… I don't have any money." I say.
The crowd is getting bigger, people whispering and looking at him with suspicion, like he's some kind of big bad wolf who hurt an innocent little lamb—me.
"Sir, the least you can do is help him out," another lady says, crossing her arms.
He looks trapped, glancing from me to the crowd and back again, as if he's trying to figure out how to get out of this mess.
"Uh… of course, of course," he says, finally pulling out his wallet. I can literally see his face burning up in anger .
With a careful look of pain plastered on my face, I stretch out my hand and takes the notes he is handing to me.
When he is about to leave with the juice , I hold his leg . " I might feel better when I drink that, actually it's what I had come for.. ouch! My leg..." Without saying a word, he unfolds his fingers and the bottle drops down on me , hitting my nose. What a freak! That hurts for real now , when I touch my nose , there's blood!
I stand up pretending to be in unbearable pain but I refuse help from anyone. They look at me suspiciously when I stand up on my own.
" Uh.. I actually, it's not my leg that's broken , it's my nose , see ? I should see a doctor soon!"
I say skating away.