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I fuck rough and hard.
CHAPTER TWO
PAYTON
––––––––
Where are my damn shoes?
I spy them under the chair in my bedroom and dive for them. Then hop on one foot as I pull on the black pumps, and race across the other side of my bedroom, reaching for my purse.
I slept in.
To make things worse, today is the first day of a new job. And I need this job. Or rather, I need to keep this job.
I fell asleep without setting my alarm last night, so was blissfully dreaming about lying on the beach in the Bahamas when I suddenly bolted upright.
I don’t know what woke me, but I’m grateful.
Now I have exactly ten minutes to get to my workplace. The good news is I live in an apartment building about seven blocks from the StoryCraft offices. The bad news is my hair is still a little damp and I haven’t had any coffee yet.
I tug on my black blazer and yank my shoulder bag over my head. Then grab my tinted lip gloss off the dressing table and race out of my bedroom.
The first thing I did when I woke was push the button on my De'Longhi coffee machine, so the delicious aroma has filled my apartment. One day I’ll own a Keurig, but not until after I’ve paid my student loan.
So approximately seventy-five lifetimes.
Or so it feels.
It could be worse, I remind myself. Much worse, and it still could be. If I lose this job, my father will make me pay back half of my marketing degree (he paid the other half) and the first year of law school.
Yale Law School - I’ll let you do the math.
That was the deal.
A renegotiated deal.
