I forced her to text me her address of her new apartment she will be moving to in a few weeks. We made a promise that this wouldn’t be the last time we saw each other. No matter if I made something of myself in school, or she made enough money hooking and bought a car and rode off into the sunset, we would be friends. We would stay in touch.
We hugged before she left. I wiped a tear before she could notice. I looked at her coldly, “I know you’re strong-willed, but don’t do the whole drug thing when I’m gone, please. It’s easy to get into in your... business.” She just smiled reassuringly. She was my only friend who wasn’t into drugs. Most girls probably put themselves on the street to pay for their addictive habits, Candice was doing it to elevate herself out of this shithole. Though I didn’t like what she did with her body, I knew someday she would succeed in getting the hell out of here for good.
I looked at her with a smile right before she left. “And when you do leave this dump of a city, Autumn Darling dies with it, Candice.” She laughed and agreed.
∞∞∞
I spend the rest of the night packing what little belongings I have into my duffle bag and slump into the mattress. Tomorrow could not come fast enough. I google some more about Arthur Cain. He’s a handsome man for his age. You could tell he’s filthy rich with just a glance at a magazine cover I saw online. He was wearing a pinstriped suit with his dark hair slicked back, posing in a crimson leather chair, puffing on a long cigar. In case anybody couldn’t tell he was financially loaded, the caption above it read, Interview with a Billionaire. I wanted to read the article, but a paid subscription was required.
I look through several pages of pictures and articles about him. The man had done some good in his community, that’s for sure. One example was a large donation that he made to a hospital to build a children’s cancer ward.
I wondered what I would be like if I had so much money. The obvious answer is to travel the world, and buy a bunch of unnecessary shit, but then I would hope to be like Mr. Cain.
His charity work didn’t go with the oil tycoon persona he had with his business life. He seemed like a caring man. I was eager to meet him.
Then I found an article that made my jaw drop. “Billionaire businessman’s wife dead in a motor vehicle accident.” Another paid subscription magazine that prevented me from reading more besides the title. If I’d had a dollar left in my pocket, I would have paid to read it.
The next article I opened had my jaw drop again, but this time for a different reason. “Lance Cain, son of billionaire Arthur Cain, arrested for DUI.” It wasn’t so much the title of the article. I have heard the stereotype that rich people can raise shit kids who think they can get away with anything. The picture of Lance Cain blew me away. I don’t think I had ever seen someone my age that was so- sexy. I read some of the article, shaking my head at how aggressively careless this Lance Cain was. He was caught driving fifty miles over the speed limit on a highway, with a female passenger who wasn’t named.
The article even had his mug shot in it from when he was arrested. His father was good looking for his age, but I imagined if you put Arthur Cain in a time machine he would look just like his son. Lance Cain wore dishevelled fancy clothes and a shit-eating grin in the mug shot, which turned me off immediately. Another rich kid who has no clue what it’s like to be in the real world. His dad probably somehow got him off any charges or fines.
I looked at the date of the article and realized it was somewhat close to the one that talked about Arthur Cain’s wife being killed in a car accident. I immediately felt shame for thinking so negatively. His mom had just passed away, was he not allowed some compassion when he did something stupid right after?
Here I was, both of my parents recently dead, wanting to get away from my life as soon as possible, and I’m judging Lance Cain? If it weren’t for Ted Silvers’ random knock on my door this morning, I probably could have done something worse than Lance Cain could ever think of.
I try to calm myself, put my cell away and rest on the bed. I also try to not think about the last time the bed sheets were cleaned. At some point I manage to finally slip away into sleep, with a smile on my face.
∞∞∞
Several loud knocks at my motel door wake me. I almost jump out of bed, and quickly put a large sweater on. I look at the time on a side table clock. It’s already nine in the morning. I curse under my breath. I was told a driver would pick me up promptly at nine. I had a wake-up call with the motel desk clerk arranged for seven thirty to make sure I would be ready. So much for customer service.
I walk to the curtains near the front door and open them slightly. I see a tall man, wearing a navy blue sport jacket and a white button-up shirt on. His fixes his sunglasses, and stares at his leather gloves with a look of disdain. He looks like he is in his thirties, and some sort of businessman. He notices me and smiles. I wave and give him a signal suggesting I need a few moments to get ready. He nods his head.
I
