Read Online Bad Boy Rock Star by Candy J Starr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Candy J Starr
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Coming of Age, Contemporary, Genre Fiction, Romantic Comedy, New Adult & College
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of sick pleasure seeing me down and out. And I'd get another lecture about being stupid for having my wallet stolen. Nobody tells you about things before they happen but afterwards everyone's an expert.
I'd have bought one of those delish pastries if I'd known some scumbag was going to steal my money anyway. There was no point in even trying not to spend money in this world. Fate just stepped in and punished you.
Anyway, I could deal with this myself. I was strong. I just had to use my brain and my initiative and put myself into "poor person" mode. I bet poor people dealt with this kind of thing all the time and I was obviously smarter than them.
When I got home, I threw myself on the bed. I'd just sleep for the next few days until Friday then I'd not have to eat or do anything that cost money. That would be for the best. Except I had to book the band into that club and I had to come up with a grand for the video cost. My stomach rumbled and I realised I'd had nothing but a cup of tea all day.
I emptied out my bag and counted my change. I had $3.15. That wouldn't even buy a burger. My stomach rumbled louder. Then I remembered the box in the cupboard. Filled with chocolate tree frogs. I opened the packet and took a bite. Then nearly spat it out. I checked the packaging again. These things were organic, sugar-free chocolate. The 'guilt-free' treat. Guilt-free, my butt. They should feel guilty for even making these nasty things. And I should feel guilty for handing them out to unsuspecting people.
I finished eating it though , because food is food.
Then I spent a long time lying on my bed, looking at the cracks in the ceiling. When you have a problem, cracks in the ceiling are probably the worst advisors to turn to for answers but I had nothing else. The white ceiling had water stains that looked like deformed zoo animals and the cracks were like the fences holding them in. If it wasn't for those cracks, the water stain animals would surely get free and attack me.
Then I jumped up. I had an idea. What had I been thinking? I was sitting on a gold mine. Almost literally. All my money problems would be over.
Chapter 8
"I only do commission sales," the girl said, twirling her hair around her finger, but she had the hunger in her eyes. I recognised it.
"Yeah ? Well, I need the money now."
I figured if I just stood there until she said yes, she'd give in eventually. I hadn't lugged two huge bags of clothes all the way across town, using my last coins on train fare , to sell stuff on commission. She was getting a super bargain and she knew it. There were thousands of dollars of designer clothes in those bags. Not to mention handbags and shoes.
I'd sorted through the clothes in my room, ruthlessly putting them into piles of things I could sell. I'd made myself have a heart of stone. Absolute stone. No emotion at all. That formal gown I'd worn when Tom first kissed me – gone. The shoes I wore to my debutante ball – gone. The fabulous one-off gown that made me look as if I was made of diamonds – didn't need it.
When I picked up the fab Valentino boots I'd only bought a few months ago and never worn, I started to falter.
"Heart of stone, Hannah," I reminded myself and put them in the "for sale" pile.
I looked at what was left. A couple of Donna Karan dresses for those power bitch meetings, a few pairs of jeans and some t-shirts, my leather jacket that had a price tag so high I could've bought a small apartment for the same price and some cute dresses.
I picked up the top I'd worn the night I'd gone to see Storm play about to toss it in the bag but, for some stupid reason, I lifted it to my face and sniffed it. Something about the smell made me happy for a moment. I decided to keep it. With all the beer stains and muck on it, I doubted it would sell anyway.
"Heart of stone," I told myself again and remembered that someone had told me it was character building to help the unfortunate. Who is more unfortunate than those
I'd have bought one of those delish pastries if I'd known some scumbag was going to steal my money anyway. There was no point in even trying not to spend money in this world. Fate just stepped in and punished you.
Anyway, I could deal with this myself. I was strong. I just had to use my brain and my initiative and put myself into "poor person" mode. I bet poor people dealt with this kind of thing all the time and I was obviously smarter than them.
When I got home, I threw myself on the bed. I'd just sleep for the next few days until Friday then I'd not have to eat or do anything that cost money. That would be for the best. Except I had to book the band into that club and I had to come up with a grand for the video cost. My stomach rumbled and I realised I'd had nothing but a cup of tea all day.
I emptied out my bag and counted my change. I had $3.15. That wouldn't even buy a burger. My stomach rumbled louder. Then I remembered the box in the cupboard. Filled with chocolate tree frogs. I opened the packet and took a bite. Then nearly spat it out. I checked the packaging again. These things were organic, sugar-free chocolate. The 'guilt-free' treat. Guilt-free, my butt. They should feel guilty for even making these nasty things. And I should feel guilty for handing them out to unsuspecting people.
I finished eating it though , because food is food.
Then I spent a long time lying on my bed, looking at the cracks in the ceiling. When you have a problem, cracks in the ceiling are probably the worst advisors to turn to for answers but I had nothing else. The white ceiling had water stains that looked like deformed zoo animals and the cracks were like the fences holding them in. If it wasn't for those cracks, the water stain animals would surely get free and attack me.
Then I jumped up. I had an idea. What had I been thinking? I was sitting on a gold mine. Almost literally. All my money problems would be over.
Chapter 8
"I only do commission sales," the girl said, twirling her hair around her finger, but she had the hunger in her eyes. I recognised it.
"Yeah ? Well, I need the money now."
I figured if I just stood there until she said yes, she'd give in eventually. I hadn't lugged two huge bags of clothes all the way across town, using my last coins on train fare , to sell stuff on commission. She was getting a super bargain and she knew it. There were thousands of dollars of designer clothes in those bags. Not to mention handbags and shoes.
I'd sorted through the clothes in my room, ruthlessly putting them into piles of things I could sell. I'd made myself have a heart of stone. Absolute stone. No emotion at all. That formal gown I'd worn when Tom first kissed me – gone. The shoes I wore to my debutante ball – gone. The fabulous one-off gown that made me look as if I was made of diamonds – didn't need it.
When I picked up the fab Valentino boots I'd only bought a few months ago and never worn, I started to falter.
"Heart of stone, Hannah," I reminded myself and put them in the "for sale" pile.
I looked at what was left. A couple of Donna Karan dresses for those power bitch meetings, a few pairs of jeans and some t-shirts, my leather jacket that had a price tag so high I could've bought a small apartment for the same price and some cute dresses.
I picked up the top I'd worn the night I'd gone to see Storm play about to toss it in the bag but, for some stupid reason, I lifted it to my face and sniffed it. Something about the smell made me happy for a moment. I decided to keep it. With all the beer stains and muck on it, I doubted it would sell anyway.
"Heart of stone," I told myself again and remembered that someone had told me it was character building to help the unfortunate. Who is more unfortunate than those
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