" Are you alright, Sir?" Lanke, my driver asked with that weird accent of his.

" Of course I'm not" I had wanted to snap, but Lanke was one of those few persons I've come to respect. He was a black, advancing into his late fifties. Three years into the job, putting up with my outbursts, insults and demeaning attitude, I respected him unlike those young blood who always bailed a few months from the job.

The longest anyone of them had stayed was a year and six months before deciding that my attitude wasn't worth the pay. I never expected that I would ever come to like Lanke, one, he was older and doesn't get me at times and two, he has a weird accent which he claimed was because he was a Yoruban.

A tribe according to him in West Africa, Nigeria to be precise.

The truth was that I'm far from alright. How could I be when each second, minute, hour and day, feels like a countdown leading to the inevitable. I may not take my situation seriously in the presence of others, but deep down I was scared shit of dying.

I watched him look at me again through the rear mirror, his face a contour of worried lines and reminded myself that I was Richard Wellington and I hate pity. Lanke knew of my condition and that alone should be enough to fire him, but for some unfathomable reasons, I just couldn't.

"Lanke, what have I told you about that look?" I asked, catching him off guard.

"Uhm… Sorry Sir, as a father myself I…"

"Just wipe it off your face and keep your eyes on the road" I interjected, not in the mood for his overly concern.

With a forced smile, he muttered, "Yes Sir".

A pang of guilt thrummed through me and before it could spread to my cold heart, my phone rang.

The number wasn't one I recognized and as I wasn't in the mood for dealing with strangers or fans. I allowed it to continue vibrating. The urge to get high and simply float on the clouds of ecstasy tugged with desperation in my mind as the phone kept ringing. But I couldn't even do that since I was with Lanke, and he hated seeing me smoke. It's times like this that I miss my younger employees, especially Trey, who always got the good stuff.

After the second ring, I was curious about the voicemail that came after. So I punched on the button.

"Hello" it began in a feminine voice I didn't recognize, I almost dismissed it as one of those girls I had moved on from, but somehow was still stuck in the dream of getting me back, when it continued;

"This is Beck from Falling Stars Hotel, if this is Richard Wellington then Sir, a certain friends of yours, hold on a minute, Sir what do you say it's your name again" I felt the pause as if in that moment she had been holding the phone away from her mouth, a voice I would recognize anywhere grumbled in the background, "Chad Ramsey".

The voice mail continued, " Okay , so Sir your friend Chad Ramsey has been here for a few days now and he has accumulated quite a debt. His credit card has been maxed and according to him, you are the only one who can help him, so if you get this message don't hesitate to come save your friend."

" Fuck!" I yelled after the beep at the end of the voice mail.

I heard Lanke utter a curse in his dialect and the car screeched to a halt. Without even waiting for a go ahead order, he revised the car and sped towards the location. I couldn't have liked him more than I did at that moment, the guy knew me and how I never play with those I care about.

"Pick up. Pick up" I agitatedly spoke over the dialing tone.

"Why are you calling this early?", Aaron Wald grumpily said after the fourth ring.

"Hey Wald, it's Chad again. He's been held at Falling Stars for accumulation of debt. I'm already on my way there, could you get your ass there?"

"For heaven's sake, we warned Chad about that girl and now you're seeing it. How low love can hit a man, anyway though I have someplace I need to be, but I will be there…" I think he had meant to say more before the voice in the background asked "Baby, where are you going? You promised that you would be mine all day"

"Oh get over yourself Ella or is it Bella… what's that your name again?"

"It's Keila, actually" I heard a girl say and Aaron fly as he zipped himself before continuing,

"I know I hit that thing right, but is it really enough to start calling me 'baby'. And I have to ask 'are you dumb or just stupid?', thinking that I, Aaron Wald, was going to actually stay here with you all day especially after I have had my fill of you last night. In case you didn't get the clue, I just said that because I wanted to get in there." A chuckle, then there was a kiss, probably he had kissed her on the forehead before adding "You were exceptional darling, but Aaron Wald is always on the hunt for better. I will wire some money to your account, let it be my parting gift. Bye Leila"

" But Baby… Aaron… Baby" and a door banged shut, fading away her voice.

"Same old Wald" I thought, smiling to myself as I hit the end-call button.

I loved my friends, we had met at high school and years later we remain solid. We were sometimes called 'The Heartbreak Trio" by a certain news column. Others called us "BP's" (Billionaire Playboys), that was until Chad who according to his name and its usage in the internet slang, seduction community and incel slang. He was very handsome and tall. The kind of man whom women find sexually attractive and he had reveled in such attention. Dating more girls than Aaron and I combined until he met Zara.

Zara was an Indian model we met at one of the fashion shows. She had a skin that glowed and dark hair so rich and long that it touched her bulging butts. I had liked her the first time I saw her, hell, we all liked her and like every other time we all liked one girl at the same time. The challenge to see which of us would sway her was instigated.

I have never lost such a challenge, in fact, Chad and Wald suspected at the beginning that I would win, considering my charm, influence and looks, though they never voiced such concerns.

Zara proved to be very difficult. She was the kind of girl who knew just how beautiful she was and she flaunted her assets like a whip. Lashing out at anyone who came close. After three months of no progress, we gave up or I thought we all did. As a billionaire with such rakish reputation I hated for the news or gossip columns to carry something like;

"Billionaire Playboy, Richard Wellington fails to sweep Zara Vishwamitra, the Indian goddess, off her feet"

Or,

"Zara Vishwamitra chooses her career over dalliance. Oops, Richard."

Apparently, Chad never did let her go, somehow he had fallen for her more than the 'like' category and I don't really know if it was the consistency or the genuineness, but he got Zara. He got the girl we had failed to get.

Their love story trended for weeks, with headlines like,

"Billionaire Playboy, Chad Ramsey is smitten"

"Love arrests the cold heart of Chad Ramsey in the form of Zara Vishwamitra"

"It's a new dawn—Zara & Chad"

They even had hashtags like - #Chadra #Zarhad among the rest.

It lasted three years before Zara broke his heart. I really don't remember what happened, but it was after they had traveled to India–yeah it was that serious. Our boy came back two weeks earlier than expected, all teary and gloomy.

I think it was something about Zara's parents and family members not finding him worthy of upholding their traditions and customs or was it Zara, herself?

It's been three weeks now and my boy still hasn't gotten over her. He had stuck with gambling, drinking and clubbing away from dawn till dusk. To the extent that his card has been maxed. Thankfully it was one.

The modern skyscraper silver façade building of the famous 'Falling Stars Hotel' appeared into view, shimmering like the night sky under the morning light, startling me back to the present.

As Lanke pulled over, I promised myself again, "never ever to give a girl or love such power and effect over me."

Putting on my dark shades because the last thing I needed was paparazzi, I alighted from the obsidian Mercedes Benz S-class S 580. Lanke flanked my side as we made our way to the entrance.

In haste as to not get discovered, I didn't stop to admire the dramatic, cantilevered roofline and the gleaming chrome-coated porte-cocheré that marked the hotel entrance.

That changed when I stood in the lobby. It wasn't my first time, but I couldn't help but admire the decor. The sight always has me tranced no matter how many times I see it. High-ceilinged with a vast crystal chandelier that refracted light into a kaleidoscope of colors, which appeared dark with my shades. The dark marble floors polished to high shine and the walls, painted with murals and scenes from Greek myths and clouds with cherubs spanning the endless blue.

Cream colored plush sofas were arranged in pairs each facing the other and divided by a circular marble table of the same hue.

Lanke stalked off to speak with one of the receptionists, and once again I was reminded that I needed a personal assistant. That was another job area people don't have the patience and humility for. The worst part of it was that these people need the pay and heaven knows I'm more than generous Yet they leave after a few months of employment, most times, days. It was a simple job, do all I tell you to do exactly how it's specified and never get on my nerves. But they always just have to ignore the last part. They always have to do something wrong.

"As I live and breathe, if it's not Raky

Richy"

By gods, how I abhorred that name and worse the voice uttering it. Muttering a curse, I turned to face Lindsey.

"Hello Lind" I said, masking a smile.

" You know I hate it when you call me that…"

" Likewise" I retorted before she could say more.

Waving off my statement, she continued in that squeaky voice I have come to hate,

"Anyway what brings you here, business or pleasure, you know I can always join you if it's the latter" she ran her manicured fingers down the length of my arm.

Something rose at my throat at the thought of doing anything with her again. When I met her that night at the 'Suns Arts Auction' staring at the painting of swirling colors on a dark background captioned 'Dream'. I had wanted nothing, but to fuck her until she saw all those colors and I did a few hours later. After a nice long conversation where she had given me the name "Raky Richy". But after, as I stared at her snoring beside me I just wasn't feeling her anymore.

Don't get me wrong, Lindsey was beautiful with short straight brown hair, gunmetal eyes- which had been what had attracted her to me. The way those colors of the painting created a mesmerizing art within her lashes. A full red lips and a petite body. But I remember feeling disgust as I watched her sprawled beside me.

When people stared at the person sleeping next to them especially after rouns of raw fuck, it's usually to memorize their beautiful features, but as I stared at her, I noticed that her nose was slightly crooked, freckles surrounded it, her lips weren't so perfect and from the slight opening between them, I saw that one of her front teeth was mismatched. I had asked myself why I didn't notice all these things before fucking her and for fear of noticing more, I remember dashing out of there at 2 am.

Holding her hand away from me, I gritted, "Nice seeing you, Lind, but I have to run along now"

She grabbed my hand as I made to leave, leaning close, she whispered nibbling at my ear,

" You know I haven't forgiven you for that stunt you pulled leaving me all alone in that hotel room or for ghosting and blocking me after on X, Facebook, hell blocking me everywhere, but gods have I missed you and that beast" in spite of myself I felt the beast in question reacting to her hot mint breath on my ear.

"Oops, looks like he missed me too" she moaned, biting harder as her palm rested on the bulge beyond my fly.

"Eh hehm" Lanke coughed from behind me.

Stepping away from Lindsey, "A pleasure to meet you, Lind" I brushed a kiss on her hand and followed Lanke.

"I will be expecting your call, Richy!" She called after me.

People stared, boy, was I glad she hadn't called me by my full name. It seemed none had recognized me yet. Holding my phone before the bulge, I quickened my steps.

"Sir, you look uncomfortable" Lanke joked as we followed a staff to the gold elevator.

" Not one more word, Lanke" I emphasized with a raised finger. He had kept his cool until the elevator dinged shut, that was when he burst into laughter. A deep throaty sound I rarely hear, and hella infectious cause I found myself laughing too.

Bright lights greeted us as we stepped out of the elevator to a sprawling open-plan living area with a baby grand piano and a fireplace.

"Money is good", I heard Lanke whistle as he took in the penthouse my friend lounged. The glass-enclosed balcony offered a 360 degrees view of the city. The bed that could house 6 hefty men comfortably. Artworks from contemporary times adorned the space, highlighted by the subtle glow of the crystal chandelier hanging above like shards of gold ice.

Everything was up to VIP standards, even the very floors we walked on, gold and dark ties spanned the space. Together with the lights, it was not just an enrapturing sight, it was comfy.

I could see why Chad chose this place. Except for the fact that he could have easily accessed any of his family hotels, this penthouse in Falling Stars offered comfort and relaxation that most other establishments couldn't rival.

"What is it, again? I told you guys that my friend is coming, can't you give a guy some peace?

Walking towards the sound of the voice, I saw my friend curled up by the side of the bed or what's left of him.

Chad's eyes were reddish and rimmed with a purplish tint. His face was swollen and had red blotches, his lips were a fading shade of fuchsia as if he was dehydrated. Simply put, he looked like shit.

"Hey Chad, it's Rich. I'm here" I squatted to his level as he raised his hands to my face as if he was finding it hard to believe it was really me.

"Richy, is it really you?" I answered with a nod, not trusting myself to say anything as tears brimmed at my eyes.

Another fact about me is that I tend to get very emotional at times. Maybe it's because of my heart condition, being weak and all. I always try to hide it, layer it all underneath rage, but it's there no matter how much I try to hide it.

The thing with hiding stuff is that the more you hide them, the better you become at doing it. Sniffing the tears back, I held my friend as his, flowed.

"I know you hate seeing me like this. Weak. Crying like a child and shit. It's pathetic, I know, but this shit is hard. I try to stay strong, to get her out of my mind. Even fuck other bitches, but she's always there, haunting me like a fucking ghost" he had said in between sobs.

Shushing him, I said, "It's alright, I may not understand what it feels like, but I've got you" aiming for some relief, I added, "just happy you didn't come with all your cards though, cause I won't say the same against your ass-whooping mama"

"Oh, shut up" I felt the quiver as he chuckled.

Truly, I hated seeing a grown-ass man reduced to a cry-baby, all for something as wack as love. And I know for damn sure that this will never ever be me any day, not in the future and most definitely not in another lifetime.

Tossing my phone with my left hand, I mouthed Lanke to call Aaron to see what's keeping him. Cause clearly I really needed extra hands on Chad's situation.

By the time I was done with the accursed tile, I was thirty minutes late.

And now, I have to pick through my drawer for something else to wear. And so far, I haven't been lucky.

One of the things that made me stand out during my internship at Bogue was my idea of individuality in fashion. I believe everyone should have a style that's uniquely customized to them. Even when one wears a popular brand like 'Wellington' or 'Frada' or even 'Access', there should be something about the outfit that's simply just you.

Whether it's a piece of jewelry, a pin, a deviation from the original style of a wear, a shade, or even a hairband, something of one's attire should really just speak of his personality.

That would be my main concept when I start my own brand 'U-nique', but with the way this morning was going, that dream appears farfetched.

The irony is that a fashion enthusiast such as myself couldn't even find something decent enough that says "Sofia Blake, a dreamer". That was what my last attire said until Alicia and her cruel daughters reduced it to exactly what I am now, "Sofia Blake, a mess".

'What am I even doing?' I thought as I held up the slightly wrinkled gray crop-shirt and blue high waist jeans. Just looking at it, I could read what it says "Sofia Blake, the minx".

It really wasn't that bad. But it was in no way what one is expected to wear for an interview for the position of a clerk. Unlike Annabel and Mirabel, who had bulging wardrobes, with clothes for every occasion. I was seriously lacking clothes.

Even the few I got after my internship. Alicia collected them before I could cross the threshold.

People wonder why I haven't fled from the house. Believe me, I've tried, but each time Alicia always finds me. As a popular woman, a phone call is usually all it takes. And of course, she also had a collar on my neck.

If I flee and after three days, I haven't been found. She would accuse me of stealing her money and belongings. Then she would let the world know that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, by making known whose daughter I was. That was the collar she had latched to my neck.

I once stayed unfound for two days, daring her to expose me and expose herself. Then I remembered how cruel she can be and what a great actress she was.

One time, she had cried when a group of men denied us entry for a function on the basis that children weren't allowed. She had cried and wailed until they were left with no choice, but to let us in. I remember her wiping away those fake tears and cooling her face back to the stoic mask I was used to.

If it came to her words against mine, I have no doubt who people would believe. After deliberating on all these, I had started trekking back to the house that night. In spite of the cold and how dangerous the streets were, I marched on. Hoping to get home before she decides to act on her threat.

It was around 2 am, when I knocked on the oak doors of the Blake mansion. And it took consistent banging that made my palms and knuckles bleed, for me to be granted entry thirty minutes later.

Time wasn't on my side, I was already 40 minutes late. I should probably give up, but I couldn't. I rather go there and be told that it's over, than decide at home that it was.

Donning the shirt and jeans, I complimented it with the hand-woven straw belt I made. A pair of fading gold dots as earrings. My caramel hair remained loose in curls, running down the length of my back. A light makeup, accentuating my rose cheeks and my cherry lips. And aiming for a touch of decency, I wore one of my coats, the light brown one with a customized belt.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I was beautiful. I have always known that fact, but also found it hard to accept. I mean, what's the use if this is the life I'm subject to live? Lacing my white Nike sneaks, I grabbed my brown handbag and stood up to check how I looked once again. A sneer twisted my face as I took in my appearance. I looked like someone heading to the club and not a business interview.

Waving off that concern, I headed downstairs. After checking everything and getting goodluck wishes from the staff, I left.

The morning air whipped at me. The sky was beautiful with patches of white and gray clouds as the sun made its way to the top. Making my way downtown, I drifted with the smell of baked goods, cakes, bread, buns and other confectioneries. My stomach growled at them as I realized that I hadn't eaten.

I walked by a man in a brown suit, a styrofoam of steaming coffee on one hand and a bagel on the other. And for a second the thought of robbing him took form in my mind as my stomach growled in agreement.

Of course, I couldn't do it no matter how successful my mind made it seem. Hurrying along past people walking their dogs, a couple that can't seem to let each other go even though they must part ways, a school boy with his graffiti skateboard, a trio of girls gossiping on their way to school, convenience stores, malls, bodegas, even Charlie's Vet.

"Sorry", the words left my lips even before I managed to regain my footing.

"Watch where you are going, asshole!" The girl I stumbled into yelled after me.

Deeming her not worthy of my time and attention, I continued on my way neglecting her curse. I didn't actually blame her, with how shitty my life was, hers could be worse.

Pacing and cursing inwardly as the fifth taxi sped across me, I groaned in frustration. I've been here ten minutes already and yet to get a cab. So in estimate from the time I left the house, juggling my way to this spot and ten minutes without a cab. I was about 55 minutes late. Five more minutes and I might just kiss that interview, goodbye.

In a city where private cars could be used for taxi or Uber, I was glad when the black Mercedes car screeched to a halt inches from where I stood. As I approached it, I realized that it looked too fancy for an Uber. It was glossy with tinted windows.

Running a hand on my hair and smelling my breath, I walked, confident that the driver must've taken a look at me and my dressing, and decided to help a beautiful girl with a lift.

I hated doing this. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Hey" I said standing by the back seat door as a man with shades alighted from the driver's seat. His blond hair was faded at the sides.

"Are you looking for someone or something?" He asked, not even looking at me. I was still waiting for him to be a gentleman and come and open the door.

He continued, "Wait, don't tell me that you know me. I mean, I know I got it and all that, but you guys should just lay off my back. Like the fuck!"

His outburst took me by surprise, what was happening? Embarrassment flushed my cheeks as I realized my mistake.

"My bad, I'm sorry" I was saying as he gathered his things. His wallet. His phone. "I thought you had pulled over for me, I…"

Cutting me off as he began pocketing said items, "Does this look like a fucking Uber, what even made you think th…"

He looked… really looked at me and for a while he was speechless. Yeah, I was that gorgeous.

"Hey, um… sorry, I didn't mean to be that harsh. I just didn't realize that you…"

"That I'm drop dead gorgeous" I supplied. "Yeah, too bad you didn't. I know I made a mistake, but you didn't have to be a prick about it. Good day"

"Hey, I'm really sorry. Come back, let me drop you off" He called as I began walking away.

"Go fuck yourself" I retorted.

Waving at the coming cab, life in its cruelty after my embarrassment, decided to let me be as the cab screeched to a halt.