"I just don't get it, Hannah. I worked so hard for years and Gary always said I was hardworking." I close my eyes letting the tears cascade. My best friend stuffs me with chocolate, muffling my cries.
"Screw Gary." Hannah is dramatic. She lifts my head from her lap and chugs down a mouthful of chocolate syrup.
I could've sworn she was the brave one. But she had balled her eyes the moment I walked through the door after being laid off from work.
"I'm so sorry you got fired, Am." She rests her head against the couch, draping her legs on the wooden center table.
"Not fired. Just laid off," I remind her. At least that's what Gary says. When I close my eyes all I see is his bald hair, and his aged face, beaming at me.
"God, God," I toss the throw pillow across the room, and it hits the TV with a thud.
"Amber Hart, you're a strong courageous woman and whatever job you decide to do—I'm very sure you'll do great," Hannah confidently states. She lifts her legs from the table, effortlessly. I watch keenly as she stands, her long shaved legs taking the spotlight. No wonder all the men are after her.
"As much as you believe in me, you're wrong," I tell her. I hug the strawberry-shaped pillow so hard, my breath hitches. I bury my face in its warmth.
"Girl," Hannah flicks my forehead with her fingers. I lift my head. She shakes her head vigorously, and to prove her point, she waves her hand before my face. "No, no."
"No, what?" I ask.
She places her heel beside my thigh, and the cushion dips under her weight. She leans forward, her breasts visible underneath her crop top.
"You, my dear friend, are good at whatever you do. You need to go out there and shine."
I have worked the counter for five years at Happy Sweet —a small donut shop across the street. Gary has been a wonderful boss, and the shifts were only for five hours a night.
I don't know if I am ready for a new job yet.
"You're right," I agree. Hannah has this vibrant aura that is contagious. She is also good at convincing which is why I always listen to her. Unfortunately.
She plops beside me and threads her dirty chocolate-coated finger on the couch.
"Hey," I dismiss her by tapping on her shoulder.
She chuckles but doesn't stop, which makes me giggle too.
"Thank you so much for staying with me. You have a job to attend to, yet you—" I say. I owe her a lot. Tears gather at the corner of my eyes, and I blink repeatedly. I hate when I'm being emotional.
"Day shifts at the bar are hardly considered a job." She shrugs her shoulders and reaches for the remote. She is lucky she has a cool boss who lets her off the hook easily.
She presses the buttons for a few seconds and throws it away. The TV has been broken for a few months now, and I'm paying off my student loans so I hardly have enough to spare.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. I hate that when she comes over we can't even watch TV or do anything fun. We are always sitting on the couch talking about absolutely nothing.
"Who needs the TV anyway?" Hannah says smiling. She bends and places the bottle of chocolate on the floor.
"What about we watch something on my laptop?" She suggests, reaching for the backpack on the floor. Her glittery-adorned laptop stands out even in the daylight.
I sit opposite her, my legs overlapping, and my hands somewhere in the big hoodie.
She types in her password and navigates through. "What type of movie do you want to watch?"
"Anything will be fine," I answer absentmindedly.
"Hey, hey," Hannah yells dropping her laptop on the space beside me.
"What's wrong?" My heart races in fear as I inquire.
"This is it, Amber. This is perfect." She turns the laptop towards me, the light almost blinding. I lean in to read the words inscribed on a flyer, but apparently, I am slow; Hannah takes it away from me and scoffs.
"They are paying a hundred million dollars for someone willing to be a wife for The Cian Desmond," she pronounces the name breathlessly. When I don't catch up, she raises an eyebrow.
"That must be a scam." I roll my eyes. There's no sane person who will just give out that amount of money just for a marriage. And Hannah should know better.
"No. It's a registered site and it's licensed." She points her finger at a logo of some sort at the top of the site.
"It's too good to be true," I voice out.
"Do you know how powerful The Cian Company is?" She asks. I rake my brain for a clue but come up with nothing. I have no idea what that is or who she is talking about.
"OMG, you don't know who he is, do you?" She places her hands on my shoulder.
"No," I say the only thing that comes to my mind.
Hannah is not satisfied. She abandons the laptop and makes her way to the kitchen just a few feet away. The tap runs for a few seconds and she is back, wiping the dripping water at the corner of her lips with her bare hands.
"He is the billionaire, the billionaire," she repeats. I'm getting annoyed because she seems to know a lot while I don't.
"Are you on social media?" She takes her position beside me on the couch. Her fingers are rubbing her shins, like a detective about to make a grand discovery.
"I have Instagram." Which I haven't actually been on forever. But she doesn't need to know that.
"Whatever." Hannah smiles it off, and takes both of my cheeks between her palms.
I have no choice but to look at her pointy nose and rosy lips.
"You've gotten a job, that's the main point."
"I didn't agree to this. I'm not about to exploit myself for money." Plus I'm only twenty three I still have time to fall in love, have kids, and live happily ever after. Contract marriages never work, not in movies and certainly not in books.
"When last did you pay the rent? When last did you eat something that you really craved? When last did you buy yourself a present?" Hannah asks.
She glares at my faded hoodie.
"I—" I can't defend myself. I have always been optimistic about getting myself out of debt. My parents live two hours away from LA, and hardly visit. They are also struggling so I can't run to them.
"And your student loan?" My best friend reminds me.
"You didn't even get to finish college." I hate that she is right. I hate that my dreams of becoming an accountant are down the drain because of my situation.
"I'll do it."
Hannah claps her hands in the air. She seems to get the answer she wants, she pats my head like a little kid, and hands me the bottle of chocolate.
I don't know what I'm getting myself into, but whatever it is, I'm ready for it.
Maybe.