Page 221 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 7

Happy divorce day.I took a big sip of vodka.And cheers to blacking out for the first time ever.I loved crossing things off my list.

Stalker Problems - Chapter 5 - A Million Dollars?!

Wednesday – April 5, 2023

Ow.I put a fresh ice pack on my head and sat back down on the couch. I hadn’t blacked out like I’d planned. I remembered everything about last night. Checking Sierra’s Instagram a dozen more times, trying to google my protein predicament to no success, and researching rich people in NYC in an attempt to find my stalker. Spoiler alert – I couldn’t find him. I also took two more showers because…dumpster. I hadn’t even blacked out a little bit. Which meant I couldn’t cross anything off my list.

And apparently now that I was almost 30, I couldn’t drink vodka out of a wine glass at 3 in the morning and expect to feel okay when I woke up.Getting old sucks.

Now I was nursing the worst hangover in the history of hangovers, while also stressing out about my new job. I adjusted the ice on my forehead. I didn’t know how to act at work. Or with coworkers. Or what to talk about at a watercooler, if those were even still a thing. I hadn’t had a real job since my freshman year of college when I worked at Sears. Ever since then, I’d put every working hour into saving Joe’s family cupcake business. Until he divorced me and took 100% of the business.

Stressing out probably made my headache worse. It was like a never-ending cycle from hell.

I pulled my laptop onto my lap and squinted at the bright screen. I needed a new wardrobe of work-appropriate clothing.Even though I didn’t know how to behave at an office, I could at least look good trying. Maybe a nice pair of slacks could be a conversation starter. I wanted to vomit at that thought. Slacks and conversations both sucked balls. And now I was starting to get sweaty just thinking about socializing.

I was officially spiraling. I slapped the side of my face.Focus, Ash. Work-appropriate clothing.I googled it. Yep, I didn’t have anything appropriate. It wasn't that all of my clothes were too slutty or anything, they just weren't fancy enough for a major marketing firm. Yoga pants and T-shirts were my thing. I was a workout aficionado now. And yoga pants were also really comfortable for curling up on the couch while nursing a vicious hangover.

My head hurt too much to sift through Amazon and determine what was actually legit and what would arrive at my doorstep three months from now looking like a twelve-year-old Thai girl had sewn arms onto a trash bag and called it a "Women's Fashion Blazer." I’d try again tomorrow. I curled up in a ball with my ice pack and promised myself I’d never drink vodka ever again.

***

I was staring at my screen again the next morning, still trying to determine what would come in time. And honestly…I had no idea. I just needed to make a decision. But decisions werereally hard to make sometimes when you didn’t have a sounding board.

I eyed my phone. Chastity would love to help me with this. But I also didn’t always trust Chastity’s fashion advice. She erred on the side of promiscuous. I was pretty sure she was sleeping with someone at BIMG and that was the only reason I’d gotten the job. You know, since I’d almost peed my pants at the interview. I hadn’t even been smooth about it.

This was a choice I’d have to make for myself. God, I’d rather die than wear a blazer. But I still hit the “proceed to checkout” button on Amazon. I’d be able to pay all this back as soon as I got my first paycheck. I cringed as my mouse hovered over the “place your order” button. I couldn’t procrastinate this huge decision any longer.

Wait.Wait.What if I went out to a work function at a fancy restaurant like the one I went to with Matthew Caldwell and the unthinkable happened? I couldn’t risk ever causing a secondincident. And I couldn’t afford to lose this job, because I was about to order a bunch of stupid clothes I didn’t want. And Amazon was easy to order from, but it was very hard to return things thanks to their insistence on using UPS for returns. I only ever saw FedEx men for some reason. Maybe it was because they wore bright colors. Either way, I wouldn’t be able to return anything I got because it seemed too complicated. Which meant I couldn’t set any dicks on fire anytime soon.

I quickly searched for mini fire extinguishers.Oh. My. God. Yes!They had a portable one about the size of a can of Lysol. It even looked like a spray can. Which was good, because I technically had no idea how to use a fire extinguisher and this looked easy.I’d have to start carrying around a huge purse to accommodate it. But I’d rather have back problems than light another man’s junk on fire.Add to cart.Having something I actually wanted in my cart made the whole process of actually clicking “place your order” a lot easier.

Phew.I immediately felt the stress of indecision melt off my shoulders. Maybe all the clothes would look terrible. But that was a problem for another day. Besides, as a last resort I could go to a physical store with actual humans in it. I laughed at the thought.Never.That’s what the internet was for.

My stomach growled. God, how long had I been sitting here? It felt like I hadn’t eaten in years. And I definitely deserved some kind of culinary reward after nursing a hangover for two days and online shopping for stupid grown-up clothes. I put on my pants - shut up, you'd shop pantsless too if you lived alone - and walked out of my apartment and down the rickety stairs. The Panera across the street was calling to me.

I checked my mail on the way out. A money mailer, a Viagra advertisement for the old dude who'd lived in my apartment years ago, some circulars, an electric bill... There was a reason why I didn't check my mail more often. None of it was ever exciting. My mom occasionally sent me a greeting card and $10, but that was as good as it got. I was about to close my mailbox when I noticed that I had missed something: a little black envelope, just like the one at the party.

Come on, Liz.Yup, I’d decided that Liz was the mastermind behind the envelope. It fit her MO perfectly. Not only was it weird and artsy, but it was also a clever way for her cheap ass to avoid actually buying me anything. Sending a second envelopewas just overdoing it, though. I would have much preferred if she had just like...I dunno, moved to California or something. Nowthatwould have been a gift worth getting excited about.

No matter how much Liz sucked, I was still curious to see what weird shit she had come up with now. I assumed it would be a super lame play on my wish, something like a drawing of shoes and an article about how sinners burn in hell.

But what if this wasn't Liz's work after all? What if this had been Madison's gift? In that case, the envelope would probably contain Joe's severed penis. No…it was too flat for that. Joe was small, but notthatsmall.

I tore through the golden wax seal and opened the envelope. Just like the first one, it contained a single sheet of parchment. I unfolded it and read:

Welcome to the Society! Your wish has been received and is being processed.

The Society thanks you for your security deposit of $1,000,000. This deposit will be returned in full upon you leaving the Society, as per clause 6 of our terms and conditions.

Your first complimentary spa session will be Thursday, April 6 at 3 p.m. at the Shifting Sands Spa.

That's today.More importantly, what the hell did I just read?

I definitely had not sent them a million dollars. Nor had I even mailed my wish in the first place.But Chastity probably did.I rubbed my forehead. I’d left the invitation at her apartment, right? It was hard to remember. I was pretty sure I was still hungover from all that vodka that hadn’tquitegotten me blackout drunk.

I took out my phone and called her. Twenty minutes later, we slid into a booth together at Panera.

"Of course I mailed in your wish," said Chastity. "You think I’d let you pass up the opportunity to join the Society? I mean…I’m assuming that wasn’t a real invitation. But what if it was?!”