Pissed off

It’s not the end of the world, but it pisses you off. This was the one night this week where your schedule lined up with Rita’s. You could’ve both been home at a normal time. You had been thinking about maybe cooking her some dinner, or at the very least ordering something for the two of you. It would’ve been a normal couple thing to do. You don’t get chances for that often.

Now you won’t get that and you won’t get any photos either. You take a swig of expensive vodka. You don’t like how it tastes, but you don’t care. Meg plops down beside you, and the others are getting sloshed and getting comfortable. They’re gossiping about players and hookups like anyone else would. Sounds like they really party with the players who get sent here. Man… every day you learn something more that makes you hate your job and wish that you had someone else’s.

Kate’s talking about a time that Adella flirted with her, and then they all start talking about Adella. You have tons of photos of Adella with various girls. Maybe you could make a sale here… but no. You don’t even feel like trying.

“You OK?” Meg asks, trying not to laugh. You probably look cartoonishly miserable.

“Fine,” you say, taking another swig. “Everything is fine.”

She scoots closer to you. “You can stay,” she says. “Party with us.”

It’s true. The others don’t seem to mind you being there. Maybe they get it. They see you as one of them: the working class.

Honestly, **** is a lot more tempting than walking back to your car in the dark and going home empty-handed.

What to do?

Stay and party?

Or head home?