Training the Orphan

The Elite

Outrageous. That was the word anyone would use to describe what my friend, Kate did.

"I can't believe you did that!" I whisper-yelled, latching the bathroom door.

There had to be some great life-threatening reason why she would approach the elites.

"Well," she started, a little hesitant. "I heard the commotion coming from their room when I went to take their orders only to find out they were fighting. I couldn't have just walked in."

"So, you eavesdropped on their private conversation," I deadpanned.

She shook her head. "No, I waited until they were finished, and heard what they were talking about in the process. That's not eavesdropping. It is called being polite. As it turns out, Mr. Hot needs a fake girlfriend s***h finance. The best part is she has to be an orphan. I got excited. Then, I was like you're an orphan."

Unbelievable!

I glared at her. " So, you decided to throw me under the bus without my consent."

She narrowed her eyes at me with a sigh. "No, I recommended you as a candidate. There's money involved, and we both know you need the money."

I gripped the bathroom sink and studied the floor.

Kate came up behind me and massaged my shoulders. "I'm sorry, Nat. I know you think this is wrong but there's money involved. Preferably lots and lots of money. You need this."

Kate was right. I did need the money. My rent was due and I was tapped out of cash. Over the years, I had to acquire three jobs to get by. Everything worked out. I worked and tried to keep my grades up. I had everything handled. Until I didn't. Work started getting in the way of my school attendance. I started getting too tired all the time. Then, I started failing calculus.

Last month, I found out that if I didn't get my grades up and slow down, it could cost me my scholarship. This was my junior year. I couldn't afford to drop out now. I needed to finish college. Therefore, I quit two of my jobs. Kept the job here at the restaurant because it was the only one that was paying more and had benefits. My grades were back up, my attendance was good. I got the chance to rest. Everything would be back to normal if it weren't for my bills.

I looked up in the mirror at Kate. "I did need the money. Besides, nothing will be real." To be honest, I was trying to convince myself more than her.

A smile brightened my friend's face. "Exactly. We're being good Samaritans. We're helping people who need it. Like charity."

Charity?

I arched a brow. "Really, charity?"

Kate bobbed her head. "Yep, Charity. They need someone. You're taking time out of your busy schedule to assist them. You're giving them something no one else can. The only difference is that they're going to pay you."

Right.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Great!" She grabbed my arm and led me to the bathroom door. " Now, let's get this over with before they change their minds."

Darn you, Kate.

Kate and I have been friends ever since I got this job as a waitress two years ago. I was practically an introvert back then. But, Kate wouldn't have it. She annoyed me until I spoke to her. She was the master of being adventurous and spontaneous. Over the years she taught me alot.

Every stupid situation we got into was insinuated by her. Like always, we got ourselves out of it with another lesson learned. Without a doubt, this would be the same. Yet, the closer I got to the private room the elites occupied, the less I wanted to turn around. There were still symptoms of anxiety and anticipation, but nothing that could not be handled.

Javian Webster wanted a fake girlfriend. It was a hilarious situation. The guy never approached or talked with anyone below his status. In fact, he didn't talk to anyone at all, including those from his social status. Those people often corresponded with his friend, Kevin, who then seemed to talk with Javian. They had a system. A system they both seemed to love.

Javian Webster was intense and intimidating. He turned the common h into a capital h for the hottest man ever. He was beyond gorgeous. With his shortcut, black, silky hair. I imagined it was soft and silky. It was always shimmering, even in the dark, so that gave it some points.

His crystal blue eyes could pierce into anyone's soul. His eyes were almost clear that it could make anyone lose themselves just by staring into them, even if he wasn't looking at them. Strong jaws and seductive lips added to his attraction. Not to mention, his physique.

God, his physique.

I often wondered how many times a day he worked out. He had to be doing something to stay sexy. Most of the time if he turned at a certain angle, I could outline all his abs by the shirt he wore. His pants were no better. They weren't too tight, but they weren't too loose either. Rumor had it that all his clothes were tailored just for him. Which gave light to why his clothes always looked good on him. They were always the perfect fit. Sometimes they illustrated what was hidden underneath them and what we were missing. Yet, still held some level of secrecy which made us want to know more. His designer was an artist.

The way Javian walked into a room with class and confidence illustrated how proud he was of himself. When Javian walked into the room, everything went quiet. The women—from all ages—drooled as he passed by. Even the men—gay or straight—admired him. Javian was the God of attraction.

Most of us girls had daydreams of him just saying hi to us. Yep, I was one of those girls. Of course, I didn't voice my opinion aloud when the other girls did. I listened because a guy like Javian would never speak to a girl from a lower class of wealth.

The thought brought me to a halt.

I couldn't do this. What if it was a trick? We were going to make fools of ourselves.

"Whatever you're thinking about, you have to stop," Kate lectured. "We have to go, they're waiting for us. We have to go. What kind of person do you want him to remember you as? The coward that made him think we were helping, but then stood him up? Or the girl who tried to help?"

I couldn't be the girl who stood up an elite. My career would die even before I left college. He would make my life a living hell. I couldn't manage another hell.

I blew out my cheeks and started walking again.

This was somewhat scarier than anything else. If it was his best friend, Kevin who wanted to see me, everything would have been better. He was the friendly one. Kevin had the hot cover of a magazine, playboy look. He was the guy, who talked with everyone and anyone, whether they were from the upper class or lower class. He was the nice one.

The problem was he was always happy. Too happy. It was annoying. There was never a moment where I had ever seen him without a smile. This was what attracted people to him. Not his wealth. If I was the chirpy type, he was the guy for me. But, I wasn't. I was the girl who hated half if not the majority of my day. Smiles made me nauseous. And, that is why I only did it for my customers. Kevin wasn't my type and I wasn't his.

We managed to reach the elite's private dining room without turning around. Taking a deep breath, we stepped inside.

Javian was standing in front of the transparent wall, overlooking the few other buildings, roads, and the ocean below. Lights from the building twinkled, and illuminated the night, giving the stretch a glorious beauty. Javian's palms were hidden in the pockets of his blue trousers.

Kevin was seated around the dinner table with a gorgeous redhead. The female's radiant crimson hair was styled in the precise and perfect waves of curls I had ever seen. Her hazel brown eyes were outlined with dark erotic eyeliners. The look advertised her plush lashes. I was a woman and even her crimson-coated lips were sexy to me.

Damn, who was this woman?

The angle from where Ms. Beauty Queen was seated showed off her dress. The angle showcased how the black silhouette dress hugged her curves. There was a mesh designed in the shape of a V at the front of the dress. The mesh exposed half her breast to any sane heterosexual guy, and maybe not so heterosexual females. The garment ended right above her knee, or it appeared as if it did. There was no telling. She was sitting, so it could be that the dress rode up to her knee. Once anyone walked into the room, they were given a clear view of her legs. A silver ankle bracelet that resembled the choker around her neck was positioned above yellow six-inch heels.

I wasn't going to lie. This girl was a Goddess.

"Come," she beckoned with purple fingernails.