RICH X B!TCH

LEAH'S POV My life’s a mess. That much I already knew. The second I pushed open the door to my tiny apartment, the hinges let out a dramatic creak, like even they were tired of me. I didn’t even turn on the lights…didn’t see the point. The apartment smelled like damp socks and old fabric softener. It always did. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag without looking back. The strap had already snapped halfway earlier today, so it gave up the second it hit the floor. I stood there for a second, listening…nothing. Except the low hum of the fridge and that damn faucet drip. I kept telling myself I’d fix it. I never did. The world outside was still moving. I could hear it—cars speeding past, a dog barking somewhere, a group of drunk girls laughing too loudly. But here, it was just stillness. I made it to the counter, grabbed a glass, and filled it with tap water. That’s when I saw them—stack of mail I’d been ignoring. Bills and final notice. Apparently, w******p’s read receipts were now my worst enemy. One glance, and Mr. Armstrong would know I was ignoring him, then he'd start lashing out. I can’t even blame him—not when I’m three months behind on rent. I reached for my phone like maybe my bank account decided to surprise me. It did... not just the good kind. $398.53. That wasn’t right. I worked a full extra shift this week. Didn’t eat out once. Wore the damn mascot suit three days straight even though it gave me heat rash. Where the hell did the rest go? Rent was due tomorrow, and Mr. Armstrong was already one voicemail away from throwing my broke ass onto the streets. I stood there staring at the screen like the numbers might shift if I looked hard enough. No such luck. Then, the universe decided to sprinkle more chaos. My phone buzzed. Grayson. Of course. I stared at the screen for a beat too long, thinking maybe if I ignored it, he’d get the hint. But he wouldn’t. He never did. I picked up. “Hey.” “You okay?” He didn’t even bother with small talk. Just went straight for it. “Do you have a camera installed or something? I literally just said hey.” “Leah, I’ve known you long enough to hear the ‘I’m spiraling’ tone in just one syllable.” He laughed. “We’ve only known each other since college, you dramatic raccoon.” Grayson and I met through some bougie intercollegiate cooking program. He took the fast train to California, now flexing foie gras on i********: and pretending to be humble in interviews. Meanwhile, I’m out here getting hugged by sticky toddlers in a bargain-bin Minnie Mouse suit and dragging my broke self to night shifts, pouring drinks for men who still think calling me “sweetheart” is charming. But hey, who says dreams don’t come true? “College feels like a lifetime when you’ve watched someone cry over spilled coffee three times.” “That was one time.” “That I witnessed. Don’t forget I was in your group chat.” I shook my head, couldn’t help the tiny smile forming. “Anyway, I’m fine.” “Liar. Talk.” I let out a dry laugh and leaned on the counter. “Okay, fine. A kid called me stinky today.” “A kid called you stinky?” The way he howled nearly made me choke on air. “What were you doing? Playing roadkill?” “I was wearing the mascot suit, thank you. It gets hot in there.” “Oh my God,” he said between laughs. “It was slightly traumatic,” I deadpanned, trying not to smile. But his laugh—it was ridiculous, the kind that made you laugh even when you didn’t want to. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said between wheezes. “Kids are savages.” “They are. Little gremlins.” “So, what did you do? Don’t tell me you let the tiny monster win.” “Do I look like someone who walks away defeated?” “That’s my girl. Give me the full drama.” I grinned. “I looked her straight in the eye and said, ‘Yeah, because I sweat like a human. Guess what? Minnie poops too.’” Grayson lost it. “And then?” he gasped. “She cried and ran out.” “You’re going to hell.” “Maybe. But I’ll have AC.” “You’re insane.” “I’m tired.” His laugh softened into a hum. “You always do this, you know.” “What?” “Pretend everything’s just one big joke when it’s not.” That shut me up a little. He paused, then added, “So… rent?” I hesitated. I almost told him the truth. That I was drowning. That I needed help. Instead, I lied. “Yeah. Paid.” Lying to Grayson sucked. But telling the truth? That I had less than four hundred dollars to my name? That I was one emergency away from sleeping in my car? That sucked worse. “You sure?” I nodded, knowing full well he couldn’t see me. “Mmhmm.” He let it go, but I could hear the doubt in his silence. “And your mom’s debt?” I didn’t answer. Just stared at the water in my glass like it might turn into wine. “I’m working on it.” That was true. Barely. After Mom died, all that remained were the hospital bills. We drained everything trying to save her. Insurance didn’t cover half the treatments. And now, here I was, buried in the wreckage. “You know I’d help if you let me,” he said. “Your dad might work for a billionaire, but that doesn’t make you one.” I forced a laugh. “I’m fine. Almost paid it all off. Just a few more payments.” I didn’t know if I believed it, but saying it helped. I looked at the clock. Night shift was in two hours. Mr. Armstrong had called three times already today. My body was sore. My bank account was empty. And all I could think was—how the hell did my life become this? Then he hit me with, “Leah, you’re breaking yourself. Just come here. You don’t even have to work right away. Just breathe.” I froze. “In California?” I asked. “Yeah.” I laughed. It wasn’t funny. Just stupid. “Grayson, I can’t even pay for this dump. What makes you think I can survive California?” “You wouldn’t have to. I’d cover it.” “No.” “Why not?” “Because then I’d owe you.” He was quiet for a second. “You don’t owe me anything.” “I’d feel like I did.” He didn’t argue. “Think about it.” And I would. Even though I already knew the answer. “I gotta go,” I said. “Leah—” “I’m fine. I’ll figure it out.” I hung up before he could say anything else. I glanced down at my screen, Mr. Armstrong had left three voicemails already. I was $101.47 short. And all I had was a fake smile, an old uniform, and five hours to make rent. Where was I supposed to make that kind of money in a night?