CHAPTER 61

“Coffee please”

“Is that all sir”

“Yes”

“You know you could just make coffee in your house

Unless of course your motive isn't breakfast—”

Arman kept a straight face

“Don't employees get sanctioned for chasing customers away?”

“Your coffee will be here soon

Sir”

Was Arman really going to pretend that what happened between them a few days ago didn't happen?

Not that anything happened, she just felt that he cared or something

But she was beginning to look at things like these from the lens of a person that had been broken several times before

And Claire was broken—

Arman saw her, thought she needed help and offered to help her. There was nothing to it. He would do the same thing for a random waitress, or an old lady, or an underpaid construction worker

But then, when she came to clear the table—

She found a wad of cash under his tray

He had already zoomed off before she could confront him

Was he trying to offer her financial support because he saw her get caught up in the rain for working late?

That was how Donald started. Gifts, all kinds of gifts. Money, a car even

And when she finally got the real picture, she realised that that was just his way of winning her over

Arman probably had the same objective. He wanted answers, that was his reason for all of that

Nobody loved her, not even her mother. And she betrayed the one and only person that did

So the next morning, while she served him his coffee—

She placed his money on the tray, and gave it to him

There were no side glances, no remarks, no sign that they knew each other whatsoever

But then, like he didn't get the idea—

He dropped another was of cash

This time, she was able to get to him before he could enter his car

She walked up to him, grabbed his palm and clasped his fingers around the two bundles of cash he had given her

“Do I look like a fucking charity case to you?

Is need all you see when you look at me?

I don't want your fucking sympathy, I don't want your pity

And I definitely don't want your money!”

“You're being dramatic”

“Answers

That's what you want right? You want to know what happened between me and Donald, you want to know if you should be worried about Sharon

That's all you truly want, that's your reason for coming here”

A tear slipped down her cheek

“I'm sure there are orphanages willing to accept your donation

All you really want is answers to all your questions

So don't you dare walk up in here and act like you give a fuck!”

Claire was looking him in the eye, but Arman seemed to be looking behind her

Her manager was standing there, his arms were folded across his belly, and he did not look pleased

Claire you're fir—

“No you pot bellied womaniser”

She turned around to look at him

“I fucking quit!”

********************

Claire gulped what was left of the second bottle of alcohol that day.

Her apartment was a mess, her mind was worse.

Her uniform was torn to shreds on the floor

She made one good decision, one good decision to get herself a means of making an honest living

And Arman messed it up for her—

Actually, she messed it up for herself

She was being dramatic

But she just felt so angry, she felt like history was repeating itself, and took out her anger on him

But she didn't have it in her to regret, because either way she was the victim

She took a shower, and opened the box she had closed when she met Donald

She pulled out her thong, her heels, her leotard, basically every piece of her midnight ballerina uniform

Then she began to dab makeup on her face

She had never gone to the club completely drunk before, but at that point she could not relate consciousness with perception

She wore a long coat, took her purse and picked up her phone

There were twelve missed calls. It was Arman

she began dropping voice messages in her drunken state

“Arman you fucker! Come interrogate me! That's what you want right

Like Donald, he wanted information. You're no different from him

You give me a ride, and act all nice, but then you act like nothing fucking happened!

Worse, you get me fired—

I was trying to be a good girl, but now I'm over all that. I’m not meant to be loved, fuck!”

With one final touch if lipstick, she ended the message. And walked out of her apartment the same way she had done for as long as she could remember

She knew she was making a stupid decision, but Claire made it anyway