Stolen By His Rival

“Miss Lauren Walter, we’re calling to inform you that your father has officially gone over two weeks without providing the payment for your father’s treatments. He’ll be taken off treatment in the next five days if the payment isn’t made.”

“No, please. I—”

The loud beep came, signalling that the woman on the other side of the phone had hung up.

“Oh, God. No, no, no,” I muttered to myself, wiping my stray tears. “Fuck!”

I walked back through the backdoor and into the kitchen of the restaurant where I worked as a waitress.

I took shaky breaths, wiping the cold sweat off my forehead as I walked towards the manager’s office.

“Come on in,” his gruff voice responded right after I knocked on the door.

The door creaked open, revealing the man with his salt-and-pepper hair and matching moustache sitting behind his desk. There was a toothpick in his mouth and he sat almost lazily. The customized, illuminated nameplate on his table, which a lot of the staff laughed at behind his back, drew my attention and caused me to read the name silently—Bart Freeman.

“Walter, what brings you here?” he questioned, his brows raised in suspicion.

“I’m sorry I came here unannounced, but I have no other option. My father’s still in the hospital.” The tears made their way out of my eyes, and I wiped them almost immediately.

“He is? Lung cancer still?” Bart’s eyes widened, seeming genuinely surprised as I nodded to confirm.

“I would like to request an advance,” I admitted.

“An advance?” His southern accent seeped into his words as he leaned against his desk and spat the toothpick aside. “Lauren, you know what happened the last time I gave someone an advance. Gabe took my money and never stepped foot in here again. He ran away! I can’t do that.”

“You know me, Bart. You know I would never run away. My parents are still here. I don’t even have anywhere to run to.” I went on my knees and laced my fingers together in a plea. “Please, just this once. I’ve saved up some, and I’ll add the advance to the money I saved—”

“There ain’t nothing much I can do for ya, kid. Just take your pay for the day and hope for the best.” He shrugged, grabbing an envelope containing my day’s salary.

I took it from his hands and walked away. Before I could open the door, he started to mutter to my hearing. “Poor kid. Father’s in the hospital, mother’s an addict. Lord knows which one’s worse.”

I took my bag from the counter and walked out of the restaurant, taking my phone and dialling the number of the one person who had been helping me get through this—Conrad, my boyfriend.

I rubbed my face and sighed as it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Conrad. Please leave a message.”

“Conrad, I’m sorry to be saying this for the millionth time ever, but I need your help. The hospital called. They said they’ll take my father off treatment if I don’t pay up in the next five days. I have some money saved up and I’ll be going to pay up. I would really appreciate it if you helped me with anything. Please call me when you get this.”

Conrad’s father owned a multi-billion dollar company with chains all over the United States, but it still made me ashamed to ask him for money.

I got into a taxi and tapped my feet continuously, fiddling with my phone and finding something to busy myself with on my way to the apartment I lived in with my mom.

I started to cry again, and I could almost feel the taxi driver’s eyes boring into me from the rearview mirror.

“You okay back there, ma’am?” he inquired.

“Yeah, just a bad hair day,” I lied, wishing it really was something as easy as that.

I got out of the taxi even before he could hit the brakes, paying him and rushing off as the driver yelled at me to be careful.

I rushed into the apartment and found my mother passed out on the floor beside the only ugly yellow couch we had, her mouth wide open with drool seeping out of it. An empty syringe sat by her, a sure confirmation that her dealer had made a visit.

I walked into my room and found it all turned upside down

“No, no, no,” I chanted as I rushed to my closet, which had all of my clothes completely taken out of it.

The closet now stood empty, and I bent in a panicked fit, prying through the clothes on the floor and praying that the money I had hidden in the closet would still be somewhere in there.

“Mom!” I called, running back into the living room and shaking her awake. “Where’s the money I put in the closet? Please don’t tell me that’s what you used for drugs.”

She only responded with animalistic grunts, pulling away from my grip.

“Fuck!” I cursed aloud, running out of the house and sending another voicemail to Conrad to inform him that I was on my way to his house.

This time, I cried in the taxi without even hiding it until I got to Conrad’s house. Thankfully, the driver was less concerned.

I ran up to Conrad’s door and opened it with my spare key. He was one to sleep early and I already felt bad for rushing into his room, as I thought he would be asleep by then.

As soon as I opened the door, I immediately wished I hadn’t.

My boyfriend was right on top of another woman, both of them having sex without a care in the world.

My words and my feelings all knotted in my throat as they both turned to look at me, a mix of surprise in their eyes, but not as much surprise as I felt, seeing who the woman was.

“Shirley…” My voice was decibels below what could be considered a whisper as I called out to the woman I had known as my best friend since high school.

Conrad was cheating on me with my best friend.