Chapter 2

"Money… no money… money…" I gasped when I picked the last petal until the stem was empty. "No money?" I muttered, slapping my palm against my forehead.

I knew that whenever Johnny asked for a favor, it would bring me trouble. And if he threw out bait with his "I'll pay you" sentence, I wasn't just screwed—I was about to be broke.

Tamara had just witnessed a horrifying sight—her son trying to get into the pants of the one person she trusted… me.

I’d seen the look on her face, and it made me feel guilty.

"Guess I'm not the right choice after all," I grumbled under my breath, tossing the skinny stem I’d murdered somewhere and shifting in my seat, feeling how my butt was starting to go numb from sitting and waiting on the bench for half an hour.

Tamara had left me a message after I left Johnny’s place—aka Hell’s annex to Earth—asking me to meet her at the park.

So here I was, about an hour earlier than the same time because all my energy to work my ass off in his forsaken company—which had somehow turned into a visiting area for his women—had been drained.

"Punk-ass tease." My lips twitched, feeling the annoyance building inside me. How dare that guy just violate my ass like that?

It made my butt clap—no, no, no, I’m not going there.

My twenty-three-year-old, deflowered kitty purred a little too easily whenever he was near, and I just couldn’t let that happen.

"Hi, sorry! Did I make you wait?" Finally, Tamara arrived. Still in her too-feminine aura, she joined me on the bench and placed a cup of coffee in my hands. "There was a bit of a traffic problem," she added.

"No, it's fine. It’s actually too early. I also wanted to unwind a bit," I replied, feeling the warmth of the cup against my palm. "What is it you said was important?"

"Tell me something first, Cassidy. Is it really unbearable now?" she asked, holding her coffee—one I knew she would leave untouched. "Does my son give you a hard time?"

Unbearable? That was an understatement.

Johnny Miles was a huge pain in my ass, and at this rate, I’d be dead before I could even spend the money Tamara would pay me.

I ssighed 'dramatically', looking off into the distance, pretending to be hesitant to talk when, in reality, I wanted to 'spit' every single thing I had to endure.

Does she even have any idea how hard I'm doing my best just to finally get the money she promised me?

"You know him too well, Auntie. I'm afraid you already know the answer," I said instead, still careful with my words. I didn’t want her to feel like she’d let me down.

"I'm sorry I asked you for this favor," she said, and she 'meant' it. I could hear it in her voice.

Tamara could be both an angel and half a devil at the same time because I knew that after this little moment of sympathy, she was about to drop a hurricane that would rip my roof off.

She never give a hint of how hard the storm would hit, but I always had to expect the strongest.

She opened her leather shoulder bag and pulled out an envelope with a check inside.

"Auntie…" I sighed, turning my head away so she wouldn’t see me biting my lip in excitement.

My allowance!

Screw that flower-petal-picking nonsense. I 'do' have money!

"Take it, Cassidy. Please?" She took my hand and placed the envelope in my palm. "I need your help."

I knew it… I just 'knew' it!

Facing her, I stared at the white envelope, acting like accepting it was a hard decision. But in reality? I couldn’t wait to cash it in and buy everything I wanted.

Of course, every time she gave me money, I had to do something in return… and what was it this time?

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, like a total puppet waiting for my master to pull the strings.

"It’s nothing that 'hard'—"

There was 'that' line again.

The last time she said that, she asked me to get a huge ass tattoo. I never expected myself to stain my skin, but in the name of money, I just did it without thinking it through.

And—oh God—the time before that, she made me send anonymous steamy texts to Johnny just to mess with his head. I had to pretend to be some secret admirer, and that man nearly lost his mind. He started showing up to work all flustered, checking his phone like a high school girl waiting for a crush to text back.

But Johnny Miles forgot all about his secret admirer after a few months. And when I tried to revive it—per Tamara's request—it was already a lost cause. The chance had been forgotten, buried, and completely ignored, like last season’s trends or my dignity after every encounter with him.

I swear, Tamara lives to give her son a migraine. But would that be called as that if Johnny was actually born to be the earth's problem?

After all, Johnny Miles was somewhat an unnecessary addition to this planet's population, but people saw it as a blessing from above because of his face, his body, and his... great size.

And now, I could feel my stomach starting to churn. But I’d do whatever I could for the… money.

I told Tamara my problem was her son, and that it had nothing to do with the money, but… it was like a seesaw. Sometimes, I just wanted to disappear and forget about the money just to get away from Johnny. But sometimes, I was desperate for it, especially when it was shoved right in front of my face.

Indecisive? Yeah. That was me. And if something went south? Well, that was on me too.

"There's a masquerade ball this weekend, and I need to ask you something 'really' important," she began as if none of what she asked me wasn't called "really important", and I could already feel my eye twitching from the suspense.

"'Hard' for me?" I chuckled sheepishly, already dreading what I was about to hear next.

"Remember why I asked you to get the tattoo?" Her voice suddenly went up a few octaves, and she shrank into herself like a guilty child, batting her long lashes at me.

I gulped hard.

That archangel tattoo on my back—the one that made me suffer through an entire night—was going to have a golden reveal just for Johnny Miles.

Oh my Lord, what am I doing with my life?

After meeting Tamara, I went straight home and freed myself from the clothes that had suffocated me like the Sahara all damn day.

An hour-long bath later, I felt refreshed.

Looking in the mirror, I finally saw myself—free from makeup, color, anything. My face looked "common". Nothing special.

I don't even have a mole to decorate my face. My lashes weren't long. My lips were thin, and couldn't even show a sincere smile. My brown eyes were dead. My skin? Pale. Well, at least it was flawless.

"You're pretty, Cassidy. But with half a million dollars... you'll be a superstar," I pouted my lips in my most gorgeous way before sashaying out of the bathroom, towel-drying my hair.

Just as I was about to sit on my bed—the doorbell rang.

I froze.

"And who the hell is this devil?" I muttered, dragging my feet toward the door.

I wasn’t expecting any visitors. Who would visit me? I don't have anyone to do that aside from pests, insects, and air.

I hadn’t called for room service. Who the hell— Tamara? Did she forget to say something?

Peeking through the peephole—

A silent gasp escaped my lips.

My stomach dropped.

It was Johnny.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I whisper-exclaimed, panic washing over me.

I couldn’t let him see me like this! I have to—I have to look odd!

Grabbing the baggy pajamas from my sofa’s backrest— for I don't know how long has it been there, I threw them on, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and pulled on the biggest glasses I could find.

I took one look in the mirror and grimace badly.

"Goodness, Cassidy. You look ridiculous."

The doorbell rang again. Repeatedly like he had plans on breaking it.

"I'm coming!" I yelled, yanking the door open with a scowl on my face—

And there he was.

Johnny Miles, standing at my doorway. Smirking.

"We haven’t even done anything yet, and you’re already coming?" His grin widened.

"I have no plans welcoming any demonic presence in my house."

Suddenly, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned in, voice dropping to a low whisper.

"I know what you've been doing, Cassy babe."

My heart stopped.

Oh. Shit.

What exactly did he know?