The Billionaire Rejected Me
the old man said, pointing.
“How much?”
“Five pesos for pee, ten for poop,” he answered bluntly.
“Ah, okay, thank you,” I said awkwardly.
Lazarus guided us to the restroom. Zon was young but finicky; we needed to follow proper procedure.
“Your payment?” the old man asked as Lazarus opened the door for men and helped Zon.
I checked my pockets—no coins.
“What? No money? You look rich,” the man grumbled.
“I have some, wait—”