Some Nights I Wake Up Cashing In My Bad Luck Novels & Stories

From bad to worse. I enter the office and sit in the chair in front of him, separated by a light wooden desk. Maybe he won't strangle me with the desk. I start talking before he does. "I'm really sorry, sir, but bad luck is attracted to me like a moth to a flame. You know when you walk, step on a gum on the pavement, and when you lift your foot, the gum sticks to both the sole of your shoe and the street? And you know when you try to remove the gum from your shoe, but it won't come off even with a miracle?" I give him a moment to picture the situation. "Well, I'm the person who steps on the gum, only instead of gum, I stepped on bad luck at birth, and despite all my attempts to get it off th

She planned to go to Craig privately and pay him to take the full blame himself. Wade had other ideas. While Aunt Sandra slept, he stole the debit card with $100,000 on it. His logic: one big bet at an underground casino, win it all back, recover the house and the car in a single night. He lost every cent. Then borrowed another $100,000 from the house at loan-shark rates to try again. Aunt Sandra woke up to nothing. When she found out what he'd done, she vomited blood on the spot and collapsed.

But, at this point, what goodluck could a girl in her early twenties expect from a life that has already cursed her with loneliness, a salary that couldn't even afford to feed pigeons, a house that's breaking down faster than her sanity, and now, a crazed stalking killer following her in the middle of the night. “Better watch some TV and clear my head,” I resolve as I climb onto my bed. Carefully. The joints of the wood are already creaking and if I break this bed again, I may have to spend another three months lying down on the erosioned floors of my one bedroom apartment. And trust me when I say it, there is nothing fun about that. You'd just end up waking up with bruises and sand all over

“You’re digging your own grave, brother.” The dealer shuffled lazily. Tshepo wiped sweat from his forehead. If I win tonight, I’ll clear the debt. If I lose… He didn’t finish the thought. Hours later, Tshepo had nothing left. When the last card hit the table and the royal flush crushed his hopes, he almost vomited. The dealer leaned in close, his breath foul. “Tomorrow. Midnight. Have the money, or we’ll come collect.” As Tshepo stumbled out, bruised and empty, he cursed under his breath:

“Well damn, that must have been one hell of a wet dream. I guess I had it coming.” I slung my feet over the edge of my bed and placed them on the floor beneath me. I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh, yeah. It was… one hell of a dream. You ready to work out?” “Yeah, whenever you are. Hades is already high so with good luck we won’t have to see his ugly face today.” At those words Drake and I made eye contact when we heard Cash and his gang change the song they were singing to the chorus of Tom Jones’ Slow hand.

The thought of the other omega leaving my mind pretty instantly. The smell of cash crashes into my senses and I strip naked and lock my door. I pull the sheets back and look down on the fortune in my bed. I slide into bed and roll around in the cash. My body heaves and bucks as the cash on my skin sends explosions all around me. I wrap myself in my covers, cash falling over me and I pass out into a deep sleep. Maggie’s face swam around in my dreams. What is going on?

RPOV Songs: Ride this Out by Imaginary Cities The realization of what I had gotten myself into last night was enough to clear away any of the haze brought on by the whiskey, sobering me up faster than falling into a frozen pond. Which is why I was surprised by the sickening feeling overcoming me the next day. It must have been some kind of emotional hangover rather than physical. I guess that's what I deserved for acting like a complete idiot—not to mention desperate hussy.

This place is dangerous and I don't want to be a victim of the bad things I've been hearing about people disappearing when they step on the wrong foot of the dealers. So I just grabbed the cash, stuffed it into my bag, and walked out without another word, my vision blurred with angry tears.The night air hit me like ice as I stepped back into the dirty street. My hands shook as I clutched the money which I knew it was nowhere near enough to satisfy Victor Crane but it was something. Fear gripped my chest. I was angry at Jake for abandoning me and putting me into this mess, I was mad at Daniel for discarding me, at myself for ever believing I could live this expensive lifestyle without consequ

--- I dumped my cat and luggage at the bar where I worked and spent the whole day chasing this debt. Lawyers. Offices. Banks. Demons disguised as financial institutions. Turns out the debt wasn’t 500,000. It was three million. People inherit fortunes. I inherited debt. Did I mention fate could kiss my ass? And when I thought the universe was done— It wasn’t. Two days later, while I was singing on stage, two strangers dragged me off by force. Turns out I owed another two million to a crime syndicate. Because why the hell not?

It just reinforces everything I already know. People are dicks, and nobody gives a fuck. Not Bill and Rosie, and not Margaretha either. I’d leave tonight if the memory of my ice-block feet this morning wasn’t still fresh. I’d wait until he passed out and slip past him, maybe try to find some cash to take with me on the way. Cash or drugs to sell. I’m sure I could get a decent price for them, just to set me up. “Ain’t you gonna watch this with me?” he grunts, and I curse that he knows I’m still awake.