The Playboy's Arrangement

Ashley

"I need a fucking break!" I moaned, burying my head in the sheaf of papers littering my small desk.

My table was filled with mails, invoices, and several bills I was behind on. That was all my life had dwindled to now: a state of never-ending bills.

At this rate, I'd probably give it over to my children to inherit.

Scrubbing my blurry eyes with the back of my hand, I took a heaving breath refocusing my gaze on the computer while I scrolled through the recent list of job offers.

Bemoaning the state of my finances wasn't going to help me.

I was just about to give up after thirty minutes of fruitless searching and call it a night when my phone rang.

I had half a mind to ignore it, but the thought struck me that it could be my sister calling about Mom.

Mom!

I bolted out of my chair so fast, that my vision spun for about a second before I righted myself.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone breathlessly, my little stunt taking the wind out of me.

"Ashley, is that you?" The voice of Cynthia Murray, the contractor on private events echoed over the phone.

My heart almost skipped a beat.

She only calls when there's a job available.

"Um...yes, uhh..this is she." I stumbled out.

"Oh, okay good." She stopped momentarily and I could hear the noise in the background drowning out the sounds of her talking. "Are you with me?" Her voice came over the phone again, loud and clear.

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, are you available?" She chuckled nervously, probably aware of how she sounded. "For a job. There's a bit of overload and not enough helping hands.

So, are you free?"

I glanced at the clock. 7 pm. "Is the rate still the same?"

She hesitated, before answering weekly. "Yes."

"Then yes, I'm available." I cheered silently.

"Be there in 10." The warmth in her tone had gone. "I'll send someone down to help you."

She hung up.

I stared at my phone in amazement, wondering how someone could be so rude but shrugged it off, jumping into action.

I twisted my long hair into a bun atop my head and jumped into the shower.

Two minutes later, after the quickest shower known to man, I donned casual clothes slipping my feet into my well-worn flats.

I grabbed everything I needed and ran downstairs, flagging a cab the moment I spotted one.

Usually, I would save the cab fare and walk but Mrs Cynthia was already crankier than usual, and I was not looking forward to adding to that.

I looked out the window, watching the cab inch forward to the address Cynthia had sent to me, distantly wondering when I would stop worrying about money.

Working with Cynthia is only one of the many odd jobs I'm currently doing aside from working in a local coffee shop during the day.

At night, I pick whatever job comes my way for extra cash. For a normal person that would be enough to live on, but when you have an ailing parent and two younger ones who depend on you for survival, you have no choice but to engage in multiple jobs.

"You're here ma'am." The cab driver jolted me from my depressing thoughts. I flash him a smile, handing him his cash.

At the entrance was a tall, skinny kid who looked like he was waiting for me, flagging me down the moment I got close.

"This way," he led me through the back entrance- the kitchen- and pointed towards a serving dress, complete with the hat and shoes.

"Where's Cynthia?" I yelled at his retreating, but if the kid heard me he showed no sign of responding.

I quickly changed, applying light makeup so my face didn't look quite as dull underneath the harsh, fluorescent lights.

I picked up a tray, expertly balancing it between my palm and shoulder blades.

I pushed past the door, took a deep breath, and walked into another world.

I resisted the urge to gawk and soak in the rich, opulent surroundings and glided forward on the spotless white tiles.

I caught sight of Sofia, one of my colleagues that I was close with mingling discreetly with the guests while handing out water, wine, or whatever refreshment caught the guests' interest.

I walked over to the bar and cocktail stand, feeling out of place without a direction or order.

Cynthia was nowhere to be found either.

"You new?" The bartender, whose name tag read Jake peered at me while he poured drinks into a glass.

"I'm sorry, what?" I leaned in so I could hear him better over the din.

"I asked if you're new." He nods to my empty tray. "Haven't seen you before."

"Yeah, I-"

"There you are!" Cynthia's voice which was a mix of irritation and relief cut me short. "You're super late!" She fiddled with her purse, drawing out a clean handkerchief to dab at her neck.

I opened my mouth to say something but she cut me off with a wave of her hand. "Anyhows, that doesn't matter." Holding me firmly, she turned me to face the left-hand side of the hall.

"You see there," she pointed. I had no idea where she was pointing at but I 'hmmed' to go along. "Serve them your best cognac, apple cider, and some cocktails."

With that instruction, she left me.

Confused and disoriented, I packed several drinks into my tray, nervously inching towards a table in that direction.

"Drinks?" I murmured, keeping my voice low so as not to interrupt the men whose heads were bowed low in conversation.

The man closest to me lifted his head, and I was struck by how beautiful he looked.

Soft, wavy dark hair tumbled down his forehead framing those strong cheekbones and jawline.

He was ridiculously hot, but what caught my attention was his voice.

"We won't be needing anything, angel." The words rolled off his velvety, smooth palate and I was so out of it, I squeaked and turned on my heel quickly.

Unfortunately, my heel caught on the tablecloth, and it all happened in slow motion.

The drinks falling out of my hands.

Me screaming like a banshee, and the horrified face of the handsome man.

Oh, shit.