Bad Rep
Page 1
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Chapter 1
“Damn it!” I yelled after opening the very business-like white envelope that now lay in a crumpled heap on my apartment floor. My roommate, Riley, poked her head in from the hallway, her brown hair rumpled from her two hour nap.
“Everything alright, Mays?” Riley asked, frowning. I rubbed my hand over my face, pushing my bangs back from my forehead in an agonized gesture.
“Yeah, everything is just peachy. Except that I’m now going to have to get a second job,” I bit out sarcastically. Throwing the piece of paper onto the coffee table and leaning backwards on the horribly ugly yellow and green couch that came cheap, courtesy of the local good will.
Riley Walker, my best friend since our freshman year at Rinard College in Bakersville, Virginia and recently acquired roomie, picked up the discarded letter and read it quickly. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked at me in shock.
“3500 dollars! Maysie Ardin, are you freaking crazy? Did you take a trip to Vegas without me knowing?” My answering scowl was the only reply given. Okay, so I had been a little excessive in the shopping department. But I had really thought the new clothes and that adorable Vitamin A bikini had been essential for my weekend trip to Virginia Beach with two of my sorority sisters.
I just hadn’t realized how trigger happy my swiping hand had become. But the monthly credit card statement screamed at me that I had been way too lax on the whole self-control thing during the last thirty days.
MyVisa was supposed to be used “in emergencies only.” My parents had given me a 5,000 dollar limit, stressing that I was NEVER to even think about using it. Unless I was broken down on the side of a deserted highway with a serial killer hot on my tail.
Not even I could explain how I justified my Manolo Blahnik heeled sandals as an emergency. But damn, they had looked amazing with my fitted red sundress. Too bad I had broken the heel the same night I wore them for the first time. I cringed inwardly at the memory.
The parentals had received last month's bill and had forwarded it to me with a very nasty letter attached. They were not happy. Not that they were ever happy with anything that I did. But this time they were thermal nuclear. They expected me to pay for it. And every month after that until I could prove fiscal responsibility.
The obnoxious thing was that for once, I understood why my parents were pissed at me. And I could see how making me pay the bill was reasonable. And that just irritated me even more.
It was probably because this kind of spending wasn’t the norm. Yeah, I love designer shoes and handbags as much as the next twenty year old, soon to be college junior. But I had spinelessly allowed myself to be talked into one too many shopping trips with my new sisters at the Chi Delta sorority. And those girls didn’t spend lightly. I hadn't been making the best choices lately; that had become very apparent.
I groaned. “No, if I had been to Vegas, I wouldn’t feel like such shit.” I lifted my foot to admire another pair of my insanely expensive pieces of footwear. Which I hated to admit didn’t look so amazing as they had the first time I had put them on my feet. In truth, I now felt like a Grade A moron.
Riley rolled her eyes. “You did not buy yourself those obnoxiously overpriced shoes did you? I mean really, Mays...they’re probably made by tiny little child laborers in the South Pacific somewhere. You could feed a family of four for a month with how much those things cost. You have caved to the man, my friend.” I threw a pillow at Riley, who caught it and tossed it back. I was used to Riley’s never ending rants about the evil caste/Greek system at our school and how disappointed she was that I had been lured into their succubus-like hold. I would never admit to her how much her biting criticism hurt my feelings. So instead I tried to blow it off.
“I know, alright. Enough with the soap box rant. I just have to figure out how the hell I’m going to make enough money to pay it off and still have some sort of a life this summer.” I tugged my dark hair out of its ponytail and got to my feet. Everything would make sense after a shower.
“Can’t you get more hours at Bibi’s?” Riley suggested, following me into the kitchen. I shook my head as I opened the refrigerator looking for my bottle of Fanta.
“Shit Ri! Did you drink all of my Fanta again?” I asked, feeling irrationally pissed about the fact that my best friend continued to eat and drink my stuff, even though she had her own food in the cabinet.
Riley shrugged, not letting me change the subject.
“So, you gonna ask your manager for more hours? That seems like the most logical thing to do.” Riley suggested, reaching around me to grab the bag of grapes on the top shelf.
I took one of Riley’s sodas and popped the tab, daring her to remark about it. Riley wisely stayed quiet. “I’ve maxed my hours there already to pay for my fall sorority dues. There’s no way Layne will give me any more and let me stay part time. And I can’t go full time and juggle my summer school classes. The shop is only open until six.” I loved my job at Bibi’s, a vintage clothing boutique in downtown Bakersville. My boss, Layne, who was also a part owner, was easy to work for. But there was no way I could pinch any more time there without bailing on my classes. And I needed to take those classes and do well.
Ihad stupidly gotten D’s in biology and statistics last spring during rush and I was in danger of losing my scholarship. It was very unlike me to do so poorly. Now my parents were threatening to yank me out of school all together and make me attend the local community college back home in Morganstown, South Carolina.
“Damn it!” I yelled after opening the very business-like white envelope that now lay in a crumpled heap on my apartment floor. My roommate, Riley, poked her head in from the hallway, her brown hair rumpled from her two hour nap.
“Everything alright, Mays?” Riley asked, frowning. I rubbed my hand over my face, pushing my bangs back from my forehead in an agonized gesture.
“Yeah, everything is just peachy. Except that I’m now going to have to get a second job,” I bit out sarcastically. Throwing the piece of paper onto the coffee table and leaning backwards on the horribly ugly yellow and green couch that came cheap, courtesy of the local good will.
Riley Walker, my best friend since our freshman year at Rinard College in Bakersville, Virginia and recently acquired roomie, picked up the discarded letter and read it quickly. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked at me in shock.
“3500 dollars! Maysie Ardin, are you freaking crazy? Did you take a trip to Vegas without me knowing?” My answering scowl was the only reply given. Okay, so I had been a little excessive in the shopping department. But I had really thought the new clothes and that adorable Vitamin A bikini had been essential for my weekend trip to Virginia Beach with two of my sorority sisters.
I just hadn’t realized how trigger happy my swiping hand had become. But the monthly credit card statement screamed at me that I had been way too lax on the whole self-control thing during the last thirty days.
MyVisa was supposed to be used “in emergencies only.” My parents had given me a 5,000 dollar limit, stressing that I was NEVER to even think about using it. Unless I was broken down on the side of a deserted highway with a serial killer hot on my tail.
Not even I could explain how I justified my Manolo Blahnik heeled sandals as an emergency. But damn, they had looked amazing with my fitted red sundress. Too bad I had broken the heel the same night I wore them for the first time. I cringed inwardly at the memory.
The parentals had received last month's bill and had forwarded it to me with a very nasty letter attached. They were not happy. Not that they were ever happy with anything that I did. But this time they were thermal nuclear. They expected me to pay for it. And every month after that until I could prove fiscal responsibility.
The obnoxious thing was that for once, I understood why my parents were pissed at me. And I could see how making me pay the bill was reasonable. And that just irritated me even more.
It was probably because this kind of spending wasn’t the norm. Yeah, I love designer shoes and handbags as much as the next twenty year old, soon to be college junior. But I had spinelessly allowed myself to be talked into one too many shopping trips with my new sisters at the Chi Delta sorority. And those girls didn’t spend lightly. I hadn't been making the best choices lately; that had become very apparent.
I groaned. “No, if I had been to Vegas, I wouldn’t feel like such shit.” I lifted my foot to admire another pair of my insanely expensive pieces of footwear. Which I hated to admit didn’t look so amazing as they had the first time I had put them on my feet. In truth, I now felt like a Grade A moron.
Riley rolled her eyes. “You did not buy yourself those obnoxiously overpriced shoes did you? I mean really, Mays...they’re probably made by tiny little child laborers in the South Pacific somewhere. You could feed a family of four for a month with how much those things cost. You have caved to the man, my friend.” I threw a pillow at Riley, who caught it and tossed it back. I was used to Riley’s never ending rants about the evil caste/Greek system at our school and how disappointed she was that I had been lured into their succubus-like hold. I would never admit to her how much her biting criticism hurt my feelings. So instead I tried to blow it off.
“I know, alright. Enough with the soap box rant. I just have to figure out how the hell I’m going to make enough money to pay it off and still have some sort of a life this summer.” I tugged my dark hair out of its ponytail and got to my feet. Everything would make sense after a shower.
“Can’t you get more hours at Bibi’s?” Riley suggested, following me into the kitchen. I shook my head as I opened the refrigerator looking for my bottle of Fanta.
“Shit Ri! Did you drink all of my Fanta again?” I asked, feeling irrationally pissed about the fact that my best friend continued to eat and drink my stuff, even though she had her own food in the cabinet.
Riley shrugged, not letting me change the subject.
“So, you gonna ask your manager for more hours? That seems like the most logical thing to do.” Riley suggested, reaching around me to grab the bag of grapes on the top shelf.
I took one of Riley’s sodas and popped the tab, daring her to remark about it. Riley wisely stayed quiet. “I’ve maxed my hours there already to pay for my fall sorority dues. There’s no way Layne will give me any more and let me stay part time. And I can’t go full time and juggle my summer school classes. The shop is only open until six.” I loved my job at Bibi’s, a vintage clothing boutique in downtown Bakersville. My boss, Layne, who was also a part owner, was easy to work for. But there was no way I could pinch any more time there without bailing on my classes. And I needed to take those classes and do well.
Ihad stupidly gotten D’s in biology and statistics last spring during rush and I was in danger of losing my scholarship. It was very unlike me to do so poorly. Now my parents were threatening to yank me out of school all together and make me attend the local community college back home in Morganstown, South Carolina.
