The playboy crush

Shane had never been more embarrassed than he had been the previous week. He had been shunned by a lady—an extremely beautiful lady—who didn't even think twice about drowning in his good looks. Derrari hadn't helped matters either. He had laughed to his fill when he heard of what had happened, but that wasn't what really bothered him. He couldn't get his mind off Lara. His mind kept replaying what she had said, much to his annoyance. You have ruined me. And thanks a lot, okay? Because now I have to lose it all.

What could she mean by that? Was she trying to imply that she could have all she wanted with that ugly dwarf of a man? It was incredible. Preposterous. There had to be more to it. He recalled what George said about a deal being over. That attested to the fact that whatever was going on between the two wasn't based on attraction but more on intimidation, of which Lara was undoubtedly the victim. Why did he even care? He had no idea who she was. Brushing aside his thoughts about her, he settled back on his work but was unable to focus as his mind kept visualizing Lara's tearful face at George's words and what she had said about her life being ruined over that. Frustrated, he shot up from his desk and walked to the window. He needed to stop thinking about her. He looked out the window, taking in the activity of the busy road outside—the swift movement of cars, people perambulating here and there, the gentle breeze of the wind caressing his face—yet his mind flickered to Lara. Heaving out a sigh, he made his way back to his seat. He needed to gain control of his mind again and forget about her, and there was only one way that could be possible. Picking up his cellphone, he dialed Derrari's number while shutting down his laptop. "Are you up for a drink?" "No problem," Derrari replied. A few hours later, he was in 'The Broken Shaker' with his buddy, swigging cups of beer. "Man, I can't believe you haven't gotten over the lady yet. I'm really disappointed, though. I already made a bet that you would have gotten over your obsession with her and gone back to shagging bitches by now," Derrari said. "You can't understand." Shane took a drink from his cup. "Yes, I can't," Derrari agreed, his voice laced with sarcasm, "as I've not been bewitched as you have been. There are hundreds of ladies out there, all ready to be at your service." "Made-up beauties," Shane corrected. He leaned back with a sigh. "There's just that thing about her." "She's exceptionally beautiful; you can't set your mind straight, blah-blah." Derrari rolled his eyes. He had heard those words without counting over the previous week. "Although, truth be told, she is ethereally beautiful," he admitted. "I can't believe a man like that," he chuckled, "is her fiance." He laughed, recalling Shane's description of the man. "Man, you're good." He could picture the man in his head in the explicit way he had been described by Shane. Shane looked pensively, ignoring Derrari's jest. "She needs help," he thought aloud. "She needs to be helped." "Alright. Prince Charming to the rescue! Am I here to be bored with your silly talks about your infatuation with a stranger, or to have fun?" "Both," Shane answered. "I can't stop thinking about her, and I need to get my mind off her. The only way that can be achieved is this." He raised his cup in the air in Derrari's direction and took a long gulp, emptying the contents of the cup and refilling it with another serving from the bottle. "Suit yourself, then," Derrari told him, tipping his cup in his direction before swigging its contents down his throat. "Ah!" Despite all Shane's attempts to drown out the thoughts of Lara, his mind kept torturing him by bringing up images of Lara's tearful face, his subconscious mind never ceasing to remind him that he was to blame for it. After futile attempts at trying not to care, he finally threw in the towel. He had gone back to the bar and requested an audience with the owner, who had helped him source the CCTV footage from the night. Upon sighting her, he directed the man to zoom in on her and had her picture saved on his phone. Tipping the man handsomely for his help, he thanked him and employed his private investigator to find out what exactly was the deal with her and why her life would be ruined over the fact that George cancelled the deal between them. ★★★ Lara counted the money she had with her with a heavy heart as she approached the place texted to her by George's henchman to make the rendezvous. She grumbled at how crazy it was. Someone else had taken up the loan; someone else had died over it; and she was stuck paying a loan she had never obtained. She had known her father from childhood to be a good-for-nothing and irresponsible fellow. He never took part in taking care of the household or funding her education. All he ever did was splurge the little he was able to get on drinking, gambling, and chasing after 'chicken-legged and pork-hipped ladies'. If only her mom had listened to her advice and divorced him, she could have lived and as well spared her the misery of toiling around, trying to pay a debt she couldn't dream of paying up— if ever—with the menial jobs, from which she earned meager incomes, she had, but she said she loved him, and he would come around someday to his senses. Well, even with her dead, he hadn't come back to his senses. She sniffed and held back tears at the memory of her mom's death. The bastard of a man, whom she called her husband, was the reason why she had died. Still suffering from the shock of his elopement with a younger woman, the loan sharks had come to inform her about the loan he had obtained before his elopement, with her as collateral. She was in high school then. Her mom had broken into hysterical sobs at the thought of losing her daughter following the loss of her husband. Her mom had worked virtually all day and night to save up enough to sustain both of them, ensured she did not drop out of school, and had given her all into working off her bones to raise money for the loan as well as for their upkeep. She had also taken up part-time jobs after school to assist her mom in shouldering the burden. However, her mom eventually died from stress and exertion a year after her graduation from high school. "How much do you have there?" One of George's henchmen demanded, taking the envelope in her hand. "Ten thousand dollars," she replied flatly. She paid on a three-month basis. She received an hourly wage from the jobs she shuffled together—five, to be exact—working overtime occasionally. Adding up her savings and the tips from her friends, she had been able to save up that much. She wouldn't think about how much her father had cost her with his useless act. If she had invested all the money she had been handing over to George and his henchmen from the time she took up the burden of paying up the loan solely, she would have been on the track to becoming a billionaire by now. The envelope was flung back at her. "What the hell do you think this is?" "Money, idiot! What else would it be?" She retorted. Working over the years with pent-up frustration at just working with hardly any saving for herself had changed her from the sweet little girl she once was to the depressed lady who channeled her emotion into anger and rage. "You watch your mouth there," he warned. "Do we look like thrift collectors? You owe over two million dollars, yet you are here with that." He snickered. She scoffed. Was he kidding her? "I've paid over two million dollars, and you are telling me sh*t about still owing the same two million dollars. You are crazy. Senile!" She spat. "Shut the fuck up!" he growled, plastering a gun to her forehead. "I'll blow your pretty damned head off right now, if I could." Lara smiled. "Shoot me," she challenged. "Shoot me, bastard!" She kicked him on the knee. Death was most welcome to her at the moment. At least she would be free from having to continue with her miserable life. She had no life, precisely. Groaning with a curse under his breath, he pushed her roughly to the ground and fired into the air, his gaze fixed on her with a murderous glare and a furious scowl on his face. A black SUV screeched to a halt on the premises, its door pulled open by one of his goons, who had immediately gotten down from the car and moved swiftly to open the door for his boss. George stepped out of the car and ordered, "Stop!" The shooting ceased. Lara scrambled to her feet. "Geor.." She was hushed by a death glare from George. "Don't you dare!" He hissed through his teeth, and his hands balled tightly into fists. "Let me explain," she pleaded, desperation taking over reasoning. "You have a week to pay up your loan or else..." He gave a warning look if otherwise, turned abruptly, and headed back to his car. "What did I do to deserve this?" She cried. "I never took up the loan. Why am I being threatened over it while the bastard who is responsible for all this is somewhere enjoying himself?" She was fed up. She was tired of being extorted. She had spent her life working to pay up a loan that wasn't hers, but despite all that, she had never come close to paying the real money thanks to the interest that accumulated over the years. All the money she had paid was still interest to them; if she had invested it in a business, she would have a greater chance of being financially stable at present. George turned back to face her with a smirk on his face. "You are the collateral, and you should be appreciative of the fact that I'm giving you another chance to help yourself out despite your betrayal." "It.." George raised a hand to hush her. "I want no more of your tantrums. The next time I see your face, either be with my money or say goodbye to your misery-filled life here. Look forward to your new life in Japan. You will enjoy it, I bet." He covered the distance to his car, followed by his henchman, got in, and was driven off. Lara watched as the car zoomed off, tears spilling down her cheeks as she knew deep down that there was no hope for her.