Live For This
By Author – Kathryn R. Biel
Samirah Lundgren is living the party girl life. While she’s trying to forget about her past and put off having a meaningful future, her lifestyle catches up with her, leaving her in a wake of personal destruction. Alone and homeless, she encounters Michael Salinger, a man carrying his own baggage in the form of a spinal cord injury, not to mention his former fiancé is marrying his former best friend.
Can a man with a broken body and a woman with a broken soul help each other find the redemption they need to become whole again?
“What time do you have to be at work?” Meadow puffs. The spin class is ramping up and soon we won’t be able to breathe, let alone chat.
“Four,” I mutter, “just like every Saturday.”
The overly perky instructor hollers out instructions, and the pace picks up. I hate this part. I hate spinning. I know, exercise is supposed to make me feel good and shit, but I’d rather be doing something else. Like Zumba. But that is “so suburban” according to Meadow, and we are adamantly opposed to anything that might be popular in the suburbs. Zumba’s fun. It reminds me of the aerobics classes I used to go to with my mom when I was growing up. This is like torture. I guess I should consider myself lucky that Meadow doesn’t want to bulk up. Otherwise, she’d be killing me with CrossFit. Kettlebells and dead lifting three times my body weight? No, thank you.
Finally, the agony ends. We’ve still got to do our ab workout. Five-hundred crunches. And then we can go.
By the time my gym penance is paid, the clock reads one p.m. Ugh. I’ll barely have enough time to go home, shower, and eat before I have to go to work. No rest for the weary.
Meadow and I part ways. She’s going tanning and to get her extensions tweaked or fixed or whatever. She’s got a gig working as a shot girl at a club’s grand opening tonight. She’ll make a killing and no doubt come home with a crapload of phone numbers. She’s in between boyfriends at the moment, which is unusual for her. She typically doesn’t trade one in until the next one is solidly lined up. She miscalculated with her last boyfriend, Scott. I think she was trying to make him jealous to push him into more of a commitment. He, apparently, wasn’t having any of that manipulation and walked away. When she gets drunk, Meadow still booty calls him, or at least attempts to. He’s been brutally rebuffing her. I think her ego is hurt. Maybe even her heart. If she has one.
Once upon a time, I used to have friends that I cared about. I mean, it’s not like I want Meadow to get hurt—I don’t. I’m more sort of … indifferent … about her. We’re friends of convenience. She did take me under her wing when I first arrived. Dumb, naive me, thinking I would hop off the bus and be offered a fantastic job right away. That it wouldn’t matter that I’d dropped out of college. What an idiot I’d been.
Meadow needed a roommate, I needed a room. I had a little money left, and it was enough to keep me going until I got this job. Meadow took odd jobs here and there to supplement her modeling career. I think, somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I’d thought that I could always model to make ends meet if I couldn’t find a “real” job. Again, what an idiot I’d been.
I don’t think Meadow cares about me either. I think she keeps me close so that I’m not competition. She did introduce me to Chase. It’s a fact she never lets me forget either. “I practically gave him to you on a platter. You owe me.” If Meadow’s said that once, she’s said it a thousand times. In reality, I think she pushed me toward him, knowing he was truly unavailable, but would still get me off the market. So that men she was interested in wouldn’t be tempted by me. I’d be attached—it didn’t matter to whom—and wouldn’t be in her way of the desirable men. And, I don’t think she wanted Chase for herself. She doesn’t want to be the arm candy for a married man. In other words, two birds, one stone.
Meadow is one of the most superficial people I’ve ever met. I think Scott is the only person who Meadow’s actually cared about in a very long time. She won’t be making that mistake again. I’m not proud to say that I’ve become just like her. In some ways, it’s much easier to care about my hair and shoes and who-said-what than actual things that matter. Convictions. Morals. Ethics. Family. Not that I have any family to care about.
Work is uneventful. It’s a job. It pays the bills. Sometimes, it even does more than that. I wear a low-cut black scoop neck T-shirt that shows more than enough of my cleavage. It skims my midriff, showing just a hint of skin. Skin tight black pants and black ankle booties complete the look. I graciously accept under-the-table tips from those eager for a better table, as well as from those business men who think they’ll actually get somewhere with me. Yeah right. Like I’d go slumming with the likes of anyone who would try and hit on the hostess.
That’s why I’m glad I have Chase. He has so much class. He’s refined.
While being the Saturday night hostess at Crush has its advantages, it’s certainly not where I pictured myself. Even celebrities are beholden to me, if they want that private table, or if they want the one that will get them seen. It’s all a game with them, and I’m the referee. Hell, I’m the coach, calling the plays. I know it sounds cocky. Maybe it is. Apparently, men will do anything to sleep with me. Like, anything. And we all know that men think with their dicks. How else do you think I landed this job?
I’m the worst kind of girl there is. Even worse than a whore. I’m a cock tease. I know I have no intention of putting out, but I don’t let the guy know that. I’ll keep it going until I get what I want, and then I cut him loose. But the fitted shirt, exposed cleavage, and a butt wiggle go a long way. Yeah, I know it’s wrong that I trade in on my looks. But frankly, it’s the only commodity I have at this point. No family. No home. I dropped out of college. Not by choice, of course, but I’m a dropout nonetheless. I hated my major—business administration. It wasn’t my cup of tea. Doesn’t matter either way. No money, no tuition, no place to live. College was last on the priority list.
Buy the Book:
About the Author:
Kathryn Biel hails from Upstate New York, and is a spouse and mother of two wonderful, but exhausting kids. In between being Chief Home Officer and Director of Child Development of the Biel household, she works as a school-based physical therapist. She attended Boston University and received her Doctorate in Physical Therapy from The Sage Colleges. After years of writing countless letters of medical necessity for wheelchairs, finding increasingly creative ways to encourage the government and insurance companies to fund her client’s needs, and writing entertaining annual Christmas letters, she decided to take a shot at writing the kind of novel that she likes to read. Her musings and rants can also be found on her personal blog, Biel Blather.
Find her here:
Visit All the Tour Stops:
Enrayn – https://enrayn.wordpress.com/ – Book Review/Promo
Hello Beautiful Book Blog – http://hellobeautifulbookblog.com – Book Excerpt
Book Lover in Florida – https://bookloverfl12.wordpress.com/ – Book Review/Promo
Sweet Little Pretties – sweetlittlepretties.com – Book Review/Promo
I Read What You Write – https://ireadwhatyouwrite.wordpress.com – Book Review/Promo
Hello Chick Lit – http://hellochicklit.com – Book Excerpt
Book Groupies – http://bookgroupies2.blogspot.com/ – Promo Post