The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(4)

Even though this wasn't going to magically make thousands of dollars suddenly appear in her bank account, it was a step towards some sort of solution. Even if it was just a solution to her burning need to unload on someone.

Just moping about in bed also felt good, but it usually led to just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, and that definitely wasn't going to get her the money she needed.

So, just shy of twenty minutes later, Gwen stepped into the busy corner Starbucks and out of the only slightly lessened downpour outside. The brief walk kept her from getting soaked again, but the bottoms of her jeans did get wet, and she could already feel the quick drying and straightening she'd done on her hair turning to frizz.

Beatrice waved her over to a set of comfy chairs she'd somehow managed to commandeer. Gwen never got those chairs; they always seemed occupied by middle-aged men in business suits sipping at espressos, pretending to read the Wall Street Journal while they actually just watched the cute young baristas make drinks behind the counter.

Beatrice had them banished to the less comfortable chairs and tables farther back in the coffee shop, and they shot resentful glances her way that she ignored.

"How much did you say it was again?" Beatrice said, sipping from her grande mocha. She'd bought Gwen a grande vanilla latte, which sat steaming on the little table.

"Around $5000," Gwen answered, sitting down. It felt like someone had loaded about 5000 pounds worth of lead into her stomach, which currently tried to pull her through the tile floor.

Beatrice swallowed some of her mocha, then whistled at the number.

"Not helping," Gwen said.

"Yeah, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just... wow. Man, that just makes me wish Janice was here, I'd..." Beatrice set her mocha down and wrung an imaginary Janice's neck. It was quite a thorough and realistic demonstration.

Gwen couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, me too. But something tells me she's already far away. And I bet she's already spent all the money, too."

"You know, I always thought she was a jerk. You really should've come and stayed at my apartment."

Gwen forestalled that argument. They'd tried to live together after first year, renting a basement apartment below a bungalow together. But they were just fundamentally incompatible as roommates. Gwen liked things tidy. Beatrice let the dishes pile up for a week. Gwen liked to get up and turn her alarm off right away. Beatrice liked to doze in bed for an extra half hour, her radio blaring. To cut the story short, they decided to save their friendship by agreeing to not live together any more.

Though, Gwen doubted that Beatrice would have tried to make off with the rent money on her.

"Maybe, but unfortunately they haven't invented time travel yet, B. What am I supposed to do in the here and now?" Gwen said.


"I wish I could loan you the money, but I just don't have it," Beatrice said. Gwen knew that she would have, but she also knew that Beatrice only did a little better in the financial department than she did. And Gwen wasn't about to put her best friend into a deep debt hole just to save herself.

"What about your mom and dad?" Beatrice said.

"The bank of mom and dad's been closed for a while," Gwen said. Her parents were nice enough to her, but they hated each other. She'd just started college when they started the divorce. Apparently, they’d just been holding it together for her. Any money they had went to lawyer fees. If she was lucky, one or the other might let her stay with them, but they both lived too far outside the city. She'd have to leave school to do that, and that wasn't an option to her. She told Beatrice as much.

"Lame," she answered. Then she perked up, slopping some mocha out onto her hand and licking it off. "But hey, if you can't fix it, you should try to forget it for a bit. I wanted to get in touch because I got a line on a big party going down tonight..."

"I don't have time to party, B. Besides, we're not freshmen anymore," Gwen said, finally taking a sip from her latte. She savored it, knowing that she wouldn't be able to afford another one for months.

"Oh, come on. It's perfect! You're not gonna get anything done today. So just come with me and get some of this stuff out of your system. Who knows, maybe there'll be some cute rich boy with too much of daddy's money and too little sense."

"B! I'm not about to..." Gwen started.

But Beatrice cut her off with a laugh. "Oh, Gwen, still so easy to bug. And take it from me, rich guys are all jerks. You're way better off figuring out a way to fix this on your own."

"I just had to make sure. Sometimes it's hard to tell if you're being serious or not," Gwen said.

This earned her an indignant look from her friend. "What? Moi, joke around too much? Why Gwendolyn Eveline..."

"That's not my middle name..."

Gwen's middle name was, in actuality, Gladys, which she had unfortunately inherited from her maternal grandmother. It was a secret she intended to take to her grave. Which just made Beatrice want to find out all the more. Beatrice always tried out a different middle name, hoping to hit the proverbial pay dirt.

"...Browning. How could you make such a claim?" Beatrice said, doing her best offended Southern belle impression. It was pretty funny, seeing as Beatrice was from Yonkers and sounded like it.

"Well now I know. And I really don't have time for a party."