onslaught. Elena stood her ground, refusing to take back what she had said, the sting of his words still burning in her ears.
“What the hell did I do to deserve that ?” Neal asked, still reeling.
Elena shook her head in frustration. “What makes you think you’re so much better than that lifestyle? At least those pretentious people you hate so much, did something to earn it, but you? You stand there, enjoying the amenities of a wealthy lifestyle but you won’t associate yourself with it. You know what you are?”
Neal rolled his eyes. “No, but I’ll bet you’re gonna tell me.”
“You’re a hypocrite.”
Neal nodded calmly. “Well, I think the night’s over for the two of us.”
Elena laughed mockingly. “So perceptive. They could use that over at Hargrove Brothers and Company.”
Neal turned his back on her and walked away, still recovering from the sudden turn the night had taken. He didn’t look back, but he heard her call out his name. He paused and turned his head to the side, not bothering to turn all the way around. He was certain she was going to throw another unwarranted insult his way. Elena wanted to walk away immediately so that she would never have to talk to Neal Hargrove again, but hurt pride pushed her to say one more thing to him, before she walked away.
“By the way, that tacky sculpture you hated so much,” Elena said, “I was the sculptor.”
Chapter3
Elena woke the next morning in her studio apartment with the sun blazing in through her thin curtains. She’d put a spare sheet over the windows, but there was still so much light, it woke her earlier than necessary every morning. She turned to her side, putting a pillow over her head, but she was too wide awake now, there was no point in staying in bed.
She got up and had a quick shower. Then she put her pajamas back on and poured herself a cup of strong, black coffee. She sat in her bed, sipping it and wondering how she was going to make this month’s rent. It was due in a week and she knew she couldn’t count on Mitcham.
She wasn’t sure he would pay at all, but if he did, his check would clear only after she had lost the apartment. She had trolled a couple of fancy parties, handing out business cards and attempting to sound as impressive as she could manage, but she suspected that they saw her for what she really was – a desperate woman who was on the verge of losing everything. Elena picked herself up off her bed and readied herself for her shift at the café.
Elena had been waitressing at the corner café for almost a year now. It had been a desperate attempt to keep afloat and still continue her work as a sculptor. She had survived, just barely, in the months afterward, but slowly as her expenses mounted, not even the café job seemed to help.
Elena put on her black denims and a white t-shirt. She walked to work, her mind still groping for a way out, but occasionally, she would flashback to the previous night and her shouting match with Neal Hargrove. Well, it hadn’t been a match, exactly, Elena had mostly yelled and he had just stood there.
Elena still felt a pricking anger when she thought about their conversation. Yes, he was spoiled and privileged without having struggled for any of it, but that was not what got her. What had really struck a nerve, was his criticism. He was so careless with his words, so judgmental, and yet he had done nothing to contribute to his own lifestyle.
He was not responsible for creating anything, so how dare he put down a person who was capable of creating something. His words still echoed in her eyes – tacky. He had used that word. Elena tried to forget it, but the more she tried, the louder the word echoed in her mind.
Elena went through the motions at the café, refilling the cake stands, stocking up supplies in the back and delivering people’s orders. She went through it all