Read Dirty Beautiful Rich Part Three for Free Online Page B

to face the box and the fact she’d tried for three whole weeks to eat nothing but liquid. For him.
    Truthfully, she hadn’t wanted to go out tonight. She’d have way preferred staying home and binge watching something on her laptop but Stella had been insistent. And Stella usually got what she wanted. Besides, a proper man hate was in order and so, she’d maneuvered herself into her one sparkly, slightly too tight, club dress, pulled on leggings to protect the world from her less than svelte thighs, and finally buckled her feet into shoes that might have doubled for stripper heels. Why designers thought women shouldn’t really be able to walk was beyond her, but she wanted to look as good as she could.
    Down the hall, she balanced the box with her knee then pushed the elevator button several times. She really needed to move or one day she was going to die in an elevator accident. Though there was a certificate that said the thing was serviced last year she had her doubts.  The green elevator door shuddered open and she stepped in, wincing at the strange odor like sweat and old curry that always seemed to hang out in the small depressing space.
    As soon as the doors opened at ground level, she charged outside, feeling like she was walking the gauntlet with her contraband.
    Icy wind bit through her thin leggings and cheap coat as she headed out into the winter night. God she wished she could afford a garage. Colorado winters were not great for high heels and jumping into a car and just heading out. Nope. First she’d have to haul out her snow brush and clean the car off.
    But what with her student loan debt at a massive sixty-five thousand dollars and a personal loan at twenty thousand, she couldn’t exactly afford a place with a covered parking lot. She was lucky she had a reserved spot. She was even luckier she’d bought herself a Honda before her world had gone to hell a few years ago.
    Going as fast as she dared in her heels, she focused on the dumpster, wishing she could fling Derrick into it instead. She let out a breath, hating that she had to think about him. How could she have thought he actually cared about her?
    She’d just been one of many girls he kept on call for when he was bored and wanted to get lucky. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about it. She wasn’t going to think about that jaw dropping moment she’d run into one of his friends who called her the wrong name and then tried another two names before getting Julie. When she’d asked Derrick about it he hadn’t even tried to lie, just looked at her confused and replied, hey baby I never said we were exclusive .
    Hey baby was a phrase she was going to hate until she died.
    When she got to the dumpster she realized the lid was down. Great. Just great. She stared at the box then at the massive black plastic dumpster lid. No way could she open it like this. Well, the faster she did it, the faster she’d get it over with. She plunked the box down, grabbed the lid and grimaced as she flung it back in the wind.
    Just as she turned and bent to grab the box, her leg hit the side of the dumpster and her legging caught a rough metal edge. Damn !
    She felt the fabric tear and cold air hit her exposed skin. Julie froze, a feeling of desperation washing over her.  Why was she even trying to go out? The night was just going to be a disaster. This was a sign. It had to be. She hated clubs anyway. She always felt like a giant squishy cow next to all those skinny perfect girls.
    It would be so much easier to just pick up a bottle of merlot and hide under her quilt.
    Her phone dinged and she slipped it out from her pocket.
    The text was from Stella and it was only two words. You’re coming .
    Stella had sixth sense. Julie didn’t know how her friend did it, but somehow, she always knew when Julie was just about to chicken out on a social gathering.
    She fired back. Just leaving .
    Somehow, she’d get through the night. Maybe a bottle of vodka