Bad Boy Rock Star Read Online Free

a snap of my fingers. This would be a nightmare.
    I should call Tom. If he didn't hear from me, he'd get worried and the last thing I wanted was for him to come down here looking for me. All he knew was that I'd dropped out of school to find myself and had moved back home for a while. I'd give him a ring later when he'd finished classes to keep him happy. Lately, he'd been busy when I tried to call him. I didn't have much to say to him anyway.
    Until then, I had to get out of this place. If I sat in this room all day, staring at those four walls, I’d go crazy. I needed to at least go out and get coffee and forget for a moment that I didn’t really have any place to go.
    When I heard the footsteps shuffle back to a room and the door close, I grabbed my stuff and headed to the communal bathroom, carefully locking my room behind me. The bathroom was none too clean and I thought one of the losers in this place could at least give it a scrub.
    The hot water in the shower washed away all the grime, the places that Jack Colt's hands had touched me, thinking that his slight attention would be a way to make more sales , it seemed. The spot on the back of my neck where he'd caressed me, I didn't care about that at all. I let the soap and water carry away any traces. And I scrubbed the place on my thigh where his leg had pressed against mine. I didn't need any reminder of that.
    I planned on turn up to the meeting on Tuesday all business-like and professional and like I'd forgotten he'd even kissed me. That would teach him a valuable lesson. I'd put my case to them and hopefully they'd see sense. Then I'd walk away with a bundle of money and could go back and finish my degree and wait for Dad to return. I'd even forgive him for dumping me in this mess.
    I dried myself off then popped my head out the door to make sure no one was around. I really didn't fancy running into anyone in the hallway and standing around having a chat about their back pains or what boringly awful things they'd been doing all day.
    The floor creaked as I ran along the hallway to my room and I thought I heard a door open but I darted into my room so quickly no one saw me. I began getting ready to go out.
    I picked up a bottle of moisturiser and shook it. Nothing came out. I squeezed and a dollop splattered onto my hand. I shook it some more. It was almost empty. No way. I needed that moisturiser. It made my skin soft and glowing and it was one of the few brands my sensitive skin could handle. How much was a bottle of moisturiser anyway? About $300.
    Then I realised I could not afford to buy more. How does a person get to this state? Not being able to afford life's essentials. Surely poor people need moisturiser too or they'd all have dry, flaky skin. I had to find out about this.
    Once I was clean and dressed, I got out the folder Frank had given me. It was fat and packed full of notes – all the records and financial statements of Megastar Management. I packed it into my bag and headed out to the café on the corner to make sense of it all. I had $500 in the bank, which meant I could afford to pay rent for the next few weeks and eat and maybe buy one coffee a day. I'd make that coffee last for a long time and not even look at the bagels or the fries.
    I'd never really thought before about the concept of afford or can't afford , just want or don’t want . Now, I had to scribble away on pieces of paper, working out budgets and how to survive. I could do this. Like Dad said, I had to be stronger than anyone and living for two weeks on a budget couldn't be too bad. Surely it wouldn't be any longer. The end of those two weeks loomed in front of me like a closed door. If Dad didn't come back and open it… well, I wouldn't think about that.
    When I got to the café, I sat in a corner booth with red vinyl seats. Planters of ferns hung from the ceiling and I wasn't sure if they were going for a retro '70s look or if they just hadn't redecorated since the '70s. The