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Chapter 8

I swing side to side on the chair around three in the afternoon. Matilda staring at me as if I was the solution to all her worldly problems. Of course she gave me a hard time about missing work yesterday, but after hearing me groan while massaging my lower back just so I could have a seat, her scoldings turned into interrogations.

  “I still can't believe you missed work so you can fuck all day,” she says for the umpeeth time since this morning.

I glare at her, picking at my nails. My feet are aching after standing all day. Customers coming in and out. Today was mostly filled with requests for a Brazilian wax.

   “We did not fuck all day. Maybe like three times but that it!”

   “You said four!”

 “Once, the evening I arrived on. The three the next day,” I exclaim before screaming out of frustration, “Argh! Why am I even arguing with you?” 

  &n

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