195: I don’t share those feelings

SCARLETT

“Drop me off at the first bar we see on the way,” I told the taxi driver as I got into the back seat.

Luckily, I was dressed in a pair of joggers that had a ten dollar note and I had my phone with me, so I didn't have to add being stranded and penniless to my long list of current burdens. It didn't take long before we stopped at a bar and brunch spot and I paid the driver before heading in and going straight to the bar area.

“Give me your strongest drink,” I told the bartender and he rose a concerned brow in my direction before nodding.

“You drinks are on me, you’re the prettiest girl that's walked in here today,” he winked before disappearing behind the thick shelves of liquor.

The only reason I didn't walk out of the bar after being hit on while I was in the worst mood was because I didn't have the energy or cash to do so, so I just mounted a barstool and allowed my mind wander as I waited for the drink.

God, I felt like a home wrecking, backstabbing bitch.

First, it was Ma