| narrative: jetsetting. |
[Sep. 24th, 2008|04:10 pm] |
Ramon Sanchez prided himself on many things he chose to do with his time.
Sometimes it involved hosting big, boastful martini parties with his best friends, wherein everyone would discuss how much wealthier they'd become thanks to the bank accounts they'd set up in foreign countries. Sometimes it involved doing lines alone in the suite he'd rented, with his mistress idly draped over the luxurious sofa, stiletto'd feet propped up as the television blared.
And sometimes, it involved buying pearl strands at fine jewelry stores for his wife back home. Everyone on the beach had overheard the loud, sirrupy tone he'd dripped through his phone. The business trip was going well, that was why he hadn't called her before now. Very busy, many deals being closed. He'd even bring her back a little something for being such a good girl, waiting for him. He'd see her soon, baby. Of course, the tone changed as soon as he hung up, turning to put an arm around his mistress, who'd just rolled over from giving her back and the backs of her legs a good baking. One gold tooth glinted in the sun as he assured the woman, who likely didn't care one way or another, that the wife wouldn't expect a thing. She thought he was in Florida. Probably didn't know where Florida even was.
Sanchez did not, however, pride himself on losing money -- whether it came in the form of hard cash, his secret bank accounts, or the pearl necklace he purchased for his wife the next day. It was polished up so nice and pretty, the pearls shone with green and pink sheens. Expensive, but not by relative terms. Not for his income.
( His angered roaring upon finding the pearls missing, box and all, from his dresser drawer was enough to shake everyone a few doors down and one story up out of their drunken stupor. ) |
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