The Arrogant Mrs. CEO

CHAPTER 2

As Cindy exited the female shopping boutique, she was carrying her white bag containing what she had bought.

She struggled to walk with the few items in the bag, as she wasn't used to carrying loads.

Cindy was sweating profusely, and she used her left hand to clutch her red purse, separately holding it.

She then carried the white polythene bag in her right hand, walking again under the hot, scorching sun.

Cindy cussed under her breath, as there were many people on the way, blocking her from reaching the parking lot.

She was unable to walk faster, and she bumped into some passersby, as many people had come to shop, since it was the weekend. On Friday's evening.

Cindy's phone rang in her red purse, but she was unable to answer it. She pushed her way through the crowd of people, and climbed on the pedestrian.

As she struggled to head toward the parking lot, a fair-skinned handsome man, who had just finished helping an elderly woman to carry all she had bought from the shopping complex to her Jeep in the parking lot, spotted Cindy.

He hurriedly walked up to help her with her small, white polythene bag that she was struggling with.

Cindy looked funny and frustrated under the man's watchful gaze. He could see her anger in her face in carrying the small white bag.

The man rushed up to meet Cindy and stopped in front of her.

"Hello, young lady. Excuse me, may I help you carry your load? Helping people to carry their loads is my job," the man said.

Cindy paused, surprised and looked up at the tall man's face who had blocked her way.

She was shocked to meet his gaze, her jaw dropped, her breathing ceased, as the man looked so handsome.

However, he looked so dirty, which confirmed to Cindy that was his job.

He wore a white dirty top, and black trouser that was filled with dust. But this didn't hide the fact the man's skin looked so beautiful than hers.

"Really, how much do you charge for helping people carry their loads?" Cindy asked, her cheeks flushed.

She was unknowingly blushing, astonished to see a handsome man like him, helping other people carry their loads to their cars as his job.

As all the men Cindy had dated in the past weren't close to this labourer's handsomeness. She looked at his face to hear his response, but his sweaty body and dirty clothes stung her nostrils.

She frowned, inhaled his sweaty manly scent and heard him responded, "20 cents, madam."

Peter Richards was excited to help Cindy carry her load. He was sweating too much, due to the fact he had rushed up to assist her.

Peter then used his right palm to wipe his sweaty forehead, and clear the beads of sweat. He didn’t have any handkerchief, but this action annoyed Cindy.

"Gross! Please stop doing that! It's very irritating and disgusting of you. How much does a handkerchief cost that you cannot afford one? Or is it with those smelly hands of yours that you want to use and touch my hand bag and carry it for me?" Cindy glared at Peter, her pretty face shone red in anger.

Peter gulped, embarrassed, and couldn't respond directly. "No madam. I'm sorry. Let me use my top to wipe off the sweat."

Peter quickly turned his white, dirty top inside–out to wipe his sweaty forehead, but Cindy shouted, "That's enough! Here's a 100-dollar bill, use it to buy new clothes for yourself, as you stink so badly. And please, get out of my way. I can manage to carry my load by myself, before you will give me a disease."

Peter swallowed hard in shock, as Cindy insulted him and threw the 100-dollar note on him. It landed on the floor, and he quickly bent and picked up the fallen money.

He stood up and looked around in the direction Cindy had taken, but he didn’t see her again.

Peter clutched tightly to the money Cindy had given to him and said, "Wow! She's so pretty."

He didn’t take Cindy's insult to heart as he said, "I just hope to see her again."

Peter smiled and decided to close for the day. He quit running errands for other people or helping anyone else to carry their loads. He then decided to go shop for some new clothes since he was poor.

Likewise, he decided to save part of the money in his bank account, heading to the nearest bank to deposit the money.

Most of the female bank staff were familiar with Peter. They watched him from their desk as he entered the bank to stowed the money.

He approached the lady who usually helped him save the little cents he gathered daily.

The lady in a black suit collected the $100 from Peter's hand. She suspiciously looked at him, wondering where he had gotten the money from and if he had stolen it.

She knew Peter was poor, but he informed her that he wanted to save half of the money, and use the remaining half for food and new clothes.

His sweaty clothes were torn too.

"What's the problem, miss? Has the money torn, or is it a fake note?" Peter asked, seeing the female bank staff suspiciously looking at him.

He was still overjoyed that the stranger had given him such a large amount of money without him doing any work for her.

"No. But where did you get this money from? Did you steal it or picked it from the ground in the market?" The female accountant couldn't keep her suspicion to herself anymore, asking Peter.

"No! How can you accuse me of such? I come here every day before you close to deposit my money, and you're accusing me of theft?" Peter glared at her, raising his voice.

The banker quickly gulped and looked downward, noticing the eyes of her colleagues and manager upon her. She muttered to Peter, "I'm sorry, sir, just asking to be sure. Here is half of the money you requested to be debited, and the other half has been deposited into your account."

She handed the withdrawn money to Peter.

"Are you sure? Or are you lying to me? Let me see the receipt that you’ve deposited it," Peter asked, knowing the female bank staff had her eyes on him.

She wanted a relationship, but he wasn't interested and had rejected her countless times.

The woman bit her lower lip before cutting out the receipt and slowly handing it over to Peter.

Peter snatched the receipt as she said, "Here it is."

He looked at the receipt, seeing the money had indeed been credited to his account. He smiled in satisfaction and finally muttered to the banker, "Thank you."

Peter left the bank with the remaining half of the cash given to him. He walked out to meet a wheelbarrow pusher that was selling men's clothing along the roadside.

Peter purchased a new top and trouser. A yellow polo and black trouser, including black shorts he would need. He paid for it and went to the public bathroom to bathe.

Afterwards, he changed into the new clothes that he had bought, and went to sit in the front of a closed shop.

He was staying with some friends under a bridge.

"I just pray to meet more pretty young women like that woman again. .It's the first time I’ve offered to help a young woman carry her load, and she gave me money without sexualizing me first," Peter said, thinking about the female stranger.

He didn't know her name, only that she gave him money without him doing anything for her.

"I just pray we meet again."

Peter sighed and went to a nearby restaurant to order a delicious meal. He refills his empty stomach, as night had fallen. He hadn’t eaten since morning, after that, he went back to sit in front of the closed shop.

"Peter, is this you?" A familiar voice asked.

Peter turned to see the person. His colleague who stayed under a bridge with him. In the underdeveloped side of the bustling city.

As they slept there everynight, Peter moved away from his friend who wanted to touch him, after he returned from the restaurant.

"It's me, Tom. No touching," Peter said, avoiding Tom's touch.

"Really?" Tom inquiried, looking at Peter's face. "Tell me the secret, man? Where did you get the money to purchase these handsome top and trousers from? Have you finally agreed to service a woman in her bed, and she paid you heavily for it?

"I know you're a handsome man and every woman around here wants. So, how much per night did she pay you for the job well done? Let me know, if I should quit carrying loads and join you in this sugar-boy business," Tom grinned.

Peter stared at his friend, Tom Elliot, with narrowed eyes.

He was sitting on a bench in front of the closed shop. The night had fallen, casting darkness around the area as Peter looked at the busy road and the fleet of cars passing by.

Tom drew closer, standing in front of Peter, asking, "What's wrong Peter? Ain't you going to answer me? I was only assuming."

"I know, Tom," Peter replied. "I didn’t sleep with any woman to get paid."