The Diary of Lexi Ashford (Lexi Ashford: Part One) Read Free Page A

though it’s the last thing I want to do right now.
    “No, it’s okay,” Sexy Stranger waves off my help then warns the boy, “Don’t run away again. Your mom’s already going to be pissed off at me for that stunt you pulled at the toy store.”
    “Art is art! And that display looked much better with my art on it!” the boy shouts then spins around and takes off running.
    “Shit,” Sexy Stranger curses then runs after him, calling out to me, “Sorry about everything! I really am!”
    I watch him run away, wishing I’d at least gotten his name. Then again, he’s probably married, so what does it really matter?
    Sighing, I head back down the crowded sidewalk toward my apartment. I must really look like a crazy mess now because, while I’m waiting to cross the street, some old dude gives me five dollars and promises me that God loves all his children, even the hookers and sinners.
    By the time I trudge into my apartment, I’m cold, wet, tired, and my eyes are nearly swollen shut from sobbing. I flop down on my bed, ready for the day to be over, like somehow overnight, my life will restart, and everything will be okay again. I know that’s not the case. I’ve been fired enough times to know I’m going to spend a couple of weeks applying to jobs and being called in for interviews, all while worrying if I’m going to make next month’s rent.
    Grimacing, I kick off my shoes and drag my butt out of bed to grab my ancient laptop off my desk. While it’s booting up, I slip on a pair of boots and jog across the street to order a sinfully delicious slice of pizza with the five bucks the guy gave me. On the way back inside, while I’m stuffing my face with greasy goodness, I pick up my mail.
    I haven’t gotten it in a few days because I lost the key and just found it last night. The box is filled with a ton of magazines and junk mail. The only thing of importance is a letter from my landlord.
    I tear it open and my heart nearly stops. “An eviction notice? What the hell?”
    I’m never late on my rent. I feel like banging my head on the wall. Could this day get any worse?
     

Chapter 3
     
    After making a call to the landlord, I find out the bank returned my last month’s check because of insufficient funds. When I check my bank account, I discover a long list of charges not made by me.
    “I can promise you,” I tell the very snide operator on the phone. “I didn’t spend two hundred and seven bucks at Gary’s Extravagant and Extraordinary Sex Toy Adult Shop.”
    “I understand your frustration ma’am,” she replies in a dry tone. “And, like I said earlier, we’re looking into it, but it might take seven to ten days to process a refund.”
    “I don’t have seven to ten days,” I huff out in frustration, tossing the statement onto the table. “This is such bullshit. I mean, what does extravagant and extraordinary even mean? Does it sell extra long vibrators with fur on them or something? Because that’s just creepy and very unpractical.”
    The line grows awkwardly quiet.
    Okay, okay. I might have gone a little too far with the whole furry, extra-long vibrator remark, but when I get too frazzled, I sometimes speak without thinking first. My mom calls it the curse of being an Ashford woman.
    “Your dad’s mom once told me about her sex life and all the positions your grandpa and her used to do,” she said to me during a very uncomfortable conversation when I was thirteen. “She only did it because she was stressed out at work and was pissed off at your grandpa for breaking the bed frame. Anyway, she later apologized and explained that every Ashford woman has a habit of saying whatever pops into their head, especially when they’re stressed out.”
    I didn’t believe in her curse theory at the time, but now I’m totally on board with it.
    “That’s why we offer our multiple security programs,” the operator finally breaks the silence. “Perhaps you’ll want to consider signing up for one