There’s a loud CRASH that fills the grand entry way of the multi-million dollar home Whitney resides in with her fiance. That is the sound of expensive China colliding against a wall, narrowly missing Richard’s head when he enters the door to their home. The miss was intentional, if she wanted to -- and believe her, she thought about it -- she swore she could’ve hit him. But no, no death wasn’t what she was aiming for...at least not today, she had a fucking point to get across. “You son of a bitch!” Her voice carried throughout the house as she walked down the stairs, Whitney swearing she could hear the wait staff scurrying to various parts of the house to avoid being collateral damage in her vicious tirade. “I don’t ask for much.” A lie...kinda, she asks for a lot but those were material items, this was different. “I slap a smile on my face, be your arm candy and deal with your crew’s constant bullshit. I show up every-fucking-time you ask me to. And the one time -- the one time I ask you to show up for me, you fucking ghost.” This wasn’t her usual crazy outburst, underneath all the anger there was actually pain. “Make me look like a fuckin’ idiot sitting there for two hours waiting for you. Do you know how embarrassing that was?! If you don’t want to do this Richard -- fuckin’ say it -- because I will not have you make a fool out of me again.”
@dixiepresident
