Bad Boy vs Millionaire

By: Candy J. Starr

I’d like to thank Anita O’Halloran for her feedback and editing.



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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.





Chapter 1. Hannah


This city was a mess. A swarming, chaotic mess. Even in the winter cold, the sun reflected off every surface. A cacophony of noise and a massive swirl of movement circled around me ― and none of it with any purpose other than driving me hell crazy.

I had no freaken idea where I was and all I could see was a bunch of smokers with grey faces huddled around a smoking area. Behind them, a large screen showed girls dancing around in school uniforms and belting out some cheesy, auto tuned pop song. Women tottered around me on high heels with their faces caked in makeup and with handbags balanced on the crook of their arms. The guys mooched around with hair so gelled up that a hurricane wouldn't move it, wearing shiny suits and pointy-toed shoes. A homeless guy in baggie overalls grunted at me, and all around me crows cacked. Both the homeless man and the crows looked like they'd attack at any moment. And the station entrance spewed out swarm after swarm of people.

“Welcome to Clean Shinjuku” a sign said. At least it was in English but it didn’t look too clean and I didn’t feel all that welcome. The streets branching from the station all looked the same and all the signs I could see were in squiggly foreign.

So far, Tokyo was my least favourite city in the entire world. I mean, the people probably were quite nice on an individual basis but there were just too many of them. Way, way too many. And the one thing I hated, when I was tired and cranky and confused as hell, was having too many people around me.

I pulled the map out of my bag. My carefully planned map where things made sense but the map looked nothing like anything around me. Another swarm of people spewed out of the station.

“Bloody Dad,” I muttered. He should've given me better directions.

“Get a cab from the airport.” That's what he'd said but, when I found out the price of a cab, I figured it'd make far more sense to catch the train. I could totally do it. I wasn’t that person who didn’t know how to catch a train any more. I’d totally coped. It was the getting from the train to the hotel I couldn’t deal with.

“Excuse me,” I called. “Excuse me…”

But people wouldn't even meet my eyes. They just kept swarming. Maybe it was the zombie apocalypse. Why did they walk so slow and drone-like?

I sat on the larger of my suitcases and studied the map again

Cack, cack, cack. More crows, and they moved in closer to me. I tried to out-stare the closest one, hoping he’d get scared and fly off but he stared back as if to say he belonged here and I didn’t.

Before I could set the crow straight, a women bowled into me, almost sending me flying off my case.

“Hey!” I shouted but the woman walked off. “Screw you. And your ugly suit.”

I had always thought the Japanese were stylish. That's what fashion magazines led you to believe. But the zombies around me wore drab suits with plain white shirts. Their faces folded into grey lines and their eyes looked down, mostly at the phones in their hands.

“Get a bit of individuality, why don't you?”

I folded the map and put it back in my bag.

I'd had enough trouble just getting out of the station because it was crowded with like a million people all zoinked out. Then I finally found the exit and there was no escalator, just a big flight of stairs. I had to drag my cases behind me. Bump, bump, bump up the stairs until I could feel the sweat running down the backs of my legs and stinking through my clothes. They could turn the heating down a bit. It wouldn't have surprised me to see a big, snail trail of sweat behind me as I walked.

I didn't like sweating.

I’d finally made it to the top and into the daylight without my fingers dropping off, although the circulation had stopped where I'd held the cases and my fingertips were a funny purple colour. The blast of cold wind hit my clammy skin, sending shivers right through me.

I figured once I’d gotten out of the station, I'd know where I was.

I was so wrong.

I couldn’t spend the rest of my life sitting on a suitcase outside the station though, so I got out my phone and did the only thing I could think of doing. I took a selfie and sent it to Angie.

I'm here but I've got no idea where I am.

Then I decided to hell with my pride and I sent Dad a message too, asking him for directions to the hotel or to maybe send a cab to pick me up.

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