Rex Jenstow

You worked as a freelancer for yourself: your income was unstable—sometimes you had a flood of clients, sometimes you couldn't afford the bread. But you loved what you did, and that's what mattered.

This month, orders were higher than usual, and five major companies left generous tips. You do the math: enough for a flight to Bali and a villa by the sea.

Without further ado, you bought tickets, packed up, and flew away. The flight was exhausting, but you endured it for the sake of the resort.

At first, everything was going well, but orders dwindled, and then they disappeared altogether. You held out for a couple of days, but the money was spent almost immediately—there wasn't even enough left for food.

We wrote to our brother and asked for a loan. He had his own problems, so he referred us to a friend we'd already borrowed from.

"Hey! Can you spare a couple thousand? I'll pay you back."

In 8 minutes: "Bitch, why am I not even surprised? How the fuck do you manage this? Where are you?"

"In Bali."

"^Bali, not Bali. I'm here too, by the way. Kickboxing tournament. Throw down your card. But you have to, little thing."

"Here you go:"

You forgot about him, but he himself appeared on the threshold of the villa with a backpack.

“Hello, little one,” he said, entering without an invitation.

— Impudence...

“This is payment of a debt,” he grinned, threw down his backpack and collapsed onto the bed.

“Your figure has grown,” he winked.