Glamorous

This title is narrated with virtual voice. Computer-generated narration for audiobooks. Glamorous, Book 1 of the World of Beautiful Series By Violet B. Harper Chapter 1 In the dingy kitchen, I stand bleary-eyed, watching a bowl of ramen spin in the beat-up microwave. Barely five weeks ago I arrived in Paris, and so far, the experience isn't the fun-filled romp I envisioned. With hardly any money for such an adventure, especially in an international culture hub, I'm stuck in a two-bedroom apartment with four other roommates, all of whom snore like the devil on volcanic steroids. Even though I work at a bank, this dumpy place is the best I could afford under the starvation wages of a summer intern. This is for the experience, I remind myself. For filling out the job resume. I snort at the thought. My primary purpose is to get coffee and lunch for senior people. The made-up project they have me doing involves interest loans and bankruptcy, something that's only showing me how bad my own debt will be when I graduate from college. If I can even figure out what I want to do with my life. The microwave beeps. I pull out the instant noodles and toss in a few colorful vegetables to spruce up the bland meal. From there, I head into the apartment's cramped living room, where I plop onto a couch that was probably elegant during the 1920s, but is now a worn, outdated relic. With a sigh, I set the cheap fare next to my phone on the even older coffee table. Footsteps clomp down the wooden floorboards of the hallway. The door opens with a creak, and Nate Jenkins enters. He's my friend from college who got me into this glorious adventure. The other three sharing this apartment with us are his friends from summer camp. As I stare with envy, he shoves the remains of a pastry into his mouth. Still chewing, he comes over and gives me a fist bump. Nate's a touchy-feely type, which lends him a more personable nature than most guys. You know, in France, you're supposed to respect the food and not eat on the fly, I say. He holds up a finger, pausing the conversation until he chews enough to swallow. I was in a rush, he says, glancing at my meager dinner. Noodles again? Instead of responding to the obvious, I say, how did it go with that girl? His frown tells me the answer. In high school, he was quite the ladies' man because his well-to-do parents gave him a sporty car with racing stripes. Even though we're heading into our senior year of college, Nate's still trying to find his dating footing. At 5'9", he's a touch taller than me and not bad-looking. The only issue is that he's a tad chubby, most likely from his love of dessert and every other prior course up to and before the appetizer. However, with a likable smile, easy-going attitude, and soft brown eyes, there isn't anything to his game that a diet and gym membership wouldn't solve. These European chicks are different, he states as an excuse. It's going to take a while to get used to how the dating scene works here. We leave in four weeks. I'll get it done before then. After giving him a thumbs-up for confidence, I say, the toilet's dripping again, there's a puddle in the bathroom. Nate sighs. I'll speak with the landlord again. I understand his reticence. Our landlord is on the rude and unsavory side and is always complaining about how little he rented this crappy place to us for. Fixing something like a leak should be simple, but a group of summer interns, temporary residents of Paris, isn't high on his priority list. A bunch of us are heading to a club tonight where a lot of models hang out, Nate says to change the topic. You should come. I shake my head, visualizing my finances. After taxes, most of my paltry paycheck goes into my savings account, which is earmarked for next semester's expenses, including textbooks. What little remains for entertainment enters my checking account, which has less than fifty euros at the moment. In the best case, I'll have enough for one nice meal in the city before I leave, so making a visit to a club with Nate to watch him strike out with hot European girls is the last thing I want to spend anything on. I've got too much work to do, and I wanted to walk around some of the parks later. Parks? This is Friday night! I shrug. Look, he says with sincerity, my parents sent me some cash to enjoy myself, so how about I pay the entrance fee for both of us?