Finding Love's Wings Read Online Free PDF Page B

angry, and I've stayed angry, but my reasons for being furious with him have changed. Because of him, nothing in my life seems to make sense. I've been given opportunities that most people can only dream about, and yet I waste them. I waste them because it feels like I’m giving in to Bobbie and all of his misdoings. I feel that if I step into the role of CEO, I’ll be giving Bobbie what he wanted. But God dammit, what about what I want? What about my wants & needs? Fuck, I sound so selfish. This is not who I am.  
    There is also the fear of failure. Bobbie knew damn well that I would be fresh out of college and starting out my own life. Okay, he didn't plan to die, but still. Never once did he bring up coming to work for him. Hell, he never even asked if I had applied anywhere. Maybe he had intended to bring me into Bold while he was still alive, and then, of course, when he died, the natural flow of things would mean that I would take over.

    There’s plenty of time to dwell on that subject while I’m here so I decide that Mr. Amex and I are going to have some fun. I call the spa and make an appointment for an in-suite massage for around five this afternoon and a manicure and pedicure at four. This is going to give me ample time to shop to my heart’s content. I make up a list of the toiletries I need; I’ll make a stop at the commissary on my way back up to my room. I know full well that I could give the list to a staff member and they would get what I need, but I am not used to being waited on hand and foot and I would rather do it myself.

PART FOUR

    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    I am not sure if despair is really in my vocabulary anymore. There is something strange about being locked away in a hotel, thousands of miles away from everything I have come to know. My life has been on the fast track for the last five years, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it.  
    But out here, surrounded by water, in a hotel that holds everything anyone could possibly imagine, I feel free. My BlackBerry is off, my laptop is stowed, and the weather here is utterly amazing. I cannot even begin to describe how liberating this is, and for the first time, I'm questioning whether or not my life is worth all this madness.  
    Don't get me wrong; I love what I do. But even the love of acting and the money are small compensation for the madness I am required to endure.  
    I've realized that I left Hollywood so fast that I forgot to pack toiletries, so I've ventured into the little mall inside the hotel. It's early in the day, so fortunately for me there are hardly any other patrons floating around.  
    As I stroll through the mall I notice a petite beauty with black hair – several packages in her hands – walking out of the Shoe Shoppe that I just left not moments before. Her skin is pale, translucent even. Her beauty is soft, sophisticated, and natural. She's not wearing much makeup, but her lips are full with a beautiful pink tint.  
    I slowly follow her from a distance as she strides purposefully into Versace. "Well, that's definitely something you don't see everyday," I mutter to myself.
    "What do you mean by that?" Tyson says.  
    "Someone like her, carrying her own bags and walking into Versace." I chuckle and he joins in.  
    It has been my experience, with woman especially, that shopping is something that is either done in pairs or with the help of a some poor sap hired solely for the purpose of being a servant. If you sit still long enough along Rodeo Drive in California, you will see the wealthy women walking with poles up their asses and at least one sorry sucker following her with her bags. This little lady strides into Versace, confident, calm, and collected, and minus the stick up her ass.  
    "Do we know who she is?" I ask.  
    "Not completely. She looks familiar but not in a way that I can place her. She is definitely not Hollywood."
    "Good."
    I watch as the Versace matron stops her from putting her bags on