He got into law school... and his daddy bought him a Beamer...

There's a song by some punky, not of my style band that says "girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money." that isn't entirely wrong. Girls like boys, this is certain, but girls also like cars and money. As righteous as someone may be, she'd rather ride in a Lexus than in a rust bucket. This is a general rule of humanity, people like nice things. Miranda really likes nice things.
I met Chet six years ago, in the parking lot behind the Rite-Aid in town. If you just sneered and thought it was because I was a destitute whore who had just broken a heel, you are mistaken. My little Honda had yet another flat tire, because the little bitch who thought my boyfriend at the time, Christian, was attractive, had a fetish for putting tacks behind my tires. Sometimes, I caught it, but this time, I was in too much of a hurry to worry about checking for roofing nails. The string of words coming out of my mouth wasn't lady like, to say the least. In a slutty Halloween nurse costume, with fluffy panty covers sticking out and a cheap stethoscope I swiped from my niece's toy box dangling from my pocket, I kicked the flat tire and prayed that I would get a chance to shove a tack in a very unholy place of that little bitch. I'm sure I probably looked defeated, because a very handsome man who introduced himself as "just Chet" pulled up in a beautiful Audi, black, tinted windows, white leather interior and not a female sunglasses case in sight.
"Need some help?"
"This bitch keeps tack-raping my tires. I don't even have a spare with me."
Long story short, he drove me to Christian's, but not before dropping his number into my purse. Christian was pissed a guy picked me up but once I explained that bitch was doing the tack thing again, his anger faded into annoyance at her odd obsession.
But I couldn't get Chet out of my mind. When Christian dumped me three months later, I hit the ground running and called Audi man up immediately.
I just am a sucker for nice cars, that's my problem. Christian's '98 Blazer with holes beginning to rust through the floor boards just wasn't for me.
So now I can bring you to the story I intended to tell. Today, I was making pancakes and ranting my latest rant about Chet at Josh. (Josh the goldfish.) I don't even like pancakes, but I just wanted some carbs. My phone rang, and in ten seconds, I flipped the skillet with freshly poured batter over, dropped a scalding hot spatula on my left foot, damn near knocked Josh off his table, and spilled the entire bowl of batter on my freshly mopped floor. I wasn't thrilled when I answered the phone, seeing it was a girl I graduated with that has been my best friend for twelve years.
"This better be really good, Lee. You should see the mess in my kitchen, I was making pancakes and--"
"You don't even like pancakes."
"Well I wanted carbs and my mom bought them for me... Anyway, so I flipped--"
"Just shut up, I have big things to tell you. Remember how after you met Chet all you could talk about was how hot he looked driving that new car?"
"Mhmm, before I realized he had 70 grand worth of loans on it,"
"I saw Christian today.."
"And his foot was sticking through the rust hole in the bottom of that smelly Blazer?? God I can't stand him."
"He got into Yale. And his dad bought him a brand new car."
"Yeah, I made the dean's list and Dad bought me a new car, so?"
"Your dad bought you another Honda. His daddy bought him a Beamer."
My entire body went numb. That bastard told me he'd have one one day, and I just laughed at him.
"Huh?"
"Yeah. Brand new. Candy apple red, sun roof, black leather... and get this," I knew what she was about to say. "I was window creeping, and I saw a pair of COACH sunglasses in the front seat with a matching case. Classic print, new frame, 145 for the pair and 260 for the case. Gold clasps."
If there was one thing that Lee knew, it was her luxury brands.
Damnit, Chet. Your Audi drew me in, your penis hooked me, and your loans sunk me.
Sonofabitch.