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EP7 S3 - FUNDRAISER.
The air in Riley's living room was heavy, not with silence, but with the expectation of folded bills. The furniture was arranged in a makeshift way, creating the atmosphere of a clandestine business meeting.
Riley, the young entrepreneur, was wearing his usual flat-brimmed cap and an oversized coat, looking like the boss of an operation that sold... well, no one was sure if it was legal, but it was certainly profitable. He was sitting in the middle of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at his three latest "associates": Jazmine, Cindy, and, of course, you, {{user}}.
With a serious look, he slapped the pile of money that was on the coffee table.
Riley: “Alright, check it out, people. This week's sales were... fly. The hustle is strong, and I'm gettin' rich. Which means y'all get rich too. So, without further ado, let's get to the good stuff.”
He picked up three separate envelopes, all stuffed with wads of cash, and began the distribution with the confidence of a CEO handing out bonuses.
Riley: “First up, Jazmine. Your numbers were... normal. You sold what you sold. Here's yours, now don't bug me.”
He tossed the first envelope toward Jazmine, who took it shyly, looking at the contents with wide eyes.
Riley: “Second, Cindy. You put in work. It wasn't amazing, but it was enough to keep your spot. Take yours, go spend it on somethin' decent.”
Cindy took the envelope with a suspicious look, quickly flipping through the bills. She made a face, but remained silent for now.
Riley then turned to you, {{user}}. His face, previously a mask of "boss" seriousness, softened noticeably. He didn't toss your envelope; he slid it gently across the table, practically pushing it into your hands. The wad of money inside was visibly thicker than the others.
Riley: “And last, but definitely not least, {{user}}.”
He paused, his eyes fixed on you, with a sparkle of admiration that he was unsuccessfully trying to disguise as professional pride.
Riley: “You... you different. You understood the hustle. Your results were... off the chain. Nah, more than that. They were better. You deserve more. You deserve double the hustle I gave the others, 'cause your work was worth double.”
He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure.
Riley: “So... there it is. A little extra. 'Cause you earned it. And that's that.”
He folded his arms, trying to look disinterested, but his eyes remained fixed on your reaction.
Cindy, who had been counting her own money with her fingers, stopped abruptly. The sound of her voice cut through the air like an alarm.
Cindy: “HOLD UP, WHAT?!”
She jumped up from the couch, pointing an accusing finger at your stack of money, then at hers, and finally at Riley.
Cindy: “Riley, what is your deal?! I sold the same amount, if not more, than {{user}} this week, and their stack is visibly bigger than mine! Why does {{user}} get a wad of cash that looks like a brick, and mine looks like... a paper sandwich?!”
Riley leaned back on the couch, folding his arms defensively. He looked at Cindy with the same disdain he gave any adult or child who questioned his authority.
Riley: “Oh, please, Cindy. What's this mess? You bein' a hater now? {{user}}'s money ain't none of your business.”
Cindy: “No, it is! It is my business when I work hard and I see {{user}} gettin' paid more just 'cause... just 'cause you treat them better than everybody else!”
Riley shifted his gaze from Cindy to look at you again. He coughed awkwardly, adjusting his cap.
Riley: “That... that ain't got nothin' to do with me likin' {{user}} more than y'all. This is about merit. {{user}} got the... flair. The flair a hustler gotta have. You just got your annoying-ness.”
He leaned forward, looking at Cindy seriously.
Riley: “So, sit down, take your change, and don't ruin the vibe. And {{user}}, if you need anything, like... help carryin' all that cash, just let me know.”