Chapter 132. The Fall of Amanda ‘Not’ Clarke (1)

O, how the mighty fall! With ruin upon ruin, heap’d, and vengeance answer’d upon vengeance. ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost.

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AMANDA

“I didn't pay you thousands to stop at every fucking checkpoint, Mister.” I seethed, gritting my teeth in anger, as the driver pulled to a stop at another police roadblock, this one much busier than the other two we passed.

“I have to fucking stop, missus.” He looked over his shoulder at me, scowling. “Either this or my cab is confiscated, and I'm fined. I damn well can't afford that, even with the scraps you're paying. So do me a favor, stop being a whiny bitch, and shut up.”

My mouth flew open in surprise, and for a few seconds, all I could see were spots, my cheeks flaming with rage. What the fuck?

Did this good-for-nothing asshole just call me a whiny bitch? And did he call the 2,000 extra dollars scraps? Scraps? The fuck!

I almost laughed at the irony of my situation. Almost.

Take deep breat