Chapter 43: Chapter 43
Ray’s eyes bulged wide. The voice that just barged straight into his ears made his whole body go tense — not scared, but straight-up suspicion exploding in his head.
The accent... super thick. Super obvious. Not local, not the regular kind.
"Hello sir! Big congratulations! You have won the grand international lottery prize — one million dollars! This is Officer David from the claims department. Sir, to process your one million dollars, we need to verify your identity and bank details. Please do not hang up, sir—"
Ray let out a harsh scoff right away. Eyes narrowed, hand gripping the phone so tight his knuckles turned white.
’Scam. Classic as fuck. Accent’s way too fucking obvious, man. Today really is my unlucky day, damn.’
He didn’t waste time. Voice flat, cold, full of all the frustration that’d been stacking up all day.
"Go to hell."
The scammer on the other end freaked the fuck out. Voice jumped an octave, fake pleading tone.
"No no no, sir! Don’t be like that, sir. This isn’t a scam. Don’t be rude, sir. Please, you really won one million dollars. But first we need a small processing fee and tax verification. Only five hundred dollars, sir. Very small. Do not hang up—"
Ray felt his blood start boiling. Face getting hot. After earlier being forced to finish that plate of fried rice and chicken Sonya cooked herself — the spoon she’d clearly been rubbing all over her thick, wet pussy folds that reeked of her thick pussy —
Now he gets hit with this bullshit scam call?
Today was really his fucked-up day. Super unlucky. The full package.
Ray couldn’t hold it anymore. With an over-the-top mocking tone, he started copying the scammer’s accent while laughing all cynical and pissed off, voice going high and stupid:
"Do not reedeem it! Do not redeemmm it!"
Then he snapped hard, voice cracking from all the anger he couldn’t keep down:
"Fuck you, you scammer piece of shit! Don’t fucking bother me again, you dick!"
*click.*
Phone slammed shut. Ray chucked it onto the table with a loud *thud*. Breathing all heavy and ragged. Chest heaving fast.
He rushed to the sink, cranked the faucet on full blast, then drank straight from the tap. Gurgled hard, spat, drank again. Kept swallowing over and over, but that nasty feeling still wouldn’t go away. Actually made him feel even dirtier. Throat felt like some thin layer was stuck to it.
Back at the table, he stared at the empty plate and the tumbler with that stainless straw still standing straight up. The straw Sonya had stuck in there all calm, like it was just normal.
----
After sitting quiet for a few minutes, he remembered he could just move the fuck out of this apartment.
"I gotta get the fuck outta here," he muttered low but firm. Voice all raspy.
He stood up suddenly. Walked straight to the narrow corner of the room, to his beat-up PC that’s been around for over ten years. Hit the power button hard. Fan immediately started wheezing like it was dying, monitor flickered twice before it finally turned on. Windows took forever to load, Ray tapping the desk impatiently.
"Hurry the fuck up, man... I need this shit fast today."
Finally the desktop popped up. Ray opened the browser, fingers still kinda shaky as he typed in the search bar: cheap apartments for rent — or whatever city he could actually reach. Results flooded in right away. Thousands of listings. Photos of studio apartments with clean white paint, split AC, bathroom inside, small balcony, view of the main road.
Ray scrolled fast. Eyes burning. So many options, but they all felt like traps.
"This... there’s a shit ton," he muttered annoyed. "This one’s expensive as hell, that one’s ugly, that one’s got reviews saying there’s rats, that one’s way the fuck out in the middle of nowhere... my head’s spinning."
He opened a bunch of tabs at once. Clicked details. Read reviews. Some said "nice landlord", some said "AC leaks every night", some said "internet’s slow as shit". Ray scratched his head hard. Head was really starting to pound.
He was this close to closing everything and just giving up.
But then one listing made him stop scrolling.
Small studio in a pretty decent area — not downtown, but clean enough from the photos. Clean room, fresh white paint, big window letting in breeze, en-suite bathroom with shower, and most importantly — a corner desk that looked big enough for a PC setup plus monitor. Reviews mostly positive: "quiet", "landlord responds quick", "perfect for people working from home or streaming".
Ray sat there for a second. Eyes narrowed, reading the details twice.
"...This one," he said quietly. "This feels... right."
He clicked through all the photos. Pictured himself there. Far away from the musty smell of this room.
"Tomorrow morning I’m calling. Or even tonight. Who knows, maybe I can check it out right away. Don’t wanna wait around."
A little bit of that weight on his chest eased up.
Then he opened a new tab.
"Chill for a sec," he muttered. "My brain’s all fucked up right now."
Browser went straight to the streaming site he always opens. Trending live streams popped up on the front page. One sitting high up there — already thousands of viewers — called Star Joy.
Ray clicked in.
Stream loaded up right away. IRL. Five guys, looked like they were in a garage or big outdoor lot. Cars: one black modified Fortuner, one white Civic Type R, one GR Yaris, one old Mustang that looked freshly restored, and another that looked like a Supra or some JDM car. They were standing around casual, laughing sometimes, showing off mod details, exhausts, rims, even one guy checking a new turn signal he just installed. Camera sometimes in someone’s hand, sometimes on a tripod. Engines revving every now and then for demo. Live chat blowing up with car emojis and comments like "nice bro", "we pray for this build".
Ray watched for a bit. Eyebrows raised slowly.
"IRL car content... lotta people watching this shit."
He clicked the channel profile.
Bio was simple:
We pray for cars...
Ray paused. Then nodded a little.
"Solid branding," he muttered.
He clicked back to the live stream. They were cracking up ’cause one of the cars stalled when they tried starting it. Chat went crazy. Some gifts rolling in.
Ray sat there zoning out. Mouse stopped moving.
Mind drifting to himself.
"What if I started streaming too..."
He scratched his head hard.
"Gaming?"
"Or IRL? Like these guys?" Ray looked back at the screen. Those five dudes looked like they were having the time of their lives, with their cars, their community.
He was really lost. Right hand messing with the mouse, scrolling through Star Joy’s still-packed chat.
"Gaming or IRL? Or both? Or start with just chatting? Or reactions? Or... what the fuck?"
He let out a long sigh.
"Fuck it, why am I already overthinking this shit..."
He closed the Star Joy tab slowly. Then reopened the apartment tab he’d bookmarked earlier. The photo of that small studio was still sitting there.
Ray stared at the screen for a long time.
"Tomorrow," he muttered quietly. "Tomorrow I’m starting to move on this. Gonna call the apartment owner."
