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2. Loser x Ruby - An Uptown Girl

uptown girl is a fucking bop, shame the actual storyline doesn't have shit to do with it

Requested by: @NgHoang1312

"So then, she dumped me. I can't believe it! I took her nice places... I mean yeah, I guess I didn't pay, but what's wrong with scrounging leftovers from posh restaurants? Doesn't cost them any money to hand them out to the poor. And it's nice fuckin food too."
Loser finished shining the hood with an old rag, wax shining moist on his hands.
"Go easy on them, they're simply misguided."
"Trust you to stick up for them, posh boy." his colleague spat, eyeing him up and down in a displeased fashion.
"Not all rich people are the same. In fact, I'm dirt poor but I still wouldn't be impressed if I was a girl and a man scavenged for me."
The other worker rolled his eyes and snatched the shining rag from Loser's hands, moving around to the other side with the bottle of wax.
"Suit yourself. You chose this life, you'll live it. And if that means sucking up to snobby rich bitches, then you're in for a ride down into hell without my sympathy."
He was always like this. It didn't normally bother Loser that much what other people thought about what he said, but when they acted up as much as his colleagues did then it could get very annoying very quickly. Who were they to dictate his opinions? Who was he to get angry at him for telling the truth he didn't want to hear?
He was done. Not announcing his departure, he began to walk across the car wash station, puddles at his feet reflecting his fed up countenance. Fed up of work, fed up of life like this... he wished he was back on the estate more than ever. He wished he hadn't cast his old life aside so easily.
He didn't see the Rolls Royce pull up at first, but it didn't take him long to take note of the wheels splashing through the excess pools from the wash. Suds spun up into the arches closer and closer, but Loser didn't care. He was broken and sick of being amiable. He wasn't going to go help somebody who had-
A loud beep and he was shocked back against the hard concrete by an invisible force. Half by fright and half by a surface smashing into his thigh, Loser was thrown several feet backwards, rolling through the stagnant puddles. The wet splash accompanied the sudden ear-piercing tinnitus blinded him. His head bounced back up from the ground. Then down. Darkness.
"Oh dear lord!"

Three angels awoke him.
Two: rugged men, one soaped by years at the wash, the other raisin-wrinkled by age and hard as leather.
Number three wasn't quite in focus.
"Are you quite alright honey?"
Loser stirred, coming to slightly, raising his head; his face was a scrunched up ball of confusion. Nothing made sense, but all of sudden as he looked up, it all came rushing. The voice, the silhouette, the summer hat.
"Oh my, it's you!" came a gasping screeching of recognition, as two arms squeezed him like a ketchup packet. All the blood rushed back to his throbbing skull and then out again, as the surroundings danced in a cloud of bees. Fleetingly mobile yet solidifying by the second, the streets returned to their hyperrealistic grey, and the figure's face swam into colour.
"Ruby? What are you doing here?"
"We took a wrong turning and ended up on the poor side of town, so we thought we may as well get a cheap wash. Oh, isn't it so exciting? I've always wanted to see a real poor person."
"What?"
Shocked and bemused by her comment, Loser just managed to stumble to his feet with some help from the chauffeur and his colleague (who came close to dropping him back down a few times). Ruby was looking the car wash station with its tabletop cover and petrol pumps alongside the hoses and buckets where several vehicles in varying stages of cleanliness sat up and down in wonder, as if she'd never laid eyes open any of the objects in the scene.
"Is this your life now? Is this what you do? Since your papa lost his money?"
Oh. So he really had gone bankrupt. Loser began to become more glad he had left whilst he could.
"Since before that, actually. My family has a bad name in your circles and I don't want to be part of it anymore."
"Is this one of your crazy philanthropy deals?" Ruby asked, a glint in her eye and she skipped around the bonnet of the white Rolls Royce, resting her head on her palms. Loser denied her an answer.
"Come on! Tell me why you work here... it's so clean yet so dirty!"
"It was the best paid job I could get without a resume. The only thing I have going for me is that I was born rich."
Ruby's face dropped a little. What a boring and unsatisfactory answer. She was sure she could get a better one later, maybe - maybe over dinner? What a scandal that would be! A noblewoman and a car wash worker going on a date! The idea was delicious.
"Say, Loser. How about we catch up a bit more at the nearest restaurant to here? Tonight at six. You'll be off at six, won't you?"
"There's no restaurants for miles. Just cheap cafés. Nothing anyone of your stature would be interested in."
"As long as the tea is good."
Loser sighed. It didn't look like he was going to be able to get out of this one. Besides, it might be quite interesting to see what everybody else was getting up to nowadays; he hadn't seen those of the upper circle in years, and even though he had little to no intention of returning, he didn't like the idea of constantly being in the dark about their various mildly interesting doings.
"Ok. Diamond in the Rough Cafeteria at six tonight." he sighed, grumbling into the greasy lapel of his shirt.
"Marvellous! I can't wait..."
Ruby turned to her chauffeur threateningly, her character switching in a flash.
"If you tell anybody about this..."
The chauffeur nodded his wizened head obediently and strode back to the driver's seat of the Rolls Royce, Ruby trotting behind as if being towed by him on a string. The driver bowed as he opened the door for the lady. She flounced in without thanking him. Unbothered by her indifference to him, he made doubly sure all her dress folds were inside the car, then pushed it firmly shut, before beginning to approach Loser and speak for the first time.
"Do you think I could possibly still get a wash on this thing, sir? How much do you charge?"
"How much do you have?" Loser asked, then realising how that might sound, he corrected himself.
"I mean, different treatments have different prices. We charge everybody the same."
The driver looked at him sideways, wary and unsure, as Loser began to point and explain the washing station, returning back once again to do his job.