Page 50 of No Headlines Please

"That I'm a total pushover. But I'm really not." She let out a humorless laugh. "If you asked anyone, they'd tell you flat out, I'm the family trouble-maker."

I wasn't buying it. "I've gotta be honest here. I'm finding that hard to believe."

"Well, believe it," she said. "And my mom has the pictures to prove it."

I couldn't imagine. "Pictures of what?"

Delaney paused as if thinking. "Well…me covered in mud, for starters."

Yeah, right. I gave her a look. "Recently?"

"No," she said, as if my question were ridiculous. "Maybe twenty years ago."

It was pretty much what I'd expected. "So you were branded the family trouble-maker in what? Grade school?"

"I guess. But if you spent any time with us, you'd totally understand."

Maybe. Maybe not. I just waited.

Sounding resigned, she continued. "For starters, I'm nothing like my older sister. She's absolutely perfect." Delaney started counting off on her fingers. "Utterly gorgeous, a terrific student, perfectly polite, and good at literally everything." Delaney tried for another smile. "My mom calls her the golden girl."

The mom was obviously crazy.

I'd seen the sister – not in person, but on video. She hadn't looked so golden to me.

Now, smiling or not, I could see the hurt in Delaney's eyes, and I fought a sudden urge to circle the table and gather her in my arms. Quietly, I asked, "And what does she call you?"

"Nothing now. We haven't talked in months. But that was my doing, not hers."

I didn't bother asking Delaney why. The reason for their estrangement was obvious. The mom was a real piece of work. And this was putting it mildly.

And now, Delaney was saying, "These days, even I call Tessa the golden girl." She gave a listless shrug. "I mean…if the name fits."

By now, I was so pissed, I could hardly speak. With an effort, I tamped it down and met Delaney's eyes. "Forget your sister," I said. "Let's talk about you."

20

Not Technically Borrowing

Delaney

I blinked. He wanted to talk about me?

Was he joking? Already, I had spilled my guts, telling him more than I'd ever planned.

I wasn't even sure why.

True, he'd been a terrific listener, and I felt lighter than I had all day. But continuing to complain seemed like the worst kind of conceit.

Besides, there wasn't much more to tell. I was broke, stranded, and one towing zone away from becoming a permanent pedestrian.

A knot of dread formed in my stomach. Sooner or later, I'd have to retrieve my car – and pay dearly for it, too.

I'd seen those daily rates, and they weren't cheap.

On the upside, a new round of book royalties would be arriving within weeks, so it wasn't like I had no money coming in.

It just wasn't coming in now, that's all.