Page 42 of UNAwere

‘There… are… but only when we’re notified in advance, because they’re kept at another lot. And the car you’re swapping from is perfectly fine. You’re free to keep using it, and—’

‘No, we can’t.’ Briggs enunciates his words and uses his hands like karate chops against the counter to emphasise them.

I force back a smile.

‘I told you, this is a matter of secrecy. The pickup no longer serves us.’

‘Right…’ Parker says. He taps a few things into his computer. ‘What was the name the rental was under?’

‘Briggsy.’ Briggs quickly stutters, shaking his head. ‘Briggs. The name is Briggs.’

I grin. Widely.

Parker nods, watching what loads onto his screen. ‘Yeah, so, I’m afraid it’s like I’ve said—’

‘Is there a manager I can speak with?’ Briggs asks.

‘He’s on lunch.’

I press my lips. ‘Sorry,’ I tell Parker. He looks at me, eyes wide. ‘He didn’t get the memo that the saying “The customer is always right” ends in “In matters of taste”.’

‘I’m—What—?’ Briggs runs his hands down his face and sighs. ‘I’m just… Can you please wait outside?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I’m enjoying this.’

‘Sybbie,’ he warns.

I raise my brows, surprised to hear my name on his tongue.

‘You need to keep me in sight at all times,’ I say.

‘I can see you through the window.’

I glance at Parker, as if he’s going to help me. The kid glances between us, obviously uncomfortable.

‘Sybbie,’ Briggs warns again.

I let out an exaggerated sigh and leave the office.

Outside, the sun’s waning, the clouds heavy with rain. I ate a muffin at the motel this morning, while I waited for Briggs to get off the phone with Warner, but my stomach rumbles, still hungry. I glance around the lot we’re in. Across from the car hire place is a fast-food chain selling hot dogs. I hum, biting my lip, and glance over my shoulder at where Briggs is still karate chopping the counter as he tries to get through to Parker. The poor kid looks terrified.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. My bank card was saved into my phone’s wallet a while back when Maeve demanded I “keep up with the times”. We’d been shopping for clothes, and when she’d seen me pull out my physical plastic card, she’d almost had an aneurysm.

I wonder how she is. I wonder whether Nolan told her about what happened to me with the Karvers, and then immediately doubt it. She’d be the last person he’d tell.

I peer back at Briggs again. He’s gone to pacing. I’m not sure why he’s so outraged by the idea of driving a two-seater hatchback, but I suppose it would be hard for him to fit inside it. I know he’s not going to be ready any time soon, so I make my way across the lot and head inside the hot dog restaurant. Dirty Dogs isn’t the best name for a hot dog joint, but what do I know?

I order a meal with fries and a cola, and then lean against the wall while I wait for my number to be called. The place is fairly busy, with people sitting at tables or standing about. Orders get called out every two minutes, and I look at the number I was given.

103.

‘Ninety-nine!’ the girl behind the counter yells.

I sigh, my stomach grumbling a complaint.

‘What number are you?’ a voice asks.

Jumping, I glance at the man standing beside me. He’s smiling kindly, his eyes soft. He doesn’t appear to be much older than me, and his cheeks are cleanly shaven, his brown hair mussed in a way that looks like it was on purpose.