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“And you make bank with them?”
“Pretty damn close. They help cover additional expenses that always seem to surface.”
Like the water heater last month. And the bald tires on my truck a couple months back – although to be fair, I only purchased take-offs, a slightly used set from another vehicle.
“So why don’t you accept his offer, and make something unique for him?”
“I don’t want my name associated with his business.”
She rocked back and forth, her head tipped up to the roof of the tent. “But, and hear me out, he doesn’t know the true cost, right?”
“No. The custom prices aren’t listed anywhere, that’s what the consult is for.”
“For his piece, raise the cost. Tack on the pain and suffering, all your lost wages, everything he screwed you over for. Add it into his bill, somehow, somewhere. You’re smart, you could figure out how.”
“No, I can’t. I can’t just add a pain and suffering surcharge, like a shipping and handling charge.” No doubt if he saw that on the bill, he’d refuse. I certainly would. And I’d blackball the person who did it to me, something I didn’t need him to do.
“Build it in.”
“I can’t do that, Lib.”
“Sure, you can, and without a doubt, you should. Inflate the prices of everything. The government does.” Libby and her conspiracy theories.
“They absolutely do not.”
“Oh, they do.” She bobbed her head. “In Independence Day that guy said they charged twenty thousand bucks for a hammer, and thirty grand for a toilet seat.”
“That’s a movie.”
“But there’s truth in there, somewhere, right?” Her lower lip extended in a wee pout, and suddenly I knew exactly where Vera had picked it up.
I narrowed my eyes. “I can’t charge him more just because.”
Her voice was as solid as a fir tree. “Oh yes, you can. And you should. Stick it to him. He’s a rich business guy, he can afford it, and he gets a tax break. Why do you think he was so concerned about it being a local business? Government subsidies for the rich.”
She had a point, a small one, but a point, nonetheless. I wouldn’t be sticking it to him per se, but to his business, and no doubt, there was some kind of tax relief in it for that. “Well… You’re definitely onto something.”
“I know I am. You can get revenge on him. Seven years in the making.” She leaned back and shook her fists in the air while letting out an evil cackle.
“You need help.” However, I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as she drummed her fingers together. “I don’t know if I agree with the whole financial revenge idea, but I’ll give it some serious consideration.”
“Do it!” She cackled again and walked back to her table.
What was the harm if it was a little higher priced? It’s not like he’d ever find out, right?
Chapter Three
Sitting at the kitchen table, I placed my aching head into the palm of my hands. It was nearing ten, almost bedtime, but I couldn’t sleep just yet. Libby’s idea circulated in my head like a Dremel tool at high speed. Part of me disagreed with boosting his price, but the other part – the one that got royally screwed over – that part wanted revenge. Big time. However, crunching the numbers, even if I did bump the fees, it wouldn’t make up for all I’d lost, but it would help.
I had lost my job and nearly lost my apartment. But the scariest part was the emotional damage done – I’d been so violently ill, I thought I was going to lose my baby too. As did the doctors. Thankfully, I didn’t, and my family pitched in to help, but still. Scary to think how close to rock bottom I’d actually gotten – all over an improperly prepared chicken wrap.
Tipping my head back and staring at the dried water stain on the ceiling, I threw my question into the universe.
“Should I bump his fee because it’s him? Should I?”
Not expecting an answer, I sighed and closed my laptop. Perhaps a night of sleep would shed some light on it.
Francesca, my twenty-six-year-old sister, sauntered into the kitchen bright and early for a Monday morning. She poured herself a coffee from the fresh pot I’d just made and sat at the table.
