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His chest heaves. His face contorts. Clearly, the man feels conflicted. Frazzled. He looks at his phone again and visibly shudders. But in the end, he exhales, steps forward, and offers me his arm. “Of course. I’m so sorry, Charlotte.”
As I take his arm, I say, “You’re gonna have to pay for more than a new outfit, you know. You also owe me for lost wages. I just lost out on the perfect job because of you. And then there’s going to be my medical expenses. Pain and suffering.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He stops walking, poised to say more, but before he does, a loud clacking noise followed by a loud beeping sound behind us attracts our mutual attention. Oh, fuck.My car.A guy in a mechanic’s uniform is in the process of preparing it for towing, and he’s almost finished!
“Wait! No!” I scream. I drop the boy bander’s arm and sprint at full speed toward my elevated car, flailing my arms. “Stop! Wait! I’m here!Please!”
I’m too late. By the time I get over there, the job is done. The driver has secured my car for towing, and he’s walking back to his truck’s driver’s side door.
“Please, sir! Wait!” I shout, as I come to a stop at my back bumper. “This is mine. I was only gone for a few minutes. Can you please take it down?”
“Can’t do that.”
“I’ll pay the fine right now. I’ve got a credit card.” I begin frantically rummaging into my purse, but it’s no use. He’s shaking his head.
“You were blocking traffic,” he says flatly. “That’s an automatic tow.”
“I’ll pay the fine. Do you accept credit cards?”
He ignores the question and tells me where I can get it out of impound.
“Impound?” I shriek. “How much will that cost me?”
“Three hundred, if you get it today.”
“Three hundreddollars? Sir, I can’t afford that. I’m here for a job interview. I’m broke. Please, sir, I’m begging you.”
He shrugs. “Action, meet consequences, lady.”
I’m trembling. Sick to my stomach. He’s right, of course. I did this to myself. I let my anger at the boy bander cloud my judgment.Why’d I do that? Normally, I’m grace under pressure, thanks to years of training and dealing with irate, drunk, and/or anxious passengers. I’ve been trained to remain on a burning aircraft and help everyone else out first. And yet, I let some petty asshole with piercing, blue eyes get under my skin?Why, why, why? Ever since I made that colossal, stupid, paranoia-inducing mistake, I’ve turned into someone else. Someone Idon’t recognize. Obviously, karma knows what I did, and she’s arrived to have her way with me now.
Behind me on the sidewalk, the asshole snickers and says, “Your knee seems to have healed in record time.It’s a miracle!”
I turn around, seething with anger. Yes, I’m an idiot. But my crimes are more of the bumbling variety. Whereas, this guy? He’s mean. Petty. Thin-skinned and vengeful. Which is why, as of this moment, I officially hate his fucking guts.
“You called the tow truck on me!” I scream. “You got your fragile ego bruised by a woman at a bar whodaredto be the first, ever, not to flirt back with you, and you couldn’t handle it!”
He’s aghast. Or at least, he’s pretending to be. “You’re so off the mark, it’s insane.” He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. “This was a simple case of actions meeting consequences, like the tow truck guy said. You’re the one who left your car half in the road, not me. Y-you did that. Not me. So, own it.”
I run my palm down my face. I feel like I’m being swept down a river without a life vest. I feel adrift in my life. Out of control. Not to mention, sleep deprived, paranoid, and scared shitless. If I could rewind the clock, I would; but since that’s not possible, I was hoping this job would help me get myself back on track.
“Also,” he says, “I wasn’t flirting with you at Captain’s, so I therefore didn’t feel rejected when you didn’t smile back at me. I was staring at you because I thought you were someone I used to know as a teenager. So, don’t flatter yourself and think I’ve somehow engineered fuckingrevengeagainst you for rejecting me.” He scoffs. “That’s utterly ridiculous. Frankly, the fact that you think I’ve engineered some kind of vengeance plot against you for not flirting with me in a fucking bar tells me everything I need to know about your overblown ego and twisted sense of importance in this world.”
Well, damn. That stings a bit, I must admit. Before I’ve figured out what to say to that, however, the tow truck’s engine roars to life. And then, off it goes, with my car hanging off its back.
As I watch my car being driven away to the tune of three hundred bucks I don’t have, I feel like I’m falling into a deep, dark hole. If it turns out the condo needs more than a fresh coat of paint, I’ll need to go into even more debt on my credit cards. And then what? Will I be able to flip the place for a profit in time to meet that deadline? If not, will I have to go on the run? I can’t imagine doing that, since I can’t go a single day without talking to Tessa. What would be the point of going on the run, if I’m living a miserable life without access to the people I love the most? What if Zach and Claire don’t remember their Auntie Charlotte by the time it’s safe for me to come out of hiding, if ever?
The boy bander slow-claps. “Wow, in addition to artfully faking knee injuries, you’re also brilliant at producing fake tears on command, too. Bravo, Charlotte.”
I wipe my wet cheeks and scowl. “Stop using my name. I didn’t tell it toyou; I told it to your smoking-hot father—who, by the way, is a million times hotter thanyou.” I turn and march down the sidewalk to parts unknown. I know my retort wasn’t a clever one. Also, it wasn’t true. I only asked the silver fox to be my fake boyfriend, rather than his fit, hunky, dreamboat of a son, because I knew an older, rich guy would get under Brody’s skin far more than a young, fit, squeaky-clean, boy-bander type. Brody constantly says, “eat the rich!”, so who better to needle him with than an older dude with a flashy watch and a designer suit? Not to mention, thanks to the exchange of scowls I’d already had with the boy bander, I didn’t think he’d agree to help me, anyway.
“Wow, look at that knee go!” the asshole calls after me. “It’s a miracle, I tell ya.Praise Jesus.”
“Go fuck yourself!” I call back.
He laughs. “Oh, I will. First thing, when I get back home. And when I do it, rest assured,Charlotte, I’ll be thinking aboutyou. Specifically, the look on your face when you saw your car hooked up to the tow truck!”
I don’t have a witty comeback for that one, so I continue marching up the sidewalk without looking back. When I turn a corner and know for certain my sworn enemy can’t see or hear me, however, I let my tears flow.
