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“Shouldn’t you be married by now, or at least have a boyfriend? You’re old.”
I gasp, narrowing my eyes at a cheerleader over by the door.
“I’m not old. I’m twenty-six.”
“Gross. That’s almost thirty. You’re old.”
“I bet she has a bunch of cats.”
“I haveonecat, and she talks, so there!” I shout to a ghost. “Also, the 1950s called, and they want their stereotype back.”
“We don’t even know what that means.” The cheerleader rolls her eyes at me.
“Exactly. Because you’re just a tiny little baby child who doesn’t understand how life works.”
Kenny quickly reaches across his desk and grabs my arm, making me realize I was actually starting to lunge toward a ten-year-old.
“I thought you liked kids,” he whispers.
“I do. I just don’t likethesekids.”
Good God, what is wrong with me? This is all Ford’s fault for messing with my head.
One of the parents from the group waiting outside finally opens the door, ushering the kids back outside to move on to the next business.
“So, what brings you here this afternoon, other than wanting to fight some children?” Kenny chuckles as he takes a seat behind his desk, pulling open the top drawer to look for something.
I push the Ziploc of change and the stack of bills across his desk. “Just paying my fines from October Eve. Sorry it took me so long. I kept planning on stopping in, and then I kept getting distracted.”
By a man in flannel with a dirty mouth, who cast some kind of spell over me.
“That was a waste of a trip,” Kenny mutters distractedly, still rifling through his drawer. “Those were already charged to the credit card on file.”
“What?”
Kenny’s hand pauses inside the drawer, and his head whips up to look at me.
“Oh shit,” he whispers before quickly backpedaling. “I mean, yes! Of course you should pay for your own fines. Here, let me take that….”
I quickly pull the money closer to me when he reaches his hands out. “Kenny, what are you talking about? I don’t have a credit card on file.”
I don’t even have a credit card, period. The only reason I was able to rent my place is that Mrs. Boreffi doesn’t do credit checks on locals.
“You’re still not paying attention, are you?”
Ford’s words echo in my head, and I quickly shake them away, narrowing my eyes on the man in front of me when he picks up his phone and brings it to his ear.
“Sorry, gotta make this phone call.”
Reaching over the desk, I smack my fingers down on the hang-up button. “Kenny,” I growl.
He slowly lowers the phone from his ear with a sigh. “You know what; I don’t care if I get my ass kicked. I’m tired of being in the middle of this. Go ask Marcus.” And then he hangs up the phone when I pull my hand away from it.
I was not at all expecting those words to come out of his mouth. “Marcus? What does Marcus have to do with this?”
Knowing it’s not who I thought it was should make me feel better, right? But Marcus and Callie can’t afford my fines. They have a mortgage, car payments, the Jav-A-Lantern, Callie’s student loans, and a puppy who eats more than an entire football team combined.
What in the hell is going on right now?
