“Did you say twelve hundred dollars? You’ve got to be kidding?”
“No, ma’am. Your car runs on cylinders and two of them are shot. Now, I can change out the two that are bad for less, but chances are you’ll need to replace them all. You might get by on them for weeks or even months, but there’s also a chance your car could die again, even while you’re driving it. It doesn’t matter to me either way. Your choice.”
“But, I don’t have that kind of money.”
“When a car gets as old as yours, this tends to happen. Do you want me to fix it or not?”
I lean my head on my hand and close my eyes with the receiver still pressed to my ear. “Can you put me on a payment plan?” I ask.
“We accept all major credit cards.”
I do a mental inventory of the balances on the two cards I still have. They’re both almost maxed out. “I’d prefer to pay cash.”
“You can pay cash, but we won’t release your car until it’s paid in full.”
My boss calls my name and I glance up to see him approaching me. I don’t want him to hear this conversation so I whisper, “Fine, do the work and I’ll pay you as soon as I can.”
“You got it.”
I hang up the phone and smile as brightly as I can under the circumstances.
“Liz, the report you did was fantastic. Do you think you could put together a spreadsheet of the last six months showing a comparison in project costs and revenues for my meeting tomorrow morning?”
Holy fuck. That will take hours. “Sure, no problem.”
As he makes his way back to his office, I push my fingers into my hair and check the time. It’s almost five and I have no way to get home. I rifle through my bag and am happy to find the extra sweater I packed in case I needed something warmer. If I stay here and work through the night, I can toss this sweater on in the morning and maybe no one will notice I didn’t change clothes.
I feel the tears threaten my eyes. Twelve hundred dollars? How am I ever going to afford that? Even if I cancel cable, my cell phone, and skip meals, it’s still going to be a struggle. I wonder if I could take the metro to Buena Park and then catch a bus home. I’ve never done it before, but it can’t be that hard. People commute like that all the time. I surf the internet for train times and bus schedules. It’s very confusing. Before I know it, the office is especially quiet. It’s almost 7 p.m., and I haven’t eaten all day or started the report for tomorrow.
I stretch my arms over my head, deciding to make the best of my situation for now. Since I’m going to be spending the night, I figure I should go downstairs and try to get a sandwich before the cafeteria closes. Pulling my purse from the drawer, I head to the elevators.
I push three and lean against the wall, yawning. I stare at the ceiling and give myself a silent pep talk. I can do this. Somehow, I’ll make it work.
The ping of the elevator announces my arrival and my stomach growls. The door opens to Finn, standing in front of me, glancing at some papers and my mouth drops wide. Switching my gaze from him to the panel, I wonder if I somehow pressed the wrong button. It stopped on four, but three is still lit. I thought he worked on twelve. I’ve never seen the same person twice in this building since I started working here, yet I keep running into him. What the fuck is wrong with my luck these days?
He lifts his head and grins with what I’ve decided is his trademark crooked smile. I bet it woos all the girls, except me. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he says with a wink.
I nod and do my best to fake laugh at the irony. Shit. I don’t need this right now.
“Headed home?” he asks, pressing the button for the garage.
Not wanting him to know about my situation, I lie. “Yep. You?”
“Yes, finally. It’s been a long day. How’d things go with the car?”
“Great. All set,” I respond, not making eye contact.
He leans on the back wall next to me, holding his briefcase. The door opens on three and I ignore it. He leans out the door to see if anyone is waiting. “Did you need to get off here?” he asks me.
“Nope. The guy that was in here before you must have accidentally hit it.”
He purses his lips, twisting his head to view me. I feel like he’s staring and it makes me nervous. My stomach growls again. I cough in an attempt to cover the sound.
The door opens for the exit to the parking garage and he motions for me to go first. I hesitate, not knowing how to behave. I take a step forward, wondering how to fake going to a car that doesn’t exist.
“Wait a sec,” he says, holding his hand out to stop me.
Swallowing hard, I fear he’s figured me out.
