Even though I’d been so close to being a part of their family.
I rested my sweating forehead against the hot steering wheel. “I can’t force you to believe me, but I never told him that.”
“I believe my son.”
“I know you do,” I whispered. “Can I get an advance on my salary?” I blurted out.
“Youdon’t work forusanymore.”
Yeah, I’d figured they’d fire me.
“But can you please at least send me the salary you owe me for the last two weeks? I really need it. Jimmy andherhave run up charges on my credit card and drained my bank account. I literally havenomoney.”
“That’s not my problem, Lexi,” she said. “You caused your own problems in this world, and it’s not anyone else’s responsibility to bail you out.”
“But that’s my salary for the last few weeks. I worked at your company and earned that money. And I had a month’s paid vacation time saved up for the honeymoon that you should pay me for, too.”
I’d worked every dang day for four solid years at Johnson Construction to save up the vacation time.
“Your paid time off is forfeit because you were firedwith cause.”
“You can’tdothat! Iearnedthat paid time off. I don’t think you can even fire me for something that happened in my personal life, even if my personal life was with your son.”
“Our contracts have a morals clause. I think you’ll find the conservative and moral state of Nebraska will be on the side of the employer in this, if you did try to bring a lawsuit against us.”
My breath hitched in my throat as the air became hotter in my car, licking my skin like flames. “I didn’t do it.”
“Don’t call me again, Lexi. Your last paycheck for the time youactuallyworked will be direct-deposited in three weeks, on schedule, but you don’t deserve any paid vacation time.”
“Not even for the week I’ve been preparing for the wedding, moving out of my apartment, and driving here?”
Her voice growled more harshly. “Not for dragging us down to Las Vegas on a fool’s errand, no. I should have known that you were a whore when you chose Sin City for your wedding.”
The phone’s screen turned black.
Jimmy had chosen Las Vegas because it was close enough for his family to drive and it had cheap flights for his college friends.
Crying tended to give me a sinus headache, so I clenched my teeth and tightened my fists around the steering wheel and tried to hold it off, and then I tried to be silent while the headache bloomed behind my eyes, and then I crumpled over sideways so at least no one could see me crying while the car’s console between the front bucket seats jammed against my ribs.
Those miserable hours were my first hot, vulnerable summer night homeless in Las Vegas.
Rolling up the windows turned the car into an oven even without the sun, so I lowered them to half-open.
Around two in the dark morning, my uneasy dozing in the reclined driver’s seat broke when a man pounded on my windshield, screaming that bats were chasing him.
I jabbed the ignition button, slammed the car into gear, and drove away, moving it to another, cheaper parking garage farther away from the Strip. Garages seemed safer than flat, open lots where anyone could see a young woman sleeping in my car.
The fitful sleep that finally came just before dawn never really settled in.
Camping in my car was not a long-term solution. The car was moderately safer than sleeping on a sidewalk, but I was painfully aware that my savings were gone and I was unemployed.
My financial safety net was broken.
I was falling hard.
Even the roach motels on the outskirts of Vegas charged more per night than what would be a week’s rent for a studio apartment. If I stayed in a crappy hotel, my credit card would hit its absolute limit in two days, and then there would be no more money.
I needed cash, and I needed it fast.
