“ID. You’ve officially lost driving privileges. No more car, no more driving yourself anywhere.”
“How the hell am I going to get to school and work?”
Did I mention my parents had bought my car for me?
“One of the prospects will drive you wherever you need to go.”
“That is beyond the pale!” I sputtered. “And child abuse.”
“It’s called consequences of your actions, baby girl.” He glanced at me. “What did Tillie’s guy charge you for this thing, anyway.”
“How’d you know it was Tillie?”
“I didn’t for sure until now.”
“Goddamn it,” I hissed. “Never trust a lawyer.”
“How much, Teagan?”
“Two-fifty. Why?”
“’Cause that’s how much is gonna come out of your next paycheck.”
“What? You can’t do that.”
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna make a charitable donation in your name to Bikers for Kids.”
“That is so unfair.”
“It’s not about fair,” he said. “It’s about you learning the value of a dollar. And to remind you never to give your money over to criminals and scam artists ever again.”
“I think I’ve learned my lesson, I’m not that stupid.”
“I didn’t think you were stupid enough to do this in the first place, but here we are.”
“You’re calling me stupid?”
“No. You are intelligent, resourceful, and quick on your feet. But you did a stupid thing and I need to make sure you understand the gravity of your actions.”
He was right, of course, but I wasn’t about to admit that.
The guy to whom Tillie had referred me wasn’t there but his ‘cousin’ was, and he was super sketch. I should have walked away immediately, but I didn’t and immediately regretted it. The original cost had actually been a hundred bucks, but ‘Hooks’ (the so-called cousin) upped the price when I arrived to pick up the ID, going so far as to offer that I could pay in a different way.
I’d thrown the money at him and gotten the hell out of there as fast as I could. It’s not like I could tell anyone about the encounter. I was doing something illegal, after all, so I was stuck.
“I don’t know what the big deal is. I’m going to be twenty-one in eleven weeks.” I crossed my arms with a groan.
“Driver’s license, baby girl,” Dad prodded.
“You’re not really serious, are you?”
“As a fuckin’ heart attack,” he growled. “Want to add your phone to the pile, too?”
I muttered several expletives under my breath as I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet and dropped it next to the fake.
“Does Mom know you’re doing this?” He raised an eyebrow, and I wrinkled my nose. “Stupid question. Of course she knows about this.”
“We don’t do anything if it’s not together.”
