“That’s a Flying Spur, isn’t it?”
I frantically peered around the interior of the car, fearful of a venomous bug trying to bite me. “What? Where?”
“Your Bentley!” He beamed at me like I was Santa Claus. “I’ve never seen one in person, but it is, isn’t it—a Flying Spur?”
I’d taken Robert’s car because my own mode of transport, an old Toyota Corolla, was low on gas. Desperate for coffee, I hadn’twanted to take the time to stop and fill the tank. Technically, it was theft, but I doubted Robert was going to file a police report, given his cowardliness in avoiding me altogether. Hell, he’d probably let me keep the damn thing just to dodge me.
“Oh. I have no idea. It’s my boyfriend’s?—”
Ouch. That hurt.A lot.
I cleared my tightening throat. “It’s a loaner. Maybe it will say the model on the back? Check when I drive past.”
“I’m pretty sure it is. That’s a trusting boyfriend you’ve got,” he said with a laugh. “Better be careful driving around!”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The car. It’s like two hundred grand! I know this because I picture it in my daily manifestations.”
I gulped hard. Criminy, did he meandollars? I was basically driving what would amount to a house in some parts of America. Had I known, I would have been more careful taking those corners I’d zipped around.
He pulled a phone from his back pocket. “Mind if I take a photo?”
I smiled as politely as possible.I’ll let you take pictures of me naked on the back of an alligator if you’d just give me my damn coffee.
“Not at all,” I said. “But I’m going to turn my head. I just rolled out of bed.”
And vomited. And had flashbacks of my ex’s severed head being pulled out of a fountain. Did I also mention being dumped by the love of my life?
He snapped a couple pics and then handed over my coffee. “No charge,” he beamed. “Thanks for, you know.” He held up his phone and gave it a shake.
At least someone was happy. “No problem. Thanks for the coffee.”
I burst into tears as I turned out of the parking lot. I physicallyachedfor Robert. I missed him so much.
Once the road got too blurry because of my sobbing, I pulled off the highway and parked at the very back of a strip mall. I was beyond caring how deranged I looked as I sat alone in a Flying Bentley Whatever, bawling my eyes out as I pounded the steering wheel like a gorilla.
9
Ihad no clue how long I’d sat there crying in the parking lot. By the time I was finished, so was my coffee. It could have been ten minutes or an hour.
I did feel better, though. Sometimes you reallydoneed a good cry. And caffeine.
I saw a branch of my bank at the edge of the mall, which was convenient. I needed to check my account balance at the ATM. It was something I easily could have done on my phone or computer, but I thought forcing myself to go out in public would encourage me to get it together—the emotional equivalent of fake it ‘till you make it. It would be far too easy to fall apart at home (Robert’shome, my brain corrected) where nobody was watching.
Although I didn’t want to stress myself further, I had to start thinking about finances, since I’d soon find myself without a home. I nearly started bawling again as I imagined apartment hunting in San Francisco, a prospect almost as horrendous as being cheated on by my vampire boyfriend. A vacant apartment in the city offered at a reasonable price, not that such a thing even existed anymore, could net dozens of applications. I’dhardly be ahead of the competition, either, as I was still unemployed.
Robert had insisted that I not settle for work out of desperation. He’d suggested that I take my time finding a dream job in the field of psychology, since it was what I’d studied at university and felt passionate about. He’d even gone so far as talking me out of applying for a couple unappealing entry-level positions, stating that he’d be pleased to take care of me in the meantime.I have billions of dollars but only one Olivia,he’d said.If you’re not happy, I’m not happy, my love.He’d sounded so convincing at the time.
I snorted. Yet another way Robert had screwed me over. He’d obviously been considering ditching me for some time. He should have insisted that I take any job that had come my way so that I’d have funds saved to move out on my own. Instead, he’d lulled me into a state of false security, emotionally and financially.
That wasn’t to say I was without blame. I shouldn’t have been so trusting and willing to give up control over my life. I knew better than to let my fate rest in the hands of a man—avampireman, even. I should have done the wise thing and taken care of myself from the beginning.
Now, I’d be scraping by, impoverished. It would be like going back to being a broke college student. Was that the life for which I was fated, always two steps forward, one step back?
Pathetic.
I sighed, feeling sorry for myself. Ah, depression, the gift that kept on giving.
