Inside the station, she’s next in line for the counter and I see Ben Allinese working the register. From the glances he flicks Em’s way, I guess there’s no love lost between the two of them.
I snatch a bag off the nearest shelf without really looking. Gummy worms, not really my style. Lucky my mum’s got a sweet tooth. When I join the queue, there’s another customer between us. Em doesn’t turn.
“You got the money?” Ben asks in a bored voice as the man ahead of her walks away, tucking a receipt in his wallet, a two-dollar coffee in his hand.
“No.”
Her chin juts out in defiance, but Ben’s expression doesn’t change. “Then stand aside. There’re other customers waiting.”
“I need my car.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you filled it with petrol you can’t afford.” His eyes shoot to the man ahead of me. “Next.”
Em steps to the side, her throat working as though she’s swallowing back tears. Wouldn’t blame her.
I still remember the time my mother took me out for a fancy lunch and couldn’t afford to pay the bill at the end. There’s been more than one occasion like that. They merge into one enormous ball of societal pressure, deep embarrassment, and a lingering aftertaste of regret.
My father learned not to leave us in such dire straits. The resulting pleas and phone calls were more hassle than he needed.
Now, our monetary situation always pegs somewhere between good and great. My dad is generous when he wants something and what he wants most in the world is to live a peaceful life with his new wife and kids and forget about his first aborted attempt at a family.
Em pulls out her phone, turning and hunching her shoulder for the scant privacy it affords. I hear her talking in a low voice, seeded with urgency, but can’t make out the individual words.
Once the terse conversation is at an end, she leaves to use the bathroom, returning moments later with her face wiped clean of makeup. The change is extraordinary. She looks soft, defenceless,young.Her petite body held so tight it looks like it would shatter with a well-timed blow.
Her head is lowered, gaze on the floor. I don’t know if she even sees me. I feel invisible, a sensation I don’t appreciate at all.
The man in front of me finishes his transaction and heads on his way, Ben’s blank face turning to me. I toss the bag of lollies on the counter. “This and her petrol.” I jerk my head towards Em.
She glances over, eyes avoiding mine as she says, “No,” so quickly Ben doesn’t even get the chance to ring up the charges. “I’m sorted.”
“You don’t look sorted.”
She shakes her head and Ben keeps his hand frozen an inch above the keys. “So, what is it? You paying or what?”
Em clears her throat, still not raising her eyes from the floor. “Someone’s coming.”
Her expression tells me either the ‘someone’ is going to extract a lot more mileage from this encounter than it warrants or she’s lying through her teeth.
Either way, I don’t care. My new mission in life is to force this issue until Em owes me. I want to see how much more she can seethe before she has a complete breakdown. Just the thought turns me on so much I believe I’ve discovered a new kink.
I turn back to Ben. “Ring it up.”
Em shakes a finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare.”
“Ring it up or I’ll call your boss and ask him to explain why you’re deliberately misleading your customers.”
“She’s not a customer if she can’t pay. She’s a thief.”
Her wince at that word hits me right in the breastbone. “You’re meant to give her an invoice,” I tell him. Having an erratic mother is one good way to know exactly what’s supposed to happen at every venue when you can’t afford to pay. “Then give her forty-eight hours to pay before you call the police.” I lean forward, tensing my biceps so they can be seen under the thin wool of my jersey. “There’s no law that allows you to hold her car.”
Ben’s eyes jolt away, a clear sign he knows exactly how he’s meant to handle the situation. Knows but didn’t. Guess he and Em have some kind of history because an employee trusted enough to be left in sole charge wouldn’t usually play so fast and loose with the rules.
The devil inside me can’t resist another little dig. Just to see a shot land. “It’s only once it gets over forty-eight hours that you can call her athief.”
“I told you it’s sorted,” she explodes. “Do I look like I need your help?”
“Yes.” I let my eyes crawl slowly up her body, smirking when her nipples stiffen under the attention. “You look like you’redesperatefor help.”
