Page 6 of Saved By My Buyers

“Nope,” I grunt. I’m being a brat because it’s two feet from my apartment door, but I’m being hit with the full force of how messed up everything is and I don’t appreciate it. Tears prick my eyes as I also think about how I haven’t spoken to my mom in months.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” he asks. “Dolly?—”

“I’m not,” I lie, forcing myself not to stomp back to the dresser. With my luck, he’ll be able to hear it, or worse yet, the people who live beneath me will get pissed off. Sniffing, I brush away a tear quickly.

I don’t need anyone when I have myself.

“I think you forget why I say I have Dolly radar,” he says. “I can usually tell when you’re lying. I should let you win, but I can’t. I’m going to have fucking nightmares about this. I had to do really illegal things to even find this phone number.”

Chuckling even though it’s not funny, I say, “I was wondering how you were calling when the one person who has this number doesn’t use it.”

“That’s not funny,” he says. “She hasn’t been calling you to check in?”

“No,” I state, finishing up my work. “I haven’t heard from her in over three and a half months. Mom pays for the utilities, the rent, my phone that may as well be a paperweight, and that’s about it. Oh, I have food delivered to the apartment. It’s connected to a card that I assume is hers. I guess that’s how she’s measuring that I’m still alive. She can see the card processing charges.”

Jack snorts, covering it up, while I smirk. Maybe I’ll actually get away with this for a bit longer. I don’t enjoy hiding that my mom doesn’t live with me from the world, it’s just a necessity.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says. “You have everything you need in the grand scheme of things. Do you have friends?”

“No, friends aren’t really something I can afford to have,” I explain. “People would want to meet Mom, and that’s not possible. The kids at school are more interested in giving me their money to do their work than being friends, anyway.”

“You’re killing me right now,” Jack groans. “You’re starting high school next year, and I clearly have a shitty idea of what makes a good school. I’m firing myself.”

My tears are drying on my cheeks as quickly as I started, and he’s doing a good job of making me smile.

“You didn’t know they’d all be so self-absorbed,” I tell him. “I don’t have to deal with Cyrus anymore since he moved out, and Mom is travel nursing, which is why she’s not here. I don’t even know where she is. By the way, how did you find my number?”

“I work for a security company,” he reminds me. “I asked one of the guys who does computer work to try to find you. Lucia put your name on this phone line.”

“Oh,” I say. “It’s weird that I’m fourteen-years-old with a phone number in my name, but okay.”

“That’s the weirdest thing about all of this? Really?” Jack asks, making me giggle. I miss him, but I need to get off the phone because I say too much. I want to keep pretending that I have everything under control.

“It is to me,” I murmur. “I have homework I have to do, so I have to go soon.”

“Shit. Yes. Now, is this your homework or someone else’s?” Jack asks, making me wince. He never forgets a thing.

“Both,” I say. “I have to fund my movie streaming app.”

“Don’t you need a credit card for those?” Jack asks, sounding as if he’s worried about his answer.

“I opened an online account that allows minors to have a debit card,” I confess. “There’s a corner store where I can load my card with cash, and then I just make sure the money is there every month.”

“Would it be possible for someone to wire transfer you some funds into it?” he asks nonchalantly.

Jack is devious and smart. I’m actually opening my mouth to tell him that I’m not sure if that’s possible when I realize where he’s going.

“You can’t send me money,” I say instead. At his annoyed huff, I growl under my breath. “No excuses, and no hacking into my account, either!”

“That’s considered illegal, Dolly,” he drawls. He grew up in Florida with Dad until he moved away for college to go to MIT, and Dad went to Florida State University for both undergraduate and law school. I only know this because he told me once when I asked how they met.

“I have a feeling you don’t really care, since we’re on the phone now. Did you forget how you got this number?” I ask.

“Touché,” he says, making me scrunch my nose until the meaning of his word clicks. I need to read for fun more instead of watching so much television. Then, maybe the meaning of things will come easier to me.

“Exactly,” I tell him. “I have to make dinner too.”

“Fuck, wait!” he yells, but I say goodbye over his voice and hang up. I don’t feel like telling him about how I’ve been making meals for myself for a while.

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