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Me: Hey you, hope you’re having a good day. Wanted to let you know I got let off work early so meet me at my place instead.

 

I’ll give him ten minutes to respond before doing anything, hoping he serendipitously got the afternoon off too.

Twelve minutes later…no reply.

Okay, what now? I don’t have the extra money to get a cab or Uber (not that I would anyway because I find that whole system suspect), so walking it is. To…somewhere, just until the bus comes.

I say goodbye to the two warm bodies in the diner then take off down the sidewalk, thinking of it as a spontaneous adventure. And across the street, a consignment boutique catches my eye.

The moment I step inside, a bubbly older woman is right in front of me, with a beaming smile and an eagerness radiating off her.

“My, aren’t you a pretty one? I’m Kelly Kerr, owner ofAnother Lady’s Treasure.” She spreads her arms open and spins, obviously, and rightfully so, proud of her store. “Have you been in before?”

“No, but I’m glad I found it today. Your shop is lovely.” My eyes roam over the organized plethora of high-end merchandise.

“Thank you. Anything particular I can help you find today, uh…”

“Bellamy,” I smile.

“And a pretty name. So, you work at The Pit Stop?” She eyes my uniform.

“Yes, but only part-time. I take a pretty full load at college, when it starts back up.” I traipse deeper into the shop and start looking through a rack of clothing I could never afford.

Or could I…

“Is this really only eleven dollars?” I hold up the cutest, distressed-washed jean skirt (maybe a wee bit short) I’ve ever seen.

“It is,” she has a wonderful, kind laugh. “I think it’d look absolutely perfect on you, too. Those legs? That skirt.” She nods decisively. “Now, what to go with it?”

“Um…” I chew my lip, mentally inventorying my current wardrobe. “No idea. I’m going to a concert Friday night, kinda country, so-”

“So boots and a cute vest!” She may be more excited than I am…andoverestimating my budget. She runs around from rack, to shelf, to me. “Here,” she piles my arms full, “go try it all on together and let me see.”

“Kelly, I-”

“Hush, just go,” she gently pushes me toward the dressing room.

I pull the curtain behind me and first things first—add up the price tags.

Skirt- $11

Fabulous brown ankle boots with a western, rhinestone pattern- $20

Wide, brown leather belt with buckle that matches the boots- $10

Jade green, tight fitting shelf tank top- $5

Black vest- $5

The positively perfect Sam Hunt concert outfit for only fifty-one dollars. And tax.

I made thirty-three dollars in tips today and need one of those to pay for the bus.

“Bellamy? Everything okay in there?”

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