Page 9 of Nanny for the Bikers

The truck sputters to a stop, the engine coughing out one final gasp as I shift into park.

I climb out of the truck, the cool night air washing over my skin as I make my way towards the pump. The hum of the fluorescent lights and the distant whoosh of passing cars fill the silence, a strange sort of lullaby in the stillness of the night.

With shaking hands, I slide my card into the reader and wait for the familiar beep of approval. But instead, the screen flashes red, a harsh buzz filling the air.

“What the hell?” I mutter, frowning at the display. “Insufficient funds?”

Confusion swirls through me, mingling with a rising sense of panic. I know I have money in my account. I just checked it this morning. There’s no way I could have blown through thousands of dollars in a single day.

I try again, my fingers fumbling as I punch in my PIN. But the result is the same, the angry buzz of rejection echoing in my ears.

“Come on, come on,” I plead, my voice cracking with desperation. “Please, just work.”

I try again, running out of gas at a fairly abandoned gas station doesn’t sound like my version of a good time.

But the pump remains stubbornly uncooperative, the screen blinking back at me mockingly.

I step back, my mind racing as I try to make sense of what’s happening. Maybe it’s just a glitch, a temporary hiccup in the system. Maybe if I go inside and talk to the cashier, they can help me sort it out.

I turn towards the store and push the door open. It reeks, and there’s hardly anything on the shelves. I approach the counter, my heart hammering in my chest as I meet the cashier’s gaze. He doesn’t look much older than me, with bleached hair and tired eyes.

“Hi,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m having some trouble with the pump outside. My card keeps getting declined.”

The cashier raises an eyebrow, his eyes flickering down to the card in my hand. “Let me see that,” he grunts, holding out his hand.

I pass it over, watching as he swipes it through the reader. But the machine beeps angrily, flashing the same error message that I saw outside.

“Declined,” the cashier says, his tone flat and unsympathetic. “You got another way to pay?”

I shake my head, my throat tightening with panic. “No, that’s impossible. There must be some mistake. Can you try it again?”

The cashier sighs, but he complies, swiping the card a second time. And then a third. But each attempt yields the same result, the same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Frustrated, I pull out my phone, my fingers shaking as I open up my banking app. I stare at the screen, my eyes widening in disbelief as I take in the balance: $0.00.

No, that can’t be right. I had over three thousand dollars in there this morning, my entire savings from the past year. How could it all be gone?

And then it hits me, a realization that slams into me like a freight train. Kyle. He must have drained my account, just like he did to Mom so many times before.

The thought sends a surge of anger through me, hot and bitter and all-consuming. That bastard. That fucking bastard. How could he do this to me? How could he take the one thing I had left, the one thing that was supposed to be mine?

I feel like I can’t breathe like the walls are closing in on me. The cashier is saying something, but his words are distant and muffled, drowned out by the roaring in my ears.

“Freaking typical,” I mutter. “Of course, he’d do this. Of course, he’d find a way to screw me over, even when I’m miles away from him.”

I close my eyes, trying to block out the memories that threaten to overwhelm me. The sound of Kyle’s voice slurred with alcohol and rage. The feel of his hands, rough and unyielding as they leave bruises on my skin for trying to protect my mother. The sight of my mother’s face twisted with fear and despair as she watches him tear our family apart.

I can’t go back to that. I won’t. But where do I go from here? What do I do when the one thing I thought I could count on has been stolen from me?

But I can’t give up. I won’t let Kyle win, won’t let him break me like he’s broken Mom. I have to find a way forward, even if I don’t know what that looks like yet.

“Miss…” the cashier says, breaking me free from my thoughts. “If you don’t have another way to…”

Maybe I can just…I hate myself for the thought, but what other choice do I have? I refuse to go back and I need to keep going. I put a flirtatious smile on my face and read the name tag on his shirt. ‘Alex’.

This works whenever I want free drinks at the bar. “I seem to be in a bit of a bind,” I say, leaning forward and batting my eyelashes. “My card’s not working, and I’m running on empty. Any chance you could help a girl out?”

Alex raises an eyebrow, his blue eyes assessing me with a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Sorry, miss. No can do. If your card’s declined, there’s not much I can do about it.”

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