Page 10 of Missed Exit

“If only that were enough.”

She nods and gives me a weak, sympathetic smile. “People don’t usually work too hard for what they don’t need, though. And he doesn’t really need anything more than what he’s already got. If he never becomes a big country music star, he’ll still have plenty of money. And he’ll always be a popular act around here.”

“Yeah, and then one day he’ll wake up and realize he’s got a stomach full of regret and a coping mechanism that’s probably destroying his liver. That’s a scary moment. If you’re strong enough, it’s when you pivot and save yourself. And the one thing Derringer doesn’t seem to have is strength.”

“He’s got a strong voice.”

“That’s not enough to maintain a career. And unless he pulls his head out of his ass, it’s not even going to be enough to start one.” I stand from my barstool. “Never mind on the refill. If he shows up, tell him I’m sending him a bill for all my wasted time.”

5

Greta

Going for Gold

Theshopthathasmy car is half an hour away, and the repair cost they just quoted has me wishing I’d taken more than Brick’s TV. I was saving for a new car when he proposed last year. Suddenly, a wedding seemed like a better use of the funds.

Maybe not smarter, but more fun. It’s all fun and games until you find out your fiancé is a sorry, no-count, lying, sister-in-law-screwing asshole.

The bulk of what I spent was on my dress. It’s still hanging in a closet at my mom’s house. She’s begged me not to make any rash decisions about it. She says just because I’m not marrying Brick doesn’t mean I have to let go of my perfect dress.

Magical thinking obviously runs in the family.

“Let me call you back this afternoon,” I say to the guy on the phone. “I need to think about it.”

“So, you don’t want us to fix your car?”

“That’s what I need to think about. Just out of curiosity, what would you give me for it as is?”

“Ma’am, we fix cars. We don’t buy them.”

“But if I decide not to fix it, then what happens?”

“You’ll have to come get it.”

“It doesn’t run.”

“I guess you’d have to have it towed then.”

“And if I didn’t?”

“We’d send you a certified letter asking you to either authorize the repairs or come get the vehicle. If you didn’t take any action after thirty days, we’d claim ownership.”

“And then you’d sell it, right?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Okay, so let’s say all that has already happened. How much would you be able to get for it?”

The young man sighs as if this conversation is draining his life force. “Miss Gaines, please just come get your car.”

Why does no one want to give a straight answer to a question anymore? Clear and honest communication has become a lost art, I swear.

“I’ll get back to you.”

Law’s front door closes, but I can’t tell if he’s coming or going. I heard his shower running last night right after I went to bed. He wasn’t out late at all, and I think he came home alone.

His knock on my door makes me jump. I haven’t showered yet today. My eyes are probably still swollen from the good, cleansing cry I had over the cereal I ate for lunch. So what if I look sad and unbathed? Who cares?

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