Page 96 of Felonies are Forever

“I manage the place, so whatever this is—”

“Fine. That’s fine.” He holds out a white envelope and I hesitate before taking it. “I’m going to make a note that the manager was here instead.”

I frown as I start to open it. “What is this?”

“Official proceedings. You took out a loan a year ago and you haven’t made a payment for…” He thinks for a moment. “Four months. It’s all in the documents.”

My jaw drops. The loan I took out for repairs to the equipment? “There’s some mistake. I cleared that with the bank manager. She agreed to a short payment arrangement—”

“That’s right, a two-month hiatus on repayments. That’s over now and some new information has come to light suggesting that your business has not maintained its licensing and inspections in accordance with the Standards Division, which are required to continue your line of credit. You’re in default.”

“What? What new information?”

I knew about the payments, I just thought that I might be able to take another hiatus, or make a smaller payment. When I spoke to the manager at the bank, she seemed cool and understanding but I guess that was all bullshit.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge that information,” he says, then nods at the papers I’m holding. “Everything you need to know is in there. You have thirty days.”

What the fuck? I glance down at the top page of the stack and see the figure, the amount I need to pay within thirty days, wondering how much Advil I have left in my desk drawer. Whatever it is, it’s probably not enough. “And if I can’t?”

“Sheriff’s sale on the property will proceed,” he says, glancing at the building with a frown.

I can’t say I blame him.

“Consider yourself served. Thirty days,” he repeats, then turns and walks back to his Toyota Corolla. He starts the engine and pulls away, leaving me looking at the disaster in my hands.

If Dad finds out, it would put him in an early grave for sure. I draw a deep breath and look at the figure again, try to see it for what it is, just numbers on a page. Thinking with my head, not my stomach which can’t take much more of this.

My work phone starts to buzz, and I draw it out hopefully. “Good morning, Z’s, how can we help you?”

“This is the department of weights and measures. I’d like to speak to Mr. Zd-zin-ski please.” He pronounces the name very carefully.

My heart sinks. “I’m the manager,” I say without enthusiasm. “What can I help you with?”

“And your name?”

“Lula—” I pause, then decide maybe some distance will be more strategic. “Laurence. Mr. Zdzinski is not well and I’m running things.”

“Well, Ms. Laurence, this is a courtesy call to let you know we’ll be stopping by tomorrow for an accuracy check on your scale. Please have it ready for inspection from 9 am.”

“What? Why?”

Now I’m in full on panic mode. The scale is broken. We’ve known it for a couple weeks, we just don’t have the funds to fix it. We have a little work-around with a metal pry bar we’ve been using with our customers, but it’s not legal. But it’s not like I’vecheated anyone. All our customers know I adjust in their favor to compensate, not the other way around.

“We’ve had a report of potential fraud,” the voice on the other end of the line says, as if it’s just another day at the office.

“Tomorrow’s not really convenient,” I say, trying to think of a way around both this and the debt, and not seeing anything except stalling tactics. “Could we reschedule for next week?”

“That’s not how we work. 9 am.”

“But—”

The line is already dead, like my chances of keeping this place afloat. Before I’ve even had chance to take another breath, the phone rings again, my mom’s name lighting up the screen. Can’t a girl get a moment’s peace?

“What?” I snap as I put the phone to my ear.

“Lula, that’s not very nice. I tried your personal number and you didn’t pick up, so I guessed you must be at work.”

“Yes, and I’m busy, Mom, so unless this is life or death—”

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