Page 31 of The Rogue

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sure. I don’t want sad music.”

“I could play you your favorite emo band.”

“Don’t,”she said, but she smiled.

Which was how she found herself rocking out in Justice’s truck to music from the early 2000s. That carried them all the way to Mapleton and saved her from being completely maudlin. And she marveledagain at Justice’s ability to carry her through multiple moods in one extended moment.

The bank was in an old brick building on Mapleton’s main street, and Justice pulled up to the curb, while Rue worked at psyching herself up.

“You know what’s wrong with all of this,” she said as she got out of the truck.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s that none of this is moving at a slow enough pace for me to make a binder or laminate anything.”

“Well. We could laminate Asher’s dick.”

It was such an unexpected thing to hear on a public street, and she couldn’t help herself. She laughed. She didn’t just laugh; she began to laugh hysterically. Because she was hysterical. Because everything that had happened in the last couple of days was outrageous. And here she was just marinating in all of it. Unable to escape. She would be dealing with the issue with the house even if she and Asher had gotten married, and if she stood back for a second she could realize that. That the issue with the house was separate. That it was something she and Asher would be dealing with together instead of her and Justice. But it felt entwined. It certainly compounded the issue. It was just... horrendous. And she was wounded, angry, and the idea of laminating her ex-fiancé’s penis was really the most ridiculous and hilarious thing she had ever thought of.

“You okay there?”

“I’m fine,” she wheezed. “I mean, I’m not fine. Nothing is fine. Everything is terrible. But that was hilarious. Like genuinely the funniest thing you could’ve said.”

“I’m here all week.”

She wiped the tears out of her eyes. “Now I have to go do serious banking.”

“Well, at least you’ll do it with a little bit more of a bounce in your step.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

They walked in together, and Rue approached the banker’s desk cautiously. “I have to speak to someone about a home loan.”

“An established loan?”

“Yes. It’s a little bit complicated, though. It was my grandmother’s, and she died, and there’s an account for it, and the money just comes out.”

“Do you have the loan number?”

“Yes.”

She gave all the information to the woman sitting at the desk.

The woman frowned. “We don’t own this loan any longer. It was transferred to another mortgage company two months ago.”

“What?”

“This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“You don’t have to... ask to sell somebody’s mortgage?”

“No,” the woman said.

“I don’t... That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

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