Page 26 of Absolutely Pucked
He shot me finger guns and didn’t move or say goodbye as I walked around him and headed for the door. The other barista didn’t so much as look up at me, and now I understood why. Public humiliation number…I didn’t even know anymore. Five thousand sixty-four?
I was infamia—the unwanted—in the customer service world, so where did that leave me?
I had no idea what I was going to do next. I could try again, of course. There were plenty of places hiring around here, but how many times would I go through this? How many people would think I was a joke. Or lying. Or…worse.
The tiny spark of hope I’d been given by that conversation with Daniel began to fizzle out. Dread took its place. And darkness. My chest felt like it was caving in, and I needed to take a moment to breathe.
There was a bus bench, filthy and covered in grey globs that had once been pink chewing gum. I sat anyway. What did it matter these days? I couldn’t give up. That’s what Delia wanted. That’s what gave her the rush of power over me. But I didn’t know how to fix this.
If I called Tucker, he’d probably laugh in my face and tell me this was well deserved. If I knocked onFord’s door and let him see me like this—shaved, hair cut, the same face as the friend I’d betrayed—he’d probably punch me.
What did that leave?
Scrubbing at my eyes, I stood back up and began the walk to my car. I at least had that. My one saving grace. Shelter, if nothing else. Even if the apartment complex told me I had to move, I could do that. I could roam around, nomadic and lost, until Daniel’s ticking clock counted down to zero.
Half a block up the street and five minutes from my car, there was a crack of thunder. Something in the air shifted, and I knew what was coming. The skies opened up, and freezing sheets of water drenched every inch of my skin before I could finish a single, complete breath.
Because of course that happened. Karma wasn’t broken today. I was.
I was shivering by the time the apartment complex sign came into view, and all I could think about was climbing into my car, stripping naked, and curling up under my blanket. It was my one comfort.
Except the universe wasn’t done playing games with me because as I turned the corner and looked for it next to the dumpster, the only thing I saw was an empty space and a single bag lying in the middle of an oil stain with half my clothes dumped out.
A scream lodged in the back of my throat.
This wasn’t my car being towed for illegal parking. No. There was also broken glass on the ground and my phone charger lying in the pile of what was left of my things.
I stared, my entire body numb from the shock andthe cold. And then something bubbled in my gut. A cry?
No.
I doubled over with laughter, my knees going weak before they lost strength completely. I fell onto the pile of broken glass, and I felt it tearing into my skin, though in the moment, there wasn’t any pain. There was just the harsh reality that I was entirely, completely,epicallyscrewed.
The laughter turned into sobbing a moment later when the truth was unavoidable. I had nowhere to sleep, no real money to live on, and no job. My hands scraped along the dirty asphalt as I gathered my things back into the bag.
The zipper had been broken, but everything still fit. Sort of. I tucked the charger into my pocket, and when I stood, I felt the warm trickle of blood falling down my calves. I could deal. I shuffled toward the sidewalk, then stared at the one door I told myself I had to avoid.
But what choice did I have?
All I could do was confess, prostrate myself in front of Ford, and beg for a single moment of charity. I had a feeling he’d give it to me. It would cost him, but I wasn’t ready to roll over and give up.
Not yet.
I just needed a single moment of kindness, but I wasn’t sure if that was too much to ask.
Luckily for us both, when I knocked, he didn’t answer. He wasn’t home yet, which meant I got a moment to think. A moment to figure out if I really should be here in front of his door with a request on my lips I had no right to make.
I slid down the wall beside his doormat, tucked my knees against my chest, and buried my face in them. I could smell car oil and the faint hint of coppery blood from where the glass had torn at my skin.
However long it took Ford to get home, it was going to feel like an eternity.
But I would wait for as long as I needed for this one last surge of hope.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
FORD
