Chapter Twenty-Six
Juniper
D riving down Reena’s street, I eased off the gas a few houses away from her pink bungalow, but then movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.
I glanced across the street.
Panick struck like a triple shot of espresso.
Spilling out onto their front porch—two parents, two kids, book bags, lunch bags, drink tumblers, water bottles—the neighbors made a spectacle of morning chaos as four sets of eyes landed on me, and they all paused for a second in fear.
The drive-by shooting had been two years ago, and as far as I knew, nothing had happened since, but I had firsthand experience with how memories of bad shit ran deep.
Turning my head just enough to hide my face, easing back down on the gas pedal, careful not to accelerate too fast, I drove right past. I couldn’t afford for them to notice me. I couldn’t even afford for them to notice my car.
My heart pounding, sweatier than usual with the air conditioning turned off to save gas, I berated myself for my stupidity. It was one thing to park a block over or a few houses down in the middle of the night, then sneak around to Reena’s back door and let myself in. But it was wholly different to rock up in the morning when everyone was getting their day started.
Taking the next corner, I turned out of Reena’s neighborhood and headed to the nearest branch of my bank. After pulling into one of the furthest spots because it was shaded, I let my car idle as I grabbed my cell and checked the battery life.
Twenty-six percent.
Swiping to my bank app, I looked at the balance even though I already knew what it would be because I’d checked yesterday after coffee, again after gas, and once more before I fell asleep for a few hours.
The same stupid number I’d stared at from last night was still there.
Twenty dollars and sixteen cents.
Sighing, I swiped to the savings account. The one I was supposed to keep a minimum balance of two hundred and fifty dollars in so I could have the “free” checking account. But I’d gotten a flat tire yesterday, and stupid fricking tires were expensive, even used ones.
I was hoping against hope that somehow, someway, the check I’d written for that tire wouldn’t clear until payday, but no such luck.
The fifty-five dollars had already come out of the savings account.
Stupid electronic banking.
Now I’d need to put back fifty-five dollars, plus another ten for the monthly service fee into savings from my measly paycheck. Which meant no motel for me this week. Not that I’d been staying in one hardly at all, but I was trying to at least get a room one night a week so I could, I don’t know, pretend to sleep. And shower somewhere that didn’t make me feel like a complete loser.
I cut the engine and pulled my key out before cracking the door. Then I tipped my head back, closed my eyes, and did the math.
Twenty dollars until payday.
I had half a tank of gas, so I only needed to do laundry, buy coffee so I could have a place to work, and eat.
Thankfully, I still had laundry soap, so I only needed two dollars for one load of laundry, and I’d skip the dryer. Another twelve dollars for one latte today, and one tomorrow, so I could work without guilt and feed my caffeine addiction. And bonus, the calories could count as breakfast and lunch both days. Not ideal, but that left six dollars for food for two days.
Crap.
Sitting up, I grabbed my giant purse and pulled out my wallet.
Checking to make sure it was still there, I exhaled when I saw my emergency five-dollar bill.
Okay, so eleven dollars for two days.
I could make that work. Easily. Four bucks for a jar of generic peanut butter, three for a loaf of store-brand bread, and some self-control. Or six bucks for the creamy honey peanut butter, and five for the thick, soft commercial brand bread.
My mouth watered, and my stomach growled.
Fuck self-control.
But I did make a mental note to replace the five on payday as I got out of the car and stretched. Then I walked to the ATM and withdrew a twenty.
A few minutes later, I was back in morning rush hour traffic as I headed to the laundromat.