Chapter 5
Laura
I wake up sore, but in a way that makes me feel oddly satisfied.
I know I’m making a mistake. The same mistake over and over.
He broke in the first night and I couldn’t help that, but I chose to go into the library bathroom, and I chose to stay at my apartment.
I didn’t call the police. I didn’t do anything to stop him coming in and doing what he did.
There’s got to be something wrong with me. Maybe I’ll find out in psych class one of these days. For the moment, I have no real insight into myself besides that I want a better life than the one I was born to have. And I want a better life for my brother and sisters too. And my mom.
One of these days, I’m going to buy a house. A big one.
I’m going to become a famous psychologist and get paid hundreds of dollars an hour. I’m going to have a podcast. And brand deals. I’m going to go on television. I’m going to write a book. Maybe three, actually. I’m going to do a cameo on a popular show. I’m going to…
There are car keys on my nightstand.
I stare at them for a very long time. I don’t own a car. They’re not my keys. They’re his.
He must have made a mistake and left them behind. Hah. I’ve got him now.
I get dressed quickly, grab the keys, go out into the street, and click the key fob. A car lights up a few spaces away. It’s beautiful. Red. Sleek. Leather seats.
I open the door, feeling a tremor of excitement and trepidation.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this. I should be calling the police and telling them what happened to me last night, and that I have the evidence of his identity.
The car would have to be registered to someone and the police would be able to find out who…
“Oh, my god,” I mutter to myself.
There’s a note propped over the steering wheel. My name is written in a flowing hand in golden ink.
“For you, princess,” it says.
He gave me a fucking car? No way.
I open the glove box. There are papers in there. I shuffle through them, finding ownership, insurance, and some stuff about servicing.
A chill runs down my spine as I realize that even if I did call the police and report all of this, there would be no evidence here, because this is a brand new car and I am the owner.
Oh. My. God.
***
A broad smile spreads across my face as I watch Laura realize that the car is hers. She can’t help but grin as she opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat.
She was a good girl for me last night. She took my cock so well. She submitted just like I wanted her to. And now she’s being rewarded. She looks good behind the wheel. Her blonde hair is down and slightly messy because she’s obviously just gotten up.
Her hands smooth over the steering wheel as she starts to understand that submitting to me comes with rewards. I watch as emotions chase over her face. She wishes she could contact me now, thank me for this generous gift. But she doesn’t even know who I am. Her curiosity is growing.
She will find out soon enough, but not yet.
I watch as she goes inside, then comes out again about fifteen minutes later. She’s dressed in sweatpants now, and a zip-up hoodie. She looks casual and relaxed. I wonder where she’s going to take her new car.
She starts the car and heads out. I tail her, staying a couple of cars back so she doesn’t notice. We head into a part of the city not known for a lot of recreational activities. A little strange, but I’m eager to learn what her plan is.
Laura drives that car right into a car yard.
“Oh, no,” I murmur to myself. “Tell me she is not going to…”
She gets out of the car with her papers in hand and walks into the dealership office.
Thirty minutes later…
She sold the car.
Naughty girl.
I can hardly believe it. I watched as she got in it, her hand covering her mouth as she realized that the car was really hers. I thought she’d be grateful, thrilled. And she was, for about five minutes. Then she sold the car.
I have a directional listening device that allows me to hear conversations taking place inside walls.
“As you understand, vehicles lose a great deal of their value the moment they are driven off the lot.”
“I know, but I really don’t like it,” Laura says. “It’s just the wrong color.”
The little brat. She’s sounding like a spoiled little girl whose daddy bought her the wrong color of car.
“You could have it wrapped…”
“I don’t like the vibe,” she says. “How much will you give me for it?”
There’s a pause. I don’t think she understands what she just did, entirely, but she’s making the guy give her a number first.
“What would you take for it?”
“What will you give me for it?”
Oh, smart girl. Not letting the salesman gain the upper hand.
“Twenty-five thousand,” he says, naming a value half that of the car.
I hear a jingling as she stands up. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you’d take me seriously.”
“Twenty-eight,” he says.
“Thirty,” she replies.
“Done,” he says.
She was doing well right up until that point. Thirty grand is a lot for Laura, but it’s not nearly as much as the car was actually worth. She just traded a fifty-thousand-dollar car for thirty thousand dollars.
“Cash,” she says.
“That can be arranged.”
I watch as she walks out of the dealership with a thick wad of cash tucked into her bag. Interesting that they had so much paper on hand. Interesting, and obviously shady. Whatever that place is a front for, they just laundered a whole lot of money through her.
I wondered what made her choose that car yard, given there’s so many in the city, but my question is answered less than sixty seconds later when she goes and stands at the bus stop. Of course. She chose one that was close to public transport.
I chuckle to myself at the audacity of this young woman, and at her inventiveness. I wonder what she’ll do with her haul. Take it to the bank and put it in her checking account? I doubt it somehow. Nobody wants to explain a thirty-grand windfall to the IRS.
Laura
I am so excited I can’t stop myself from shaking.
There’s more money than I’ve ever had in my life in my bag.
I can’t believe this. What am I going to do with it?
It’s not enough for a house, not in this market, but it’s more than enough to pay all my bills and my rent for ages, and…
oh, I can’t even think about that right now.
I suddenly feel like the eyes of the whole world are locked on me.
There’s another feeling too, a slow trickle of something like guilt. It feels like the car wasn’t really mine, though of course legally it was.
My phone is ringing. I feel a brief flash of heat, as if it might be him. The man who left me a car and probably… maybe… god, I don’t know if he knows if I sold it, but he might…
“Hello?”
“Hey, Laura.”
Dave. My ex. Usually I would hang up at this point, but I guess the distraction is distracting me, because I don’t.
“Hey,” I say.
“It’s been a while,” he says.
“Yeah. Because we broke up. What do you want?”
“I thought we could still be friends,” he says after a brief pause. “You’re, like, a really special girl. We had some good times together.”
We did not have good times together.
I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the thirty grand in my bag. Maybe it’s that I’m being stalked by a guy who fucks me and leaves me cars as payment. Maybe I’ve just crossed some invisible threshold that was always there.
“What good times were those, Dave? When I paid for everything and you sat around playing video games all day?”
“Hey, I helped!” He takes immediate offense, of course.
“Helped yourself to my apartment,” I say.
There’s a pause. Usually he hangs up around about now, at the point when I remind him how he used me for months before cheating on me and moving out.
Dave was never worth any of the tears I shed over him.
He definitely wasn’t worth trying to fix the whole time I knew him.
I’m half of the mind to tell him that I have a new boyfriend who just bought me a car, but that’s not entirely true, and I don’t think I can call a man who wakes me up to fuck me wearing a mask my boyfriend.
I have got to stop letting men do man things. The audacity.
“I was wondering if I could crash there,” Dave says, sheepish. “My lease ran out on my place, and I don’t have any money at the moment…”
“No, Dave,” I tell him. “You cannot stay at my place.”
I end the call.
He calls back.
I block him.
That feels satisfying as hell. It’s like everything is starting to align for me. I’ve told my ex to go to hell. I’ve got money. My shift starts in an hour…
Oh, fuck. My shift starts in an hour.
I am on entirely the wrong bus, though I think I can make it work. I just have to get off at the next stop and grab the 64, and then…
I make it to work just in time. I stuff my bag into my locker, pull my apron out, realize I’m wearing sweatpants and thank the absolute heavens I keep a spare blouse, skirt, and set of underwear in my locker for emergencies.
By the time my shift starts, I’ve put on some lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara, and my hair is tied up in a shiny ponytail that gets me a whole lot of tips.
The shift goes quick, and ends after the dinner rush, so I can get home a little earlier and stash the cash somewhere. I’m thinking about putting it in cereal boxes in the kitchen. I saw that on a TV show once. It looks like a decent idea.
My front door is open when I get home. Not just the door to the building, which is pretty much always ajar, but my actual apartment door. I walk in the front door already annoyed. This has Dave written all over it.
I told Dave no. Why doesn’t he ever listen? I know he’s going to act like I wasn’t clear when I told him.
To my surprise, Dave’s not on my couch, or scrounging in my cupboards for food. He’s not here at all. Which is strange, because I can feel Dave vibes.
“Hello?”