Chapter 29
LOREN
Mom
What do you want for your birthday?
My stomach is growling like a hungry lion but there’s no way I’m going to step out of line for my rental car to grab a burrito from the food truck outside. Whoever chose this lot to park that thing in is either a genius or a super villain.
After I dropped off Elliott’s truck, Meg ferried me to the rental car place. Turns out everyone and their freaking mother is trying to snag a car for the weekend.
If I don’t eat something soon, I might die.
The moment I get home, I’m going to throw on my comfiest sweats and order Chinese takeout from the good place, not the dirt cheap one like I usually do. But before all that, I need to swing by the grocery store and buy myself a whole dang cake.
Might even splurge on the cookies ’n cream kind instead of boring old vanilla.
What reason do I, a car-less Loren Piper, have to be celebrating?
Fergal spoke to Newman Systems and, after a great deal of sweet-talking, they agreed not to cancel their contract.
Fate must’ve taken pity on me for the whole car incident.
Either way, today is infinitely better than the last few days combined.
With this job and the subsequent pay raise, my time in Nashville is about to get a whole lot more bougie. Even the fact that I’ve spent the last hour standing in line waiting to get the car the guy’s insurance company is giving me can’t get me down.
When the elderly couple dragging suitcases finally get their keys, it’s my turn.
This must be the guy’s first day. It takes him forever to key in my responses and photocopy my ID, which baffles me because I already filled out all my details online.
We’re talking DMV slow, folks. Then the tablet I’m supposed to sign goes dead and they have to go old school and print out the rental agreement.
But of course, no one can find the paper and when they do find it in some back-office cupboard, the printer gets jammed.
By the time they sort it out, I’m ready to chow down on the contract he clips to the board and hands across the counter.
“Sign here, here, and here. And initial here.” He indicates each spot with the tip of a pen.
I pray the sound of ink meeting paper masks my howling stomach.
Maybe I’ll forego the cake and head straight for takeout.
I’m about to hand back the clipboard when I notice one teeny-tiny detail that has completely slipped my mind.
Today is the first of February and—holy shit.
I check my watch.
No. No. No. It’s almost seven o’clock, which means the office at the apartment will be closed and my rent check will be late.
Again.
I’ve been meaning to go direct debit but between the trouble at work and the whole car fiasco, that plan went right out the window.
Tightness grips my chest, and I have to smile through blinding panic as the guy leads me around a cute little sedan so I can check for dents and scratches. A couple more signatures and the keys are in my hand. I jump inside and sweat immediately collects on my forehead.
With the press of a button, the car rumbles to life. Hot air blasts my face as I fiddle with the dials to make it cold. Only then do I grab my phone to call my landlords, praying something kept them in the office past closing even as the call rings out.
The worst part is, for the first time since I moved in, I have more than enough money to cover rent.
If I leave a check in the mailbox, it’s technically still paid on the first, right?
My head feels like it’s being pounded by a gavel. It’ll be fine.
It’ll be fine.
The lies we tell ourselves.
After the week I’ve had, I know it won’t be.
My worst fears are confirmed when I trudge up the stairs to my apartment and find a pink eviction notice taped to my door.