Chapter 16
MONTESERA’S REVENGE
Sera
Ican’t just sit and wait for Thane to finish.
So I make myself useful and pump gas, quietly doing Lamaze breathing because for some reason that is what I thought would help in the moment.
After the tank is full, there are still no signs of life from Thane.
I grab my purse from the passenger seat and lock the car.
The moment I start walking, everything settles in my gut with a low gurgle.
That’s when I know I’m in trouble. I scurry down the sidewalk to the convenience store and pull open the door.
A shady-looking guy behind the counter looks up from his phone but doesn’t say hello.
“Uh, hi,” I start in a nervous tone, shifting my weight back and forth. “My friend came in here and got the bathroom key a little while ago, and he hasn’t come back. Is he…”
“Prob’bly stuck. That knob is tricky.”
“Excuse me?”
“The. Knob. Gets. Stuuuuck,” the man says slowly in a thick southern accent, and shakes his head impatiently.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll just… go check on him, then,” I say before pivoting back toward the door.
I stride as nonchalantly as I can muster—when the lower half of my body is spasming—to the bathroom door and try the knob. Sure enough, it’s locked.
“Thane?” I say against the door. “Are you in there?”
“Oh, thank goodness!” he shouts from inside. “The knob is broken and won’t turn.”
“The attendant said that it gets stuck. Have you tried wiggling it?”
“It smells so bad in here that it’s fogging my critical thinking skills. But yes, I have tried wiggling it. I’ve also been slamming my body against the door for the past five minutes.”
I push past my own discomfort when my train of thought stops on its tracks and switches gears toward Paybackville.
“It smells bad in there?” I ask with a Cheshire Cat grin.
“SO bad! Like a carcass in the trunk of a junkyard car in the middle of summer.”
“Reeeeaaaally…?” I reply, failing to contain my laugh.
“Fina, I don’t like that tone. I can hear those wheels turning from in here, and I’m telling you right now—if you don’t want every secret you’ve ever told me exposed, you’ll let me out now!”
I lean my shoulder against the door. “I’m sorry, Thane, it’s hitting me hard too. I don’t have time to tinker with the doorknob.” I pause when I hear him dry heave.
“Fina! Now is not the time! This is the grossest bathroom I have ever seen, even counting the bucket in the rainforest I used in Costa Rica. If you don’t let me out, I’ll be forced to throw up in this toilet, and that will scar me for life!”
The desperation in his voice raises pitch with every word and is punctuated with gagging sounds.
“Listen. I see a coffee shop behind the gas station. I’m going to go there to find a bathroom. It won’t be pretty if I try to wrestle this door open now.”
“Don’t you dare leave me in here!” he shouts. “Fina!”
“I’ll be right back and ready to help in a few minutes, okay?” I say, then race across the parking lot as fast as my bowels will allow.
I can hear him banging on the door as I run away, and I laugh at the opportunity I seized to get revenge.
The aromatic smells of the coffee shop hit my senses the moment I walk in, which gives my guts that last little push to the finish line.
I weave my way through the tables and make it just in time to relieve myself in their very clean, very un-creepy bathroom.
Then, to show appreciation for the much more pleasant experience than what Thane is having right now, I buy a box of donuts on my way out and thank the barista.
When I get back to the gas station, the fire department is cutting the door open with a saw.
My heart drops when I see Thane’s laser-red eyes glaring at me through the human-sized hole they just finished.
He is covered in sweat, chest heaving, when he makes his way toward me.
I maintain eye contact as I dive into the driver’s seat and lock the doors, knowing that I’ve kicked a hornet’s nest. He stands next to my window and mouths at me to open it.
I shake my head and play dumb like I don’t understand.
I know I’m playing with fire at this point, because I definitely didn’t think this through.
But I’m up to my eyeballs in trouble now, and commitment to the prank is the only thing I have left to cling to.
One of the firefighters comes over, hands Thane his phone, and pats Thane on the back. He says something I can’t quite hear and laughs. Although Thane laughs along, I can see that it’s fake. He’s furious, and every ounce of that rage is about to be unleashed onto me.
Thane moves to the passenger side and points at the lock.
I know at some point I need to face the music of my mischief, so I sigh in surrender and hit the unlock button.
Nothing could have prepared me for the stench that follows Thane into that tiny car as he sits down.
I open my mouth to speak and he raises a hand to stop me.
“Not. One. Word.”
Then he buckles his seatbelt, and I roll down all four windows.
I put the car in drive and get a few miles down the road before I lose it.
My laughter booms throughout the car. Thane slowly turns toward me, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead where I sit.
The more I try to stop, the harder it becomes, and now I know why he insists on torturing me.
It’s pretty fun to be on the other end of it.
He stares at me, unamused, and I’m laughing so hard I have tears rolling down my cheeks. The wind whips through the windows and blows my hair into my face, so I have no choice but to roll them up.
“Did you know that the sewer in that bathroom is backed up? I didn’t until the firemen came.
And did you also know that there is no exhaust fan—or any circulating air in there, for that matter—in said bathroom?
It was over a hundred degrees in there. It was like swimming in a crockpot filled with poop soup. ”
The imagery throws me over the edge and I’m cackling.
“Not funny, Fina. That was so below the belt.”
“Did you at least wash your hands?”
“Really? That’s what you’re most concerned with right now? If my hands are clean?!”
I laugh harder. “Yes. I saw the inside of that bathroom. It was filthy!” I say between gasps.
“You think if they can’t even fix their sewer issues or their faulty doorknob that they’re going to have soap stocked in there?”
“I’ll take that as a no, then.” I immediately turn toward a Walmart. “Not only do you need to go in and wash your hands, but you need to change your clothes. You smell terrible.”
He shakes his head and stares out the window. I force away the urge to laugh all over again.
I park the car as close to the door as possible, and turn off the ignition.
He’s swearing under his breath as he moves to the trunk and digs through his bag for a change of clothes, then sulks ahead of me into the store.
I follow behind and go immediately to the aisle with garbage bags and buy a box of heavy-duty, lemon-scented ones.
I’m waiting by the car when he comes back out, and I hold open a garbage bag for his clothes.
He throws them in with a tight-lipped expression.
I have never pissed him off so much that he has no comeback, and I wonder if I took the joke too far. To try and smooth things over, I grab the donuts from the back seat.
“I bought donuts,” I say, offering him the open box.
He looks at the donuts and back at me. “I could not have any less of an appetite than I do right now, thanks to you.”
When I start laughing again, he points his finger in my face until my eyes cross, then he says low and menacing, “This means war, Spencer.”