Page 21 of Guilty Minds
She drops me off by the DMV. A sad building that only ever has one employee working. Today, that employee sits behind the counter readingFifty Shades of Grey. She doesn’t seemterribly thrilled to see me walk in. I guess I’m cockblocking Christian Grey.
“Hi, Doris!” I cheerfully greet the middle-aged lady with square black glasses matching the cover of the book she’s clenching in her hands. Her forehead is sweating. She must be at the good part.
“Hi, Kayla. What can I do for you?” She sets the book on the counter face-down, like she doesn’t want me to know she’s been reading smut. I’m with you there, lady—the more smut, the better, but that doesn’t mean I want everyone knowing what I’m into.
“My Jeep got towed yesterday,” I announce, trying to keep up the contented tone, despite how inaccurate it represents my state of mind.
She puckers her painted pink lips in disappointment. “Oh, they finally got it. Sorry, honey.”
“They did. Can you check how much I need to pay to get it back, please?” I force a friendly smile on my face. Even though Doris is very nice, my situation doesn’t help my mood to be less sour.
“Sure, gimme a minute.” She pulls on her collar, fanning herself.Oh yeah, Doris, you do need a minute.Mr. Grey got you there.
When she eventually gets her wits together, she takes my license and types it into the computer. I watch her face as she scans the information, trying to figure out how screwed I am. When her lips form an ‘O,’ I start to sweat, too. That can’t be good. “Oh, honey, you need to pay one-thousand, nine-hundred eighty-one dollars and twelve cents plus towing fees for Bobby when you take your car.” She bites her lip like it’s her fault the number is so high.
“What?” That can’t be right. Did she just say that I need to pay almost two thousand dollars? “W-why so much?”
“You haven’t paid quite… ahem… a few tickets in the last year and a half, honey. That comes with some hefty fees,” she explains apologetically, eyeing the screen.
I’m outraged. “I paid a ton of tickets!”
“You obviously had more.” She has the decency to look a little embarrassed at the system.
“Let me see!” I nearly yell.
She glances around nervously as if somebody will clock her for acting naughty—it's only myself and her, mind you, and I've already seen her fantasizing about Mr. Grey—and turns the screen toward me.Fuck!There are at least two dozen unpaid tickets, and I didn't even know about them. How? Some of them are for parking, while others are for weird violations that I didn't even know I made—if I even did, which I doubt, knowing Jake. Well, fuck that, and fuck Jake and his harassment. I’m so over this.
“Are you going to pay now, honey?” Doris asks quietly, already knowing the answer.
“No, I don’t have the money for that. Thanks, Doris.” My anger deflates—there’s nothing I can do, furious or not.
“Sure thing. I hope you get it sorted, Kayla.” Her smile is genuinely supportive.
“Thanks,” I mumble and walk outside. Yeah, not many options left for me here. It’s either take a loan from Freya or Marina (the latter has limited funds now, so she’s out of the question even though she’d be my first pick) or move my trailer to Marina’s property. I don’t know which one would be a less catastrophic hit to my pride.
Once outside, I pick up the phone and make the dreaded call.Shepicks up on the second ring, and I mumble before I lose my nerve, “Hey, Caroline. I’m afraid I have to skip this month’s payment.”
“Why?”she asks in her sour, cigarette-roughened voice.
“Car troubles—I need the money to pay it off.”
“Car, huh? What, not enough you can walk on two legs, now you need a car to drive you around, too?”
I clench my jaw, biting back a snarky answer. “Yes, I need the car. I can’t get around without it.”
"Not my problem. Some people don't have the luxury of walking around at all. We need the money, so make it happen.”Sudden silence tells me she hasn’t bothered to wait for a response before hanging up.
Oh hell. What fantasy world was I living in when I thought she’d be understanding? She’s used that line before when I’ve needed to skip the payment. Every single time—which isn’t often because I try my best to “make it happen,” as she put it. I long gave up on asking, but today’s situation called for trying one last time, hoping she’d grow a conscience. And it’s not like I can blame her, because I can’t. No matter how hard I try to hate her for draining my bank account every single month, for keeping my wings clipped, I can’t—because she’s drowning in the circumstances of the same evil actions that I am.
I’ll make it work. I always find a way to land on my feet, like a cat with nine lives… though I feel like I’m running low on those by now.
I’m slowly walking to the diner where Marina willhopefullymake me the fattiest breakfast in the history of breakfast so I can eat away my sorrows when a car slows down to roll along beside me. I hear the sound of the window lowering and tense all over.
“When are you taking your shit back?” an annoying voice jeers. I choose to ignore it and keep on walking. “Did you hear me?” he squawks. “When are you taking your car back?”
How dare he even speak to me? I whip around to look at the asshole who’s made my life miserable foryearsand snarl at him, “What the hell do you need,Jake?”
His megawatt smile dims a few notches. “I asked you when you plan to pick up your junker.”
