Blood Trial Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #1) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,36
really fast. That was creepy on an exorcist level.
“Pay?”
I glanced around. “For working this week? You know? My pay.”
“Oh.” She laughed lightly.
I laughed with her. This conversation was hilarious.
Not.
“We pay fortnightly, Basi. It was on one of the forms you signed. We’re on the alternating week right now, so you’ll be paid next Wednesday.”
All I heard was next Wednesday.
“Fortnightly,” I repeated, heartbeat thundering in my ears.
“That’s common practice for most businesses. The payroll is a big job.”
Her words faded to white noise as my stupidity slammed home. This wasn’t happening.
I’d assumed people got paid weekly. Yet thinking back, I had nothing to support that assumption. Nothing.
My breath always came fast in Angelica’s presence, but hysteria now worked its way up my throat.
What was I going to do? I had fifty-five dollars to my name. Not enough for the rent I had to pay on Sunday.
“I—” Licking my lips, I said, “Could you make an exception? I didn’t realise pay came fortnightly. I need to pay rent this Sunday.”
Those words cost me everything to say.
That’s how I knew I was still a fucking rich brat.
Pity lighted her eyes. “I’m sorry, Basi. The company is strict on pay. We had problems a while back with double-paying due to advances such as this. Please understand, the payroll is a huge job. One person doing this kind of thing is easy to accommodate, but yours is the tenth request this week.”
“Just once, Angelica?” I pressed, leaving my dignity at the door. “I promise you’ll never hear me say these words again.”
I hoped to keep that promise. After three days in the real world, I’d learned there were any number of rules I had no idea about.
She stepped back, face firm. “I feel for you, but I can’t make any exceptions.”
My world imploded like a pyramid of cards.
Turning away, she paused by the desk. “I meant to say I have meetings until 4:00 p.m. on Monday. The others will be in after midday.” She slid something to me along the desk. “Here are the keys to the front door, and an electronic tab for the elevator, so you can get onto this level. The tab will disarm all the alarms too.”
On autopilot, I reached forward and took the keys.
Then Angelica was gone, and I was left—once more—in a trap of my own making.
I entered the air-conditioned Toggles and strode to an empty cashier, attempting to look confident. Clint expected rent at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, and I was seventeen dollars short. After a sleepless night, I had three plans to tie me over until Wednesday.
“Hi,” I said with a sheepish smile. “I need to return a few things.”
The cashier frowned. “Why? Are they damaged?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve changed my mind. They aren’t… right.”
Without a word, the teenage girl pointed at a sign overhead.
Toggles does not offer refunds if the customer changes their mind.
A store credit can be offered at cashier discretion.
A store credit? I considered it. Could I pay Clint in Toggles vouchers?
Doubt it.
“Thanks,” I said dully, grabbing my bags again that I’d lugged all the way from Orange instead of paying four dollars for the bus.
“Good luck,” the teen said with a sad smile.
Awesome. I looked pathetic too. I should have cited damage as the reason—though the cashier would have checked.
… Maybe I could ruin the stuff a bit and go back in when she went on lunch break.
Nearly at the exit, I turned to scan the shop floor. My gaze snagged on a group of staff. The young woman I’d spoken with was whispering to the others.
As one, they turned to me.
Dammit! Didn’t need to read minds to figure out the subject of their conversation. There went that plan. I hurried out of the store.
My stomach grumbled and gurgled.
Time for plan two.
Each day this week, I’d walked by a blood donation centre that passed out a thirty-dollar grocery voucher to donors. I had to eat. I’d skipped dinner last night and couldn’t go another day. I had a healthy appetite, but I’d exercised unusual restraint since leaving the estate, and didn’t have any energy stores at this point. A thirty-dollar voucher would cover food until Wednesday—I’d make it work. Even if I had to eat those noodles that took two minutes to cook in boiling water.
The attendant at the blood donor centre ushered me to the only free seat, where I filled out a form. I had to show my ID, so I used my real name.