to give me a ride home. I had to pay her for the gas, but it was worth it considering I’ve had to walk home a few times now and my tennis shoes aren’t holding up all that well.
“How’d you do today?” McKenna asks, dropping a small plate of spaghetti beside my pile of tips, and by tips, I mean garbage—literally. I think most people just reach into their pockets and leave behind anything they happen to grab. Surely the maid who’s had her face level with the shitter all week wants my lint-covered candy wrapper!
Other than that, there’s a few dollars, some change, and one very pleasant note scrawled on the back of a receipt:
Hey, saw you cleaning. Your hot. Call me if you want to grab a beer.
- Mike from #113
Mike from room 113 doesn’t know the proper usage of you’re, but I’d be okay with that if he hadn’t also left his room a complete wreck. Leftover pepperoni pizza under the pillows, Mike? Why? How?
“Do we have enough to get the car out of the shop now?” McKenna asks, sounding hopeful. I can’t bear to look up at her. She’s all the things I didn’t get the chance to be: innocent, doe-eyed, sweet. I want to hold her against my bosom and keep her there forever. I want to squeeze her soft cheeks and tell her the world is a beautiful and happy place. I do not want to tell her that with the $14.50 in tips I got today, we’re not even remotely close to getting our car back. In fact, this money won’t even be going into the car fund. We need it for groceries.
I force a smile and nod. “We’re getting there. Have you finished your homework?”
She rolls her eyes halfheartedly and sits back down at the table across from me. Her biology textbook is open and she continues her reading assignment while she eats her dinner. Seeing her there, looking so much like I did at her age, makes it hard to get a full breath. It’s like seeing what could have been in another life.
A pounding on the trailer’s door jolts me out of my thoughts and I turn, frowning, wondering who could be coming by here at this time of night. My mom’s still working her shift at the grocery store and not due back for another hour at least. My brain immediately thinks of Lonny, but then I quickly cast that thought aside. He’s moved on. He has no reason to come snooping around here.
Still, I tell McKenna to stay put and then I peer tentatively through the faded curtains over our couch. I heave a sigh of relief when I spot Jeremy’s truck parked in the grass beyond our front door.
“You could have called first,” I joke as I tug the door open.
He holds up his phone, an annoyed expression across his face. In his other hand, he holds a plastic grocery bag knotted at the top. “I have—three times.”
I blush. Cell reception isn’t the best out here. “Sorry. What’s up?”
His eyes immediately home in on my plate of spaghetti on the table as he pushes through the door, dropping his bag and kicking off his dirty work boots. “I’m starving. You have any more?”
McKenna holds up her bowl. “You can have mine.”
Jeremy and I both say “No” at the same time then I head over to our small kitchenette to grab a spare bowl so I can split my portion with him. This is unusual. He doesn’t show up at our trailer out of the blue much these days, especially now that he’s dating Khloe. If he’s not at work, he’s usually with her. A year into their relationship, they still have stars in their eyes. I’m happy for him, but I refuse to say so because then he’ll start rambling on about her for an hour and I’m tired and I need a shower and I don’t have all night to hear about how he’s saving up money to buy an engagement ring.
I let him eat a few bites of spaghetti before I question him again. “So…to what do we owe this pleasure?”
He finishes chewing, wipes his mouth, and then levels me with a toothy grin. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.
“I have a solution for our money problems, cuz.”
Uh huh. Not likely.
“Jeremy, please tell me Nick didn’t convince you to start dealing.” I immediately point a finger toward McKenna. “Pretend you didn’t