Elegant Sins - Stasia Black Page 0,6

ago. Had she been a young woman once just as full of hopes and dreams? Just as hungry for love as Delilah?

Then again, however Mom had started out, the result had been a total shitshow of a childhood for me.

A buzzing notification from my phone had me pausing before responding to Delilah. Which was probably good because if I opened my mouth now, whatever I tried to say would come out wrong.

Sometimes I had a hard time keeping my mouth shut. And shouting at her for being stupid and immature and inconsiderate of the life she was so casually talking about bringing into the world rarely won arguments and was why I had so few friends.

I pulled out my phone and glanced down at it.

Then I frowned.

It was a notification from an app I’d installed to monitor my credit score. I’d been meticulous about building up my credit ever since I turned eighteen.

Every business book ever talked about the importance of good credit. No one would give me a loan to open a business down the line if I didn’t have good credit. I was poor as fuck so I couldn’t ever get very high credit lines, but I made sure to open up several credit cards, use them to buy groceries, and pay down the full amount to zero every single month.

So why the hell had my credit score dropped hundreds of points and was suddenly flashing red?

I felt like I’d hit a Slip ‘n Slide without the water on. All the air was knocked out of my chest.

I stumbled backwards into the counter and gasped for breath.

“Mistake,” I mouthed, still gasping. “It has to be a mistake.”

I unlocked my phone and scrambled with trembling fingers to get more details.

Ten minutes later, I was outside on the sidewalk, trying my best not to scream at the bank representative on the other end of the phone.

“No, I told you, I didn’t make those charges. What the hell would I do with a speedboat? I live in Barnwell. It’s hours away from the coast. These are fraudulent charges. And I didn’t open those five other credit cards you have on file.”

I paced up and down the sidewalk. “How many times do I have to tell you? My identity’s been stolen. No, I don’t know how or who stole it! If I did, would I be on the phone with you? I tried calling the cops and they said it’s outside their jurisdiction! You watch your tone of voice! Don’t you dare, don’t you dare—”

The line went dead and I yanked the phone away from my ear, staring at it in disbelief. The bitch had hung up on me. My life was falling apart, and she’d hung up on me!

I let out a scream of fury, ignoring stares from people in the parking lot and on the street. I’d read about identity theft as part of my courses. It wasn’t something you could just bounce back from. Once your credit score was fucked, even if it wasn’t your fault, it was almost impossible to fix it, and sometimes it took years…

“Shit, shit, shit!”

I kicked a rock as hard as I could, mostly managing only to stub my toe, before opening my phone back up and going online to look at my bank statement. Whoever had stolen my identity had used my credit card to buy the most ridiculous things.

Other than the boat, they’d basically gone on a shopping spree at a mall outside of Atlanta last weekend, three days ago. $552.98 at Ulta. $3809.52 at Dick’s Sporting Goods. $2300.36 at Guitar World. $274.94 at P.F. Chang’s.

Huh. That was funny. I’d taken Kyle to P.F. Chang’s once when I saved up and we took a vacation to Atlanta. He freaked out, he loved it so much. He swore if he ever got rich, he’d eat at that place every night. It was one of the reasons I wanted to have a more diverse menu in my restaurant.

My head jerked back down, and I looked at the rest of the purchase history in more detail as an idea popped into my head.

No way. It was ridiculous.

I mean, sure, Kyle did care a lot about his skin care regimen. More than I thought guys ever did. He was always trying to sneak really expensive skincare shit into our grocery cart before I put it back on the shelf. The only way we could afford the rent was if we stuck to a strict budget. Kyle