“Anything else?” she asked, unable to mask the sarcasm.
“Nope, that’s it,” he said, far too cheerful for Rach’s taste.
“Welcome to Buster Burger, may I take your order?” the intercom asked her. Rach didn’t need to consult the menu, she knew what she needed.
“Hold on a sec,” she told the man, then told the intercom, “I need a Bacon Explosion Burger, please
.
”
“Would you like a meal?” the intercom asked.
“Large meal, large soda, large everything, please.” She rolled forward in the drive-thru and asked the man who had further ruined her day, “How much will this cost me?”
“Oh, it won’t cost you anything,” he assured in a cheerful lilt. “I talked to your insurance company already and you got full coverage.”
Rach took a deep breath and gripped the 70’s pimp steering wheel cover, her knuckles turning white against the blue fuzz. “So how much is this going to cost my insurance company?”
Corrupt bastards
, she seethed. Of course they’d found a million things wrong with her vehicle after
calling her insurance company to verify coverage.
“The damages add up to about four thousand bucks—and that’s if we don’t find anything else wrong with it.”
Rach cringed. Was her car even worth that much? “Are you serious? That can’t be possible, my car’s a relic! They want to fix it?”
If she sounded panicked, it was because she was. Why couldn’t they just total it? She’d been dreaming of a new car. Something that wouldn’t be on its last leg as hers had been right before the fender bender.
Rach handed a ten dollar bill to the woman on the other side of the window who didn’t look up as she punched in another order on her touch screen and couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the woman in the Buster’s visor. She had a job and she was smiling. It was a safe bet the woman wasn’t driving her dad’s car or contemplating moving in with her parents. Rach wondered if Buster Burger had insurance benefits.
She moved on to the second window of the drive-thru.
“Oh yes, they agreed to have us fix the car,” he said, using a greasy tone he probably used with all the women customers he probably pushed around.
The next woman in a Buster Burger visor looked surprised and offended when Rach unintentionally snatched the paper bag out of her hand. Rach gushed, “I’m sorry.” But the woman shut the window in her face. To the man on the phone, Rach said, “I’ll be calling my insurance company. Don’t touch my car.”
She hung up on him before he could argue and dialed her dad. He would know what to do.
****
Glen Bennett’s idea of taking the situation into his own capable hands was to expose Dick’s Repair for the scum they were via letter to the editor of the newspaper or by personal confrontation. Rach listened to his thirty minute tirade on the corruption of the body shops in America and the insurance scandals. Though she wasn’t sure she’d heard of any such scandal, she did understand what he meant when he said, “Those low-down, no good thieves at Dick’s Repair aren’t going to screw with my daughter. You need to get your car and take it somewhere else.”
She was in wholehearted agreement that something needed to be done.
After promising to call her insurance company ASAP she hung up and called Leah who didn’t care to hear about her insurance woes. She wanted to talk about Rick. Again.
She considered putting out an ad titled
Best Friend Needed
and declined an invitation to dinner, dreading the idea of listening to their cuddly-wuddly, lovey-dovey talk throughout an hour-long meal. There was also the possibility Craig would “coincidentally” show up. After the shitty day she’d had—which she considered his fault by association—she was in no mood to face him. Today he was probably cruising around town in another hot car handpicked from the dealership he worked for, while she was driving a boat with dual exhaust to announce her arrival from blocks away.
Chapter Thirteen
Craig sat at his desk reviewing a new advertising campaign when Maggie strutted inside, a wide smile on her lips and a small brown paper bag in hand. He gave her a short nod and bit back a frown.
“Hello again,” she purred. He turned away as she bent over his desk to put down the bag. “I brought you a sandwich and some soup. Kathy mentioned you haven’t gone out yet today.”
His stomach rumbled in response. “Thanks Maggie. You didn’t have to do that.”
She smiled and perched on the edge of his desk and leaned in, giving him a view of cleavage under the plunging neckline of her blouse. Her hair was swept up into a twist on the top of her head and the light reflected off the flaxen locks. There was no stir of sexual interest, no excitement at the smell of her perfume—nothing. The fragrance was too bold, not like the soft floral scent of Rach’s perfume. He blinked, wondering why his thoughts had gone to her.
“Of course I did,” she said with a perfect pout. He pictured her practicing the expression in the mirror. “I couldn’t let you starve.”
This needs to end.
He rolled his ballpoint pen between his fingers, contemplating the best way to address the issue. Sitting up straight, he motioned for her to sit in a chair in front of his desk.
“Why don’t you sit down, Maggie. I’d like to speak to you about something.”
She lifted her brows in question, but sat down in the chair. Craig moved the sandwich aside with the end of the pen cap. God, he was starving. Would it be heartless to stuff his face with the sandwich she’d delivered after he told her to take a hike?
“Oh? Is it about this media mess? Craig, you know I’m here for you…any time, day or night. I knew you’d need a sympathetic ear, and you know how I love listening to you, whatever you have to say.”
He ran his hand through his hair and tried again. “No, no, that’s not it. I thought I’d let you know…”
Fuck,
he should have rehearsed.
“Yes?” she asked and trailed a finger across the back of his hand. He moved it out of her reach to run it through his hair.
Had she no idea she was coming on too strong? So different than Rach who would rather throw herself in front of a bus than at him. Except for last night when he’d kissed her. The memory of the feel of her hair between his fingers and her soft, supple mouth against his caused him to suck in a breath. She’d melted with ease into his arms and settled snug against his body…
“I really think you need to get this off your chest, talk with someone who understands. Let’s have dinner tonight. My place. I’ll cook you that pasta in the mushroom cream sauce you like. We’ll come up with a solution to this lawsuit together,” she suggested.
He straightened in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, suspicion seeping in. Every time she came to his office, she insisted on bringing him news about the lawsuit. It was almost as if she enjoyed the mess the dealership was in.
“I have dinner plans already,” he lied and her eyes narrowed. “I’m meeting a friend.”
Craig didn’t plan on making the dinner he’d been invited to, but Maggie didn’t need to know that. Being the third wheel on Rick and Leah’s date wasn’t his idea of a fun night. He wondered what Rach was doing since she’d declined the dinner invitation as well. Reaching down to rub his bruised shin, he chuckled. If he hadn’t been so quick to back up she might have laid him out in the middle of the street.
“What in God’s name is so funny?” Maggie asked with narrowed eyes.
Craig blinked her back into focus and said, offhanded, “I was thinking about a woman.”
Maggie’s pretty face screwed up and demanded, “What woman?”
He lost the smile. “The woman who hit my car. It’s nothing you need to worry about, it’s a personal matter. Remember, Maggie, we’re no longer dating so it’s not your business.”
Angry, she stood and stalked to the door. She snapped over her shoulder, “When you’re ready to discuss the important stuff, come find me. And I’ll remind you, you broke up with me for no damn reason. I still love you. Apparently my feelings were real and yours were not.”
He sighed at the door she’d slammed behind her and a second later his intercom buzzed. Kathy chirped, “I’m telling you, that woman is
trouble
.”
“You’re right.” He sighed and snagged the paper bag Maggie had left on his desk. “Hey Kathy, the other day Maggie mentioned that Phil left a note on your desk about another media leak, something about a settlement amount. I never got that message.”
“Phil wouldn’t leave a message on my desk for everyone to see. I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Me either,” Craig muttered, his suspicions deepening. Maggie wasn’t privy to any of the lawsuit information, there was no way for her to have seen the settlement demand letter or any other part of the lawsuit file, and yet Craig couldn’t shake the feeling Maggie was up to something.
“She’s a nuisance. You need to get rid of her.” Kathy huffed. If she were on the phone, she would have hung up on him. Instead, she settled for releasing the intercom button and making a loud “
harrumph
” from the other side of the door.
Chapter Fourteen
It was time for a new insurance company. Because the cost of fixing the car was a few hundred less than totaling it, they were going to fix it. Rach was assured it was in her best interest. She told the nasally jerk at Casualty Insurance “We Guarantee You’ll Be Pleased” that she knew what her best interests were and this did not count as one of them. She hung up, dejected.
Her life was a mess. Barely making ends meet wasn’t how she’d pictured her life after her college graduation. People had always commented on her drive, her certainty, and because she’d been passionate about her career choice she’d never assumed failure a possibility.
Rach sat down at her kitchen table with a notebook and opened it to a clean page. She needed a game plan, and lists had never failed her before. The newly sharpened pencil hovered above the first line for a few moments and then she wrote
How to Get My Life in Order.
Drawing a number “1” came easy, but she drew a blank afterward. Not a single word. After tracing the number several times there was now a hole in the paper.
Frustrated, she threw the pencil and it hit the patio door, startling Tally who woofed in response and cowered beneath her legs under the table. She sighed and bent to scratch behind Tally’s ears.
“Sorry. I’m just bummed. Do you realize I’ve pretty much been in every line of work in town? Maybe that’s a list I can start.” She got up to retrieve the pencil from the floor. The tip was broken so she sat down and sharpened it to a fine point.
“I can now add copier services to the
List of Occupations I’m Not Cut Out For
. Before that I was a filing clerk. Oh, can’t forget the stint as a receptionist for that nose-picking CPA creep. Remember him?” she asked Tally who had come out from hiding and sat beside the chair, her face tilted. Her eyes were curious, as if she were considering Rach carefully. “You have to remember him. He was the one who found ridiculous reasons to touch me.”
Rach liked to think Tally was giving her a soulful “I feel very sorry for you” look, but it was hard to tell.
She went on listing, “Then there was the job as the photo shop assistant. Then a museum guide. Turns out in order to give tours on prairie life in late 1800s you actually have to know the history. Then I did all those temp jobs for that placement firm, they all sucked. And last—social worker.”
Tally was nibbling on her tail, uninterested.
“So what have we learned from all this?” she asked, tapping her pencil eraser on the table to keep the puppy’s attention. Tally gave her a quizzical look. “It means I have no idea what the hell to do with the rest of my life, that’s what. And it also means, my dear Tally, you should be awfully concerned because…” she did a quick estimate of her checking account, including the funds in her emergency savings, “…within a month we might be feeding you the cheapest dog food available from the bargain aisle of the grocery store.”
Tally whined, whether from understanding or the ominous tone to Rach’s voice, it didn’t matter. She stood up from the table and went out to the living room, plopping down on the couch. Tally curled up beside her. Rach settled one hand on Tally’s back and picked up the TV remote with the other. “We’ll figure it out, don’t worry, girl.” Rach flipped on the TV and
Diners, Drive-ins and Dives
came on, making her stomach instantly rumble.
Guy Fieri took a bite out of a sloppy BBQ sandwich stuffed with some kind of coleslaw topping, and Rach’s mouth salivated. Just when she didn’t think she could take it anymore, the doorbell rang. She jerked in surprise, dropping the remote to the floor. She caught a glimpse of Tally’s tail just before it disappeared around the kitchen corner, followed by a whimper.
“Coward,” Rach muttered after her. All she could see through the peephole was a pizza box. Her mind told her to be wary of those bearing gifts, but her stomach told her to open the door and investigate. She pondered what to do, but under current circumstances—she was starving—she opened the door to accept someone else’s pizza order.
Rach crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at Craig who gripped the pizza box in one hand and a two liter of soda in the other. His expression was unreadable, but he looked a little sheepish. The memory of him kissing her then running for the door hovered at the forefront of her mind. In a clipped tone she asked, “Yes?”