by C. Penticoff
She was also smart, but her kindness was what I loved the most about her. When she wasn't anxious, she had the heart and soul of a saint.
She loved taking care of Coyote and was very good at it. In fact, taking care of Coyote was like therapy for her. Prissy never once had become anxious while caring for her. In fact, there were times when I was the one who became overwhelmed and anxious by caring for Coyote and Prissy would come to my rescue. The fact she could remain calm in those times showed me that Pris had some control of her anxiety to an extent. She probably needed to see a doctor and a therapist for some tools to deal with life. I wished I could do more to help with that, but I could only do so much.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I pulled it out to see a text front Kent.
Kent: How are you?
Me: Good. You?
Kent: Doing well! Are we gonna make concrete plans or are you gonna make a guy wait?
This guy seemed like he was super into me. But why? He was some fancy, rich dude with a fighting ring in his backyard and I was just white trash--at least the people who he rolls with would see me that way. What would he want with me? It's because I'm acting like I'm not into him, I reminded myself. Honestly, even though I totally wanted to fuck the guy because he was so hot, I didn't think for a single second that he'd ever really be into me, so I hadn't really thought to try with him, or to look further into it. Maybe there was more to explore. I was totally still going to have my guard up with this one though.
I texted back, I'll be looking for a job most of the week. I'll get back to you.
I put my phone back into my pocket since I was getting closer to the jail.
Finally, I saw Bailey turning the corner a few blocks ahead and she waved at me before tilting her head. She was clearly confused as to why I wasn't driving her van to come get her. Suddenly, my stomach turned a little realizing I had to tell her about what happened with her car. I'd been so distracted by rushing to get to her that I hadn't thought about how I'd break it to her.
"Hey, Iz," she said with a sideways look. "Where's the van?"
"You're gonna kill me."
"Oh my God." She stopped dead in her tracks. "What the fuck happened, Iz?"
"It's okay, your car's okay."
I gave her the low down on what happened and we decided we'd take her shitty Ford coupe to get the van. The Ford wasn't too reliable, but she thought it would do fine going to Portland and back.
She called her sister from my phone and asked her to drive her car to come get us. It only took a few minutes for her sister to arrive.
We dropped her sis back off at her house and began the journey to Portland. In the car, we lit up a cigarette and I had to get the low down on why the hell she was in jail.
"So what the hell happened?" I asked her.
"Ugh." She took a deep drag of her cigarette like she hadn't had one in a decade. She leaned back into her seat while she exhaled. You could tell it was the first moment of relief she'd had. "So, basically there was some chick out in Walla Walla with my same name and birthday who got into a wreck. She didn't have her driver's license when she wrecked her car, so just gave the cops her name and birthday which happens to be the same as mine."
"She has the same exact name and birthday as you?"
"Same first, middle, last, and same birthday--even down to the year." She took another drag of her cigarette. "The cop apparently pulled up my record and just assumed it was her. She got charged with something and had a court date for it. Except it wasn't her who had the court date and charge because the stupid ass cop put me down as her. So when her flaky ass didn't show up for court, they put a warrant out for me."
"You're shitting me. That seems like negligence on law enforcement's end." I flicked my ashes out the window.
"I wish I was joking. Worst weekend of my life. I thought I'd never have to go back to jail." She'd spent some time a couple years prior for possession of meth. My idiot brother got her into it. We were all best friends since we were ten years old and I was the lucky one who never became addicted to meth. I tried it once with them...unfortunately, I had loved it.
It pumped me up. It gave me crazy mental focus and bottomless energy. I mean, I felt like I could do anything because my Lazer focus was out of this world. I think I even started writing a book that day. I loved it, and that's why I never did it again. That's the difference between them and me. I was terrified of becoming addicted and they weren't. They're the people who tell themselves it's okay to have one because I'll never get addicted. I knew I wasn't special. I can get addicted just like the rest of the world, so you just cut yourself off before it comes a problem. Too bad I couldn't apply that logic to the nasty cigarette habit.
"So, enough about my weekend of hell. How was your weekend? Besides the whole strip joint on fire part."
"Oh, it was okay. I think I may have met someone."
"Tell me more, bitch," she playfully punched my shoulder.
"Well, he's darker--maybe Persian or Egyptian or something. He's hot as fucking hell. Really nice and total gentlemanny vibes."
"Nice!"
"He's also rich."
Her eyebrows practically touched the ceiling. "Oh, now I'm extremely interested. What does he do?" She kept flicking her eyes back and forth from the road to my direction for long enough periods of time to make me tense up.
"Just watch the road and I'll tell you all about him." She went back to watching the road and my ass relaxed. "So, his dad owned a bunch of car lots and left the business to him. He happened to die when Kent was twenty, so he was handed this big responsibility at a young age."
"Kent, huh? Sounds like a dickhead name."
I laughed. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know. Just sounds like a rich boy asshole name. Know what I mean?"
I laughed because I did not know exactly what she meant. "He didn't give me asshole vibes at all, but I still hardly know him."
"And he's into you?"
"It seems like it. He keeps texting me to make plans.Weird, huh? But we'll see."
"Well, milk it for all it's worth, girl."
I turned the music dial down a little. "Guess who I saw Saturday night?"
"Who?"
"Grayson."
She gasped. "What!"
"Can you believe it?"
"How? Why? Oh my god, I have so many questions. Where?"
"He picked me up to come get me when I had to leave your van."
"Oh shit, you're not serious."
"No, it was awkward as fuck at first."
"But then it was okay?"
"Yeah, it was like we'd just seen each other the day before."
"Is he all fucked up?"
"He looked like dog shit piled on more dog shit. He's actually in detox right now."
"Really?" She said this with exaggeration. "Do you think this is the real deal?"
"It sounded like it, but you know him. It always sounds serious. We'll see what happens." I turned the music dial back up and we jammed.
We spent the better part of the rest of the car ride singing stupid pop songs that beat in your brain for two days after you hear them.
When we pulled around the corner to the parking spot the van was in, I felt like I swallowed a rock.
Where the hell is the van?
Chapter Seven
I looked around the surrounding area to be sure I was in the right spot. There's the half-baked strip club. And there's the coffee shop. That was it. We were in the right place.
But, the van was not there.
Bailey pulled over and parked the car. "Where is it, Iz?"
I sighed and dropped my head. "Oh my God," was all I could say.
"Are you fucking kidding?" Bailey pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and moaned. "Fuuuuck. What are we gonna’ do, Isabelle?"
Damn, she's using my real name. I knew she had to be mad. I couldn't remember the last time she called me Isabelle. "I don't get it, Bai. There isn't any sign."
"I guess we call around to different tow companies. I'm so sorry, Bailey."
We spent a minute calling around and the fourth place we called ended up being the ones who had her car. We headed there so we could figure out how much money they needed to get her car out.
Walking up to the front door of this tow yard brought on a bad feeling. My gut told me we weren't leaving with the van.
"How can I help you?" The receptionist asked. He had a very soft, feminine voice for a male.
"Our van was towed by you guys," I said.
"Make, model, and location it was towed from?"
Bailey gave him the necessary information.
"Okay, that will be three hundred dollars."
"Damnit," Bailey moaned under her breath.
"How long do we have to get it from you guys?"
"One month from the day of retrieval."
"I get paid Friday," she told me. Bailey turned her attention back to the receptionist. "We'll be back Friday to get the van.”
"Sounds great," the receptionist smiled.
We turned around l and right before we were about to walk out the door, the receptionist spoke. "It will be seven hundred by then."
"Excuse me?" I said.
"What do you mean?" Bailey snapped.
"There's an automatic two-hundred-dollar charge, then a one hundred dollar fee for every day the car isn't picked up--maxes out at eight hundred.
Bailey flipped the receptionist off and pulled me out the door. "This has been the worst fucking past few days." Bailey pulled out a smoke.
"I am so sorry, Bailey," I told her for the twenty second time.
"It's okay. You didn't mean for this to happen." Even though I knew she meant that, she still seemed internally pissed at me.
"What are we gonna do?"
"I don't know. I get paid Friday, but only five hundred. There's no way my parents will help me. They're doing nothing but bitching at me for having to help me out so much." I honestly didn't blame them, but I wasn't going to say that to her. She was pretty irresponsible and took advantage of staying at home without any bills. She could be going to school or working full time somewhere where she could move up. You know, making a life for herself. She didn't understand the position of privilege she was in. I mean, the van she had was given to her by her parents after she blew her engine in the car before because she didn't add oil to it for over a year. Mind you, the van wasn't being used by them and was kind of extra anyway, but still. They could have sold it and made a bit of money from it, but instead they gave it to her. She's their kid, it's not like they shouldn't, but I wished she appreciated it more. Her family wasn't rich by any means, but they weren't doing bad. Middle class folks. But the best thing about her life was that her parents were normal human beings, unlike my mom--another thing she didn't appreciate.
Bailey was right. This was the worst few days ever. I now had rent to pay, utilities, and this stupid tow fee. Sure, she didn't expect me to pay for it, but I couldn't let her do it all. I at least had to reimburse her for half.
Doing the math in my head for everything I owed was enough to make me pull my pack of smokes out. And what do ya know, it was my last one. Damnit.
***
"See ya later, Bai!" I waved to her as she drove off.
As I was walking up the stairs, I got a text from Kent telling me to come outside because he had something for me.
I turned around and he was waiting in his car in a visitor spot.
"Hey, beautiful," he said while holding an envelope out the window.
"What's that?"
"Open it," he told me.
I grabbed the envelope and opened it up to find a check written out for five hundred and seventy-two cents. "Kent, I can't accept this from you."
"It's not from me," he said.
I looked back down at the check and read the name on the check. "Martin Cox." I couldn't believe it. "That's my manager. Well, ex manager."
"Yep." He lifted the corner of his lips, revealing his dashing, seductive smile.
"How the hell did you get this, Kent?"
"I have my ways," he said.
"Seriously, how'd you get this?"
"I told you. I have my ways. I've gotta go, but hopefully that helps." He lowered his sunglasses, winked, and drove off."
I was so stunned I stood in the parking lot for a good ten seconds. Then I jumped up and down and screamed out, "Yes!" I didn't even care that the neighbor was staring at me.
I walked to Safeway, cashed the check, and bought a little bit of food and a carton of cigarettes. I felt a bit guilty for getting the cigarettes when we had rent to pay, but it's not like I had enough to fully cover rent anyway. Besides, the whole house did not want me withdrawing on top of the stress I was already dealing with.
I walked back to the apartment complex and knocked on my landlord's door. He answered the door with his usual scowl and dirty white shirt. "Rent?"
"Yes." I set my bag of groceries down to grab my envelope of rent money out of my pocket. "Well, half of it. I'll have the other half by the tenth." Rent was due on the first, but we technically had a ten day grace period. I just hated waiting until the tenth because then rent was just going to be due again a couple weeks later. Once you get behind, it's hard to catch up.
He spat a wad of tobacco right next to my foot and I immediately shuffled over. "The fifth. Not the tenth."
"What do you mean? It's always been the tenth."
"It changed a few months ago. Your mom signed the contract."
That fucking twat signed it and didn't even let me know.
He grabbed the envelope out of my hands and scribbled up a receipt for me. "So you've got until tomorrow to come up with the rest. If I don't have it by then, an eviction notice will be taped to your door." He slammed the door.
"Fuck." Fuck, fuck, fuck! Now what in the hell was I going to do? How would I come up with the rest of the money? The strip club was burned down, and even if I found a job that day I wouldn't get paid in time.
I grabbed my bag and drug myself up the stairs. When I walked into my house, I put the groceries away, then plopped on the couch. I sent my mom a text asking her if she had any money, but I knew she wouldn't. And even if she did, she probably wouldn't care. If it didn't directly affect her, she couldn't care less.
"What's the matter?" Tyson asked.
"Our grace period is the fifth now. If we don't have the other half of rent by tomorrow, we're out of here."
He stopped playing his game and turned to me. "You're saying we have until tomorrow to pay rent?"
"Yep." He pulled his phone out and began frantically tapping away at it. "What did your girlfriend say by the way?" I asked.
"She has a name. And she doesn't have any money to give."
Figures. "You know what, I'm putting my foot down. If she can't help us out when we need it, then her ass don't need to be spending so much time here."
"Okay," Tyson said, not fazed by what I said. His face was buried in his phone.
Why isn't he giving me attitude about this? "What are you doing?"
"Nothing." He grabbed his coat sitting by him and stood up. "Gotta go. I'll be back later. Coyote's in your room watching a movie with Prissy."
"Where are you going?"
He walked out the door without responding. "What the fuck?"
"Where's he going?" Prissy asked as she walked through the living room and into the kitchen.
"No clue."
"Have you found a job, sissy?"
"Not yet. But, I will," I said much more enthusiastically than how I really felt, but I needed her to stay calm. She especially couldn't know about this rent situation. I pulled out my computer to check for new job openings. "My goal is to get two interviews this week."
"Are we gonna lose this apartment?"
"No." I peeked my eyes away from my computer to see Prisci
lla staring at me with glistening eyes.
"I know rent is due tomorrow. I heard what you said to Tyson."
"Prissy, don't worry about it. You worry about kid stuff."
"Are we gonna get split up?" I saw the glisten turn into beads of tears that fell down her cheek.
Gut punch.
"Prissy, no. You don't worry about this. I've got this." I rose from the chair and met her in the kitchen to hug her. "You know I'm not gonna let that happen." I grabbed her chin and pulled her forehead to mine. "You stop worrying, okay." I said it in a playful voice to try and lighten her spirits.
She giggled. "Okay."
I bit my lip. I've got to figure something out.
Prissy pulled out the ingredients to make a sandwich.
"Whatcha’ making?" I knew full well what she was eating. I just wanted to hint at her to make one for me.
"A sandwich. Want one?"
"Don't gotta ask me twice, sister." Her sandwiches were delicious. She didn't just put lunch meat and cheese on bread and call it good. She put all kinds of veggies and sauces on it to make it taste good. Not that we had a lot of food to make anything fancy, but I was starving so I didn't really care.
She cut slices of tomato up and pushed them aside with her knife.
"Where'd you get tomatoes at?" I asked, realizing I didn't buy tomatoes.
"I borrowed some from Sherman yesterday." Sherman was the neighbor below us. A sweet old man who always walked his annoying little dog three times per day.
"Prissy, you can't just go borrowing food from people when we can’t return it."
"He asked for some milk last week, so I didn't think it mattered."
"I guess that's okay."
I sat back down to look for work again when Coyote came hopping on all fours and barking. "Woof! Woof!"
"What the heck are you doing, crazy girl? You really are a coyote." I tickled her side when she hopped by me and she giggled so hard she almost fell over.
"I'm a doggy. Woof, woof!"
"Weird kid!" Prissy joked.
"You know dogs don't hop, right?" I asked Coyote.
"They do in Coyote's world," Prissy chimed in.
Before settling back into job searching, I enjoyed a sandwich with Prissy and texted Bai.