Page 72 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
After I clocked out around five, I sprinted to the soup kitchen, shoveled as much food into my mouth as I could while listening to two kids—Harlan and Stella—talk about their new friend at the soup kitchen, a volunteer who brought them presents every time he came.
Sounded nice. Wish I knew Santa, too.
I kissed them both on their cheeks, hugged their mom Maggie goodbye, and checked my email from the office of donations at Wilton University, an insanely expensive Ivy League university based in New York City.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Atgaila Scholarship Fund
Dear Ms. Winthrop,
We are emailing you in regards to your anonymous scholarship fund. With our recent tuition hike, the sole recipient, Demi Wilson, will need to pay the difference in a total of $500 per month for her enrolled semesters.
You may choose to continue to pay the $2000 per month scholarship or increase the scholarship coverage to $2,500.
As always, we appreciate your patronage and assure you our discretion.
Lexi Wheelander
Office of Donations
Five hundred extra a month. I could barely make the two grand a month work. Prescott Hotels paid well, but after taxes and the donation, I was left with too little to care for myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and muttered the prettiest words I knew.
When that didn’t work, I imagined baltering in the rain with a thousand happy puppies.
Breathe, Emery. It’ll be okay. You have no choice. It’s the right thing to do.
I shot an email agreeing to the extra five-hundred, then ran as fast as I could to the Mom-and-Pop gym near the hotel. My shower caddy and towel bumped around in a black knock-off Jan Sport backpack held together by duct tape and amateur stitches (I’d been a novice at the time. Bite me).
I paid twenty bucks a month for a gym pass. Instead of working out, I stopped by every morning for a shower. Ben had kept me up all night with dirty texts messages, which meant I’d overslept this morning and hadn’t been able to stop by for a shower.
Careening to a stop in front, I took in the sign on the door.
Dear Valued Customer,
There was a leak from the last storm. We are closing down for the next few days to repair it. The three days will be comped from your next billing cycle. We are so sorry for the inconvenience. Stay happy. Stay fit!
Haling Cove Fitness Staff
“Ugh.” I groaned out, kicking a rock on the sidewalk, which undid the quick patch job on my Converse.
Ripping the shoe off so it didn’t get worse as I walked, I made my way back to the hotel, ignoring the people who stared at my single bare foot with upturned noses. On the bright side, I must have looked like a mess because everyone I passed gifted me a wide berth.
Pulling out my phone, I shot a message to Ben.
Durga: I am having an awful day. Make it better.
Benkinersophobia: Roses are Red. Violets are Blue. You give good phone sex, and I guess you’re okay, too.
I snorted an obnoxious laugh, the shoe in my hand flinging at the movement. A toddler pointed at me before his mom hurried him away.
At least I was smiling.
Always smiling when it came to Ben.
Durga: You’re a poet. I’m filing that under the employment column. Mystery solved.
