Chapter Two

I worked the rest of my shift in a constant state of anxiety as I kept watching the door for ‘Linda’. 

When the afternoon rolled around and nothing came, I figured he was just messing with me and left for the day. 

I made my way through the streets, heading towards my bus stop, plopping down onto the bench. 

Jeremy handed me half of his sandwich. We always got off work at the same time and since we lived at the same apartment building, we usually brought each other meals at the end of our shifts, splitting them to save money. Today was a Tuesday which meant that Turkey was on sale. I savored my sandwich, knowing it would be probably be till tomorrow I would eat again. 

“I had a big tipper today, but Mrs.Reynolds took half of it before forcing me to payout” I said, kicking small rocks off the sidewalk, forcing them into the street. It wasn't a busy road and because of that the bus only stopped a few times a day. It would be awhile before it arrived. I was okay with that, waiting at the bus stop was usually my only sort of down time outside of sleeping.  

“What a bitch” Jeremy mumbled, shaking his saggy blonde hair over his eyes. Jeremy was semi-attractive man, even though he did not see it. We both too broken to ever work out, and a mutual understanding of it without having to discuss. I was thankful he had never tried to flirt or make any advances to me because the awkwardness would have been awful since I considered him my only friend, kind of. 

“Also had a total pompous ass.” I realized I never did get the name of the guy from the coffeehouse. I smirked at the thought that he was some big hotshot, but I did not have any idea who he was. 

Jeremy gave me a half laugh before returning to his sketchbook in silence. He never really talked much and it never bothered me. I hadn’t asked him why he was in the shitty apartment building; I figured he would tell me if he wanted. After a few weeks of realizing we work at the same time and took the same route, we started to get more comfortable with one another. 

I never really had friends growing up in foster care. The other kids in the house either hated you or were just as scared as you were. It was nice to have someone to talk to that didn’t expect anything in return. 

“And? Did you kick him out?” He asked. I smiled at the thought he probably forced himself to continue the conversation. 

“Duh.” I pushed Jeremy’s shoulders playfully. He pulled his sketchbook to himself, making sure to shield it from me. 

We went home in silence, parting ways on the 2nd floor of the small apartment building that was turned into government housing. 

I quickly took off my clothes and took a shower to wash away the sweat and smells from today. 

My apartment was a small studio size. The bathroom was the only part with privacy, otherwise everything else was in one giant room. My kitchen was merely a small counter with a microwave and one single electric burner plate. I haven’t had the money to purchase any cooking supplies. Nor have I had the money to purchase a small fridge to store any type of food I could make. 

I was phased out of foster care for almost a year and they were able to place me in this building. It was nothing great but at least it was something. The manager was fairly quiet and rent was acceptable. He didn’t care to spend any of it on repairs though. The hallways ran with dirty carpets and the walls had peeling paint. The elevator hasnt been working since I moved in, but I was fine with taking the stairs, but thankfully I lived on the 2nd story. 

Majority of my neighbors are in similar situations like mine, working multiple jobs, so the building usually has a quiet hum of people coming and going. 

Throwing my hair into a bun, I quickly got dressed and hurried off to the gas station on the corner for my night shift. 

Unlike the coffeehouse,the same boring constant lull of customers usually makes the night drag on. The upside is that this one offers health insurance and a set hourly rate. I also didn’t have tips to share with others. The worst part about the coffehouse was the unreliable income. Some days I made more than what I make the gas station, but other days I barely made enough to cover a meal, if I paid for any. 

The ding of the door being opened brought me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the clock, it was about 10 minutes before the end of my shift. I rarely had customers this late, if I did, they were headed straight to the restroom. 

I put down the mop and headed towards the cash register. 

A man in what looked like an expensive suit stood by the counter. I stopped dead in my tracks, having a slight panic attack that it was the man from this morning. He turned towards me as he had heard the loud squeak of my sneakers rubbing against the tile. My body practically collapsed from the tension when it was not the coffeehouse man.

“Hi, how can I help?” 

“You charged my card multiple times.” He said, throwing a black card onto the counter. The ping of the metal as it bounced was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Do you have your receipt?” I replied, leaving the card where it landed.

“No you didn’t give me one” He scoffed, barely looking up from his phone this entire time.

“Oookay. Well either way only the manager has access to the electronic transactions so you’ll have to come back in the morning.”

The man paused, narrowing his eyes at me. “I can’t do that. I need that reversed tonight, it was a company card.”

I felt my eyebrow raise. “Even if I could reverse transactions, which again I cant,  it usually takes a couple business days for it to return.”

He waved his hand at me dismissively, returning to his phone. He aggressively typed away. “No, you need to reverse it tonight.”

I slid the card across the counter. “Like I said, I’m not authorized to do that” 

He slapped his hand on the counter in frustration. “You weren’t authorized to charge it multiple times either but you did”

I inhaled deeply through my nose, pinching it. “You keep saying I did it when I have nothing to do with electronic transactions. You stick your card in the machine, it goes through, that’s the end. I don’t have any other way of charging your card. I’m sorry you don’t understand how it works but I can’t help you” 

He scoffed at me again. “I understand completely. You’re just refusing to help me. If you knew who I worked for, you wouldn’t be giving me a hard time.”

“I’m not giving you a hard time. I simply explained what I can and can not do. And it has nothing to do with whoever you may or may not work for. Because frankly I really dont give a shit who anyone works for” At this point, I started to raise my voice in irritation. “If you continue to harass me, I will call the police.”

The man grabbed his card off the counter, shoving it in his pocket. “I’m going to call the police for criminally charging my card. I’m also going to have my boss sue you guys for fraudulent charges.” 

Laughing, I picked up the landline phone we have on the counter and reached out to hand it to him. “Do it, buddy. Call the police. I would love to explain the situation” 

He tugged tightly on his suit jacket, leaving without another word but managing to flip me off before disappearing into what looked like a very expensive car. 

After a few minutes, my coworker came out asking if I was okay because he had heard the commotion. I refrained from rolling my eyes at the fact he wanted till the customer left to come out, but whatever. 

I told him I was fine and left for the night, desperately wanting to fall into my bed and sleep away the shitty customers I dealt with today.