Page 3 of The Obvious Check
Never in my life have I felt more like an inconvenience than right now, and I went through the foster system as a teenager.
I want to wilt into myself because yet again, I don’t feel worthy. No one wants to help the kid who is so close to adulthood she can do it herself. What do these people think I’m made of? Do they think I can’t wilt or break like other things? If I survived my parents dying and living in a group home, I should be able to accomplish anything, right?
Wrong.
I suck in a harsh breath, knowing my chances of securing this place have slipped out of my hands. When Daniel turns to me, I quickly blink away my tears and jut my chin forward. He can’t know I’m upset. This isn’t a big deal. It’s not going to break me. Nothing ever has before, and nothing will now.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Barnett. Give me a call if you manage to figure out your predicament.”
I nod, numb and detached, then motion to the envelope. “I’ll just take that back.”
As I reach for it, he places his hand on top of it, shifting it away. I follow one of the thin white lines on his sharp, navy suit until I reach his face. “Can I take that?” I ask, pointing down.
“How about I keep it?”
“Keep it? W-why would you do that?”
He leans in enough that I know the couple across the room can’t hear. “You don’t want to miss out on another place, do you? This money secures your spot and means you’re first in line.”
“Um, it’s okay. I think I’d rather just have the money.”
“Sorry. No can do.” He snatches the envelope off the table and stuffs it into the internal jacket pocket of his suit. “You’ve made the deposit. It’ll sit with me until we find you the perfect place. One you can afford.”
“Uh, I would really prefer to have it back, please.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? If I give it back, I’ll have to take you off my client list for nonpayment. That goes on your credit record, and good luck finding a place to live with that hanging over you.”
My stomach drops as the reality sinks in. Just like that, any hope of getting it back disappears. There’s no way I’m getting that money. I’m five-foot-three and haven’t had more than one meal a day in years. This guy would be able to snap me in half the minute his hands wrap around my neck.
I’m trapped.
No money. No apartment. Nothing. Daniel is the only realtor who returned my calls in the first place. Without his help and with that kind of strike on my record, I’ve got nothing.
“Of course, if you want to get all of this over with, you could always speak to Luke. I’m sure he’d be willing to help you out.”
“Luke?”
He tips his chin to the card in my hand. “Yup. I give him more favorable rates too. Make sure you tell him I recommended you.”
Is he blackmailing me, or am I reading too much into this?
“Okay,” I whisper, lowering my head as tears well in my eyes. I don’t want Daniel to see the defeat written all over my face. “It was nice meeting you.”
I slip out of the apartment quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I can already feel their judgment. As if I need the reminder that I’m poor.
Once I’m outside, standing next to my beat-up car, I stare at the rusty hunk of metal and let out a bitter laugh. This is all I have to show for nineteen years on this planet. A car that barely made it past its last inspection with a gas tank I can’t afford to fill and a scholarship I’m about to lose because I can’t keep up with work and assignments.
Nothing. I have nothing to show.
So much for believing I could claw my way out of the hole life shoved me into and I could beat the system after that truck T-boned my parents’ car.
Naivety at its finest.
Slipping into the car, I rest my hands on the steering wheel, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.
Life would be so much easier if my parents were still alive.
My mind drags me backward. To Halloween nights when Adley and I would run between houses, holding bags heavy with candy. To movie marathons while the living room was covered in pillows and blankets, and we argued over which cartoon princess was the best. To Thanksgiving with our hands clasped around the table as we rattled off what we were thankful for.
