Page 5 of Chasing the Sun

“Great. Thank you. I swear there’s no reason it should be ...”

Declined.

I glanced over my shoulder as the line in the café grew impatient. The business card always worked. I was Elodie Darling, for fuck’s sake—top dog at one of the most exclusive PR firms in the city. My boss, Amy, had founded thecompany, but we were practically partners. She never made any decisions without my input.

I attended events with open bars and people whose teeth probably cost more than my rent.

And yet there I was. Broke. In line at a café and contemplating grand larceny over an overpriced chicken Caesar wrap. I swiped a palm down my thigh.

Oh, for the love of espresso shots and emotional stability, please don’t do this to me today.

The woman’s beautifully manicured eyebrow crept higher. “Maybe you have cash?” she said, slow and patronizing, like I was a toddler learning shapes.

My face twisted.Who in the world carries cash?

With a tight smile, I dug through my purse, hoping the incessant foot tapping to my right wasn’t meant for me. Before I left the office, I’d decided to surprise Mel, our firm’s eternally loyal receptionist, with lunch. She was an unsung hero at the office, and the thought of doing something nice for her made me feel lighter.

A tiny act of goodness in the world.

I pulled out my personal debit card. “Just use this one.”

I stared at the card as it moved in slow motion across the counter, praying it would go through.

Maybe the bank was randomly flagging the purchase? Maybe Amy forgot to move money around? Maybe my late-night “treat yourself” shopping spree for my corner office had finally caught up to me?

I mean, surely not that last one.

The cashier tapped my card against the screen and forced a smile. I brushed an unruly curl from my face, my mind already running through the possibilities.

There was no way I was actuallybrokebroke.

Sure, my personal checking account was usually onlyone bad decision away from overdraft, but I wasn’tthatirresponsible. Maybe I had hitadd to cartlike a feral little goblin a few too many times this month, but happiness wasn’t about money.

Except, you know, when you needed money to buy things that made you happy. Like food.

Transaction declined.

Heat prickled at my hairline as my armpits began to sweat.

What in the twilight zone is happening here?

My eyes pleaded with her. “I swear, I have no idea what’s going on.”

Unimpressed by my internal meltdown, the cashier simply stared. “It’s thirty-eight dollars and sixty-five cents.”

My mouth popped open at her complete lack of empathy. “No, I understand. I just don’t have any cash, and I don’t know why the cards aren’t working. Are you sure it’s not a system error or something?”

“It’s not.” She sighed, reaching for my chicken Caesar wrap and sliding it toward her like I might snatch it and run.

In her defense, the thoughthadoccurred to me, but I would never do that.

Probably.

I mean, if I just grabbed it and ran, what was she going to do? Chase me? Tackle me over two eighteen-dollar sandwiches? Unlikely.

Would that make me the kind of woman who committed mild deli-related crimes? Also unlikely.

I sighed.Fine. No lunch. No good karma.