Page 3

Two

Maddie

“Stay on the phone with me,” Erica says. She’s been my best friend since first grade, and she was overprotective back then, too.

“I can’t. I’m running out of battery, and what if I need it?”

“You have to. It’s not safe out there.”

If she could pick me up, she would, but she’s literally on the other side of the world on vacation right now, lying on a beach drinking Mai Tais. Our worlds have seriously diverted down different paths.

She’s right. I shouldn’t be walking in the city this late at night.

I shouldn’t have been out tonight at all if we’re being really honest. I didn’t even like Mike.

But I haven’t been on a date in six months, and I know my parents just want me to find some nice financially secure guy to take me off their hands—even though I’m helping them.

It’s been really hard since the IRS took all our stuff.

I’m so angry at my father for not paying his taxes my entire damn life and longer.

It didn’t have to be this way. One of the few things we have left is my trust fund.

But until I’m thirty, I only have access to a three-thousand dollar monthly distribution, which doesn’t go far for three people trying to keep the lights on in our neighborhood.

It was tense for a while but after a long investigation it was determined that my trust hadn’t been used to hide assets, it was set up properly, and being mine, couldn’t be taken away.

My father still has his income, but so much of it is being garnished by the government that very little of it is trickling back to us. Of all of us, I have the most access to money even though it’s not nearly enough.

Erica offered to let me move in with her for a while, and I should probably do that, but I can’t just leave my family in the lurch. And I can’t sponge off of my friend.

I’m sure I can turn my fine arts degree into something that pays me money.

But Art History is the kind of degree you can really only directly use to teach Art History.

Most of the jobs I could get to help out are not the kind of jobs someone in my social class works.

And if I got one of those jobs, the cat would be out of the bag and everyone in our social circle would know something has gone very wrong, and the truth could come out.

I can’t expose my family like that, so here I am.

I technically “have” money, but it’s all locked up in the legal set-up of the trust.

The plan was always to use college for enrichment and then I was going to take a few years off to find myself or whatever and start a business.

Dad would have been able to float me a loan to start it…

hell maybe even a gift if he thought my business plan was sound, but just before I could really settle on something, the IRS swooped in.

And then it was an endless parade of questions and accusations and confiscations.

The past year has been a nightmare.

For the first time we’re pinching pennies.

I have to question if I can afford even the littlest things now.

I used to never have to look at the price of anything.

A thousand dollar pair of shoes? I barely knew how much they cost. I had only the vaguest sense of how much a thousand dollars even was.

It all felt like Monopoly money to me. I just put it on the card and knew it would be taken care of.

Now I have to waffle over the cost of a small frozen yogurt that I can only have as a treat once a week.

I wish I still had my Ferrari. I loved that car. It was a gift from my father when I graduated from Vassar. I wish I still had access to a driver . That was for sure convenient. If I did I wouldn’t be walking on this questionable street right now.

I should have called an Uber, but I used all my cash to pay my half of dinner on a bad date with a guy who not only made lewd suggestions all night about how he expected things to end, but couldn’t even pick up the bill.

He said he thought I was a modern woman , so I don’t need daddy or anybody else to pay for me.

On the one hand this probably means that word about our finances hasn’t gotten out yet.

The people at our financial institutions have been very discreet, but the first domino will fall soon.

Our country club annual membership is coming due in a few weeks, and they’ll notice when the $40,000 check doesn’t clear.

Word is beginning to spread that we’re relocating.

It’s the explanation for our house being up for sale.

I don’t know what that means for my father’s business.

He doesn’t talk about it. I don’t want to relocate.

This is my home. This is my city. And my best friend is here.

But I’m genuinely concerned my parents can’t make it right now without me.

Maybe Mike does know about my financial situation and thought he could use it to control me.

After all, in my circles you pick up the tab.

It’s the classy thing to do, and you’ve got it so why wouldn’t you?

The only way Mike wouldn’t be paying for my dinner is…

if he knew. Right? Was he trying to squeeze some kind of confession out of me?

So many people think I’m just some mean girl, but every social aspect of life is brutal when you come from a family like mine.

Everything is a draconian hierarchy and people are just waiting for you to fall so they can claim the spoils.

It’s medieval really. But I was never mean…

at least not since high school. Just… guarded.

What did I expect of Mike? I knew how he was in his frat. I was a member of their sister sorority after all. I’ve seen things. Did I expect he’d just magically become a decent human in the last five years?

I don’t know… I thought he’d grow up. Like I did. Doesn’t everyone, eventually?

“Hey… space cadet… you still there? Did you get murdered?”

“Don’t even joke, Erica.” I don’t know why I’ve been so quiet, it’s not as though talking on the phone drains the battery any faster than having it on and not talking.

“Well, talk to me, let me know you’re still with us. Tell me about this motherfucker who lets you walk home alone in all this.”

“ Let is a strong word,” I say. “I snuck out through the kitchen after I said I had to go to the bathroom. He thought he was going to fuck on the first date and he still couldn’t buy me dinner. I swear, the current crop of losers think dating is a way to get a free sex worker.”

“What a piece of shit.”

I should have gone with Erica on vacation.

She offered to pay for everything, but I was too proud.

It’s not even fully spring yet. I could be on a nice warm sandy beach right now instead of freezing my ass off here.

I should have called my dad, but I didn’t want anybody to see the car he’d drive to pick me up in which sounds dumber every time I replay my reasoning in my mind.

“I only have thirteen percent battery, I have to hang up.”

“Call me the second you get in, or I’ll worry,” she says.

“I promise.”

I disconnect the call and drop the phone in my bag. I think I heard a sound. Like… a crunch. I turn, quickly scanning the area. It’s a far too dark street with not enough street lamps.

I’m so glad I decided against dressing up and wearing heels tonight.

I mean, why not make myself even easier prey while I do every dumb thing in the horror movie handbook?

I should have just escaped to the bathroom before paying and used the money for an Uber.

What exactly was I trying to prove? I should have stiffed that asshole with the bill.

He should have been paying anyway. He wasted my night rambling about his stocks and inserting inappropriate commentary about what he thought my bra size was… on a first date.

Fuck that guy.

I realize too late that I’ve been going the wrong direction. I’m not used to the city’s layout from a pedestrian perspective. This is decidedly not the good side of town. And somehow while talking to Erica and being in my head, I’ve gotten to a much seedier area than I started out in.

I’m about to turn around and make a beeline back to the restaurant.

I’ll swallow my pride and call my dad and get a ride.

I mean… wasn’t that what I would have had to do anyway?

It wasn’t like I could walk all the way home.

I was just so furious about how my date was going.

I just… didn’t think. Mike has probably realized I’m gone and left by now.

I can just double back and use the last of my cell phone battery to make my first smart decision of the night.

“Hey, Baby, you want me to warm that sweet ass up?”

Normally this kind of lame cat call would have me rolling my eyes, but it’s after dark in the wrong part of the city, and I’m alone.

I run. There is no point in pretending I’m not scared or that I don’t realize the danger I’ve suddenly stumbled into like every bad B movie that’s ever been scripted.

I mean, it may as well be my first day in the Big City, for all the stupidity.

I might have gotten an easy degree, but I graduated with a 4.

0. I’m not a little idiot. At least I wasn’t before today.

I hear him behind me, gaining on me because even though I’m wearing the kind of boots that are easy to run in, he’s likely got far longer legs than me. He eats up the distance between us in only a couple of minutes. I didn’t have a chance.

I’m still in denial that I’m about to become a Netflix documentary as he pulls me into an alley. And he’s got a friend because of course he does. They’re both a lot bigger than me. I fumble in my bag for my taser, but it slips from my fingers onto the ground before I can use it.

The guy that dragged me off the main street bends to pick it up. He holds it next to my face, and I hear the electric buzz as he makes his threat clear.