Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

36

Charlotte

I cursed so loudly that the Copperheads glanced over at me. But I was too angry to even think about their reaction. Because on my app was a very large purchase made by a name I recognized.

“Damn, Peaches,” Jayce whispered in the booth behind me. “Whatever’s got you riled up must be real bad if you’re cursing.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Want me to drive you home?” he asked as I passed the booth.

I shook my head, and not just because it was a dumb thing to suggest with the Copperheads watching. “I need to walk this off.”

I stomped down the road for a few minutes, collecting myself before making the phone call. I didn’t want anyone hearing this.

Scott answered on the second ring. “Oh, now you want to talk to me, Charlie?”

“There’s a three thousand dollar charge on my credit card!” I yelled.

“Right,” Scott said. “That’s your half of the magazine ad spot. Just like we talked about.”

“Like we talked about?” I shouted into the phone. “We didn’t talk about this at all!”

“That’s not true.” Scott had the same tone he took on when he knew he was technically correct about something that was misleading. “The last time we spoke, I asked you to pay half of the magazine fee. You told me to go fuck myself, but right before that you said you didn’t care what I did. I took that to mean you were giving me the green light to make whatever financial decision I thought was best.”

“Yes! With your money, not mine, Scott!”

“You own half the business,” he said calmly.

I almost hurled my phone into the field next to the road. Somehow, I held back. “How did you even get my credit card number?”

“It’s on file with our business PayPal account. You were using it for other business expenses, so I assumed you wanted me to use it for this.”

I bit back another curse. “I’d been putting business expenses on my personal card because our business card was already maxed out.”

“Well, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I did have to do that,” I shot back, “because we still had daily expenses for running the truck! Or do you think we could sell burgers without any ground beef or buns?”

“Please do not blame me for your financial mistakes,” Scott said. “If you did not want the card to be used for the magazine ad spot, you should not have attached it to the business PayPal account. I was merely doing what I thought was best for the business.”

My financial mistakes. As if him charging half the magazine ad fee to my credit card was somehow my fault.

“Scott, for someone who is reasonably intelligent, there are times where you’re completely clueless.”

“I’m clueless because you left.”

I wasn’t expecting such an emotional response. Not from him. “I left?” I asked incredulously.

“You left,” he repeated. “You walked out of our dinner meeting and didn’t say a word to me. You just packed your things from the apartment and disappeared. I’ve been trying to call you so we can figure out what to do with the business. Just because you left Savannah in the middle of the night doesn’t absolve you of your responsibilities here.”

I reached the motel and went inside my room, locking the chain behind me. “What did you expect me to do? You told me you wanted to take a break to figure things out, and then you started seeing someone else. Did you really expect me to continue working on the food truck with you, pretending like nothing had changed?”

I heard him snort. “I expected you to be an adult about it, Charlie. You’re letting your emotions get in the way of purely financial decisions.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “It’s all my fault, like it always is. Scott, you maxed out my credit card with that purchase. I’m dead in the water here until you cancel the magazine ad.”

He made a humming sound. The sound he made when he was about to explain why something was a bad idea. “That would be a mistake.”

“I don’t care if it’s a mistake. I didn’t agree to it.”

“Charlie,” he said. Normally this tone of his was soothing, but now it sounded condescending. “You know it’s too late to cancel.”

“No it’s not,” I said through gritted teeth. “Call the magazine and tell them you’ve changed your mind. The purchase was made last night—it’s not like they’ve done any work yet. Heck, if you’re too afraid to call them, I’ll do it for you.”

“Going back on it would burn my connection at the magazine.” That same condescending tone. “Surely you understand that upsetting the largest food magazine in Savannah would be catastrophic for our business in the long-term. Listen, Charlie. I’m sorry you connected your personal card to the business PayPal. That was an honest mistake on your part. But the best thing for you to do now is get another personal credit card. Even if it’s just to get by in the short-term, that will help us—”

I hung up. I couldn’t listen to him gaslight me anymore. Acting like it was my fault, while he was just trying to do what he thought was best.

I sat on my bed and clenched my eyelids shut to squeeze the tears out. I was blind to it while we had been together, but now I could see just how manipulative Scott was. He would do something he knew was wrong for selfish reasons, then find a way to convince you it was all your fault. When I watched him do it with some of our suppliers or clients who hired us for parties, I’d chalked it up to Scott being a smooth business negotiator.

In reality, he was just an asshole.

“Asshole,” I muttered to the bed sheets. It felt good saying it out loud. It gave me a little more strength than I had moments before. Speaking truth to words.

I wished I had that six-pack right about now. Or a bottle of good whiskey. It was almost tempting to walk back into town and have a few drinks at Flop’s.

Almost.

I pulled out my phone to call Momma, then remembered she was still volunteering at the bingo hall. She wouldn’t be home for another two hours.

Instead, I re-read the text from Jayce. It didn’t sting as much as it had the first four times I’d read it. My better judgement was telling me to brush my teeth and call it an early night, but the sinking pit in my stomach made my fingers fly across the screen keyboard.

Jayce replied almost instantly.

Charlotte: Want to forget what you said earlier, and come screw my brains out until I feel better? I don’t care if it’s only physical.

Jayce: As much as I want to, it’s too dangerous.

Jayce: Sorry, Peaches.

I winced. It was the response I had expected, but it was worth trying anyways. Now I just felt like the desperate fool who couldn’t handle rejection.

I fell back on the bed and groaned. Tomorrow was going to be awkward. Maybe I could play it off as a joke with Jayce. Hopefully he still made an extra sandwich for lunch. Without any money, that might be my only meal tomorrow. Heck, the payment for the next week in the motel was due tomorrow, too. I might be living out of my car pretty soon.

And paying ten bucks a day in parking fees, too.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, a hard knock came on my door.