The Ex Project by Nia Arthurs

Chapter Fifteen

Zaka could not meetthe eyes of the hospital cashier when she handed over her debit card.

The woman held the last of the money left in Zaka’s bank account. Did she know? Did she realize how close she was to rock-bottom?

A loud, beeping sound from the card machine made her chest cave in.

No, it has to work.

“Try again,” she pleaded.

Please let it work.

The beeping sounded like bullies laughing in her face. Zaka forced her shoulders back. Forced her head high. Forced her smile to remain on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” the cashier said. “It’s saying there’s no money on this card.”

Embarrassment dug its nails into her shoulders and made her mouth numb.

“Do you have another card?”

She shuffled through her purse until she found it.

Casey’s card.

She closed her fingers around it but didn’t tug it out of her purse. Casey had given her his bank card before he left for Orange Walk. She’d been insulted that her sixteen-year-old brother was acting so maturely.

Zaka had intended to give her brother back all his money without touching a dime. But it looked like her dreams were crashing and burning right in front of her face.

“Ma’am?”

You need to get out of this emergency and then you can figure out a way to pay him back.

“Uh… you can use this one.”

“Thank you,” the cashier said politely, reaching for the card.

Zaka held on when the woman tugged.

The cashier gave her a puzzled look. “I said thank you, ma’am.” She gave another pull.

Zaka resisted, pressing her thumb harder on the card. That piece of plastic didn’t just represent money. It was her brother carrying buckets of cement on his back. It was the hot sun beating on his hardhat. It was his dark hands covered in sand and grime.

The cashier grunted, but she managed to overpower Zaka and pry the plastic card from her fingers. With a forced smile that failed to hide her annoyance, the woman said, “You’re clearing the balance of your hospital stay. This does not include the tests for the X-ray and the other examinations. You are aware of that, right?”

“Right.” A headache pounded at her skull. Zaka felt so overwhelmed, she wanted to crawl back into her hospital bed. Unfortunately, they would charge her another exorbitant amount just for taking a nap in that room. She couldn’t afford it.

“Thank you.” The woman handed Casey’s card back to her.

Zaka wanted to throw her hands high and scream ‘don’t thank me, you capitalist’, but she knew that wasn’t fair. The cashier was just doing her job. It wasn’t her fault Zaka was broke and unemployed. It wasn’t her fault her parents died, leaving her as a guardian of her little brother and the new owner to a pile of debt. Cards were dealt out at random and she just happened to pick the one that sucked.

Shuffling out of the hospital, she tested her ankle by putting more weight on it. There was still a slight pinch, but at least she didn’t need crutches anymore. It was a good thing she’d insisted on leaving today. If she’d stayed another night, Casey’s card wouldn’t have been able to cover the expenses.

The hospital’s double doors spread apart, revealing a bright blue sky and the sun that blazed over the Caribbean landscape. Coconut trees towered over residential houses. Their green fronds waved happily and seemed to say ‘you’ll be okay’.

Liars.

She wouldn’t be okay. Not until she found a way to make money and save her brother from a future that was tiring and hopeless.

Gripping the rail, Zaka limped down the ramp. Her ankle was starting to ache again and she really wished she’d told someone she was leaving the hospital. Even Coach Marden would have been helpful.

Zaka decided not to tell him anything because that man was too nosy and kind-hearted for his own good. If he’d heard about her medical trouble, he would have tried to pay her fees again.

It was humiliating enough that he’d paid for the ambulance and for the initial hospital bills. She couldn’t keep depending on him to bail her out of trouble just because he believed her brother could go pro. Coach Marden had nothing to do with her anyway.

Zaka gritted her teeth as she studied the ramp that went on for several more feet. It might as well have stretched for a mile.

Sweat crept over the back of her neck and slipped beneath her white Yenta-themed T-shirt. It was cheaply made as she’d gotten it screen-printed when she won a raffle at a local business. Stains would soon form under her pits and on her belly.

“I can do this,” she breathed, staring at the ramp and holding her leg slightly up. “If I hop, I can make it.”

She braced her hand on the rail, bent her knee and prepared to bunny-hop her way to the ground when a strong hand gripped her upper arm.

Zaka was looking forward, so she couldn’t see the man’s face, but the shadow thrown over the ground in front of her looked massive. It had to be Coach Marden. No one else would be nosy like that.

She shook her hand free, annoyed to be caught in such a vulnerable state by a man who already saw them as charity cases. With an attitude, she grumbled, “I can do it myself.”

“Yes, but it would be pitiful and I wouldn’t want to witness it.”

Her eyes widened. That crisp British accent did not belong to Coach Marden.

Zaka whirled around and fell into a pair of frosty blue eyes. Her heart flopped around her chest when those eyes narrowed at her.

She blinked rapidly.

“You either lean on me or I’ll carry you down. Your pick.”

Her eyebrows pulled in. Sexy British accent aside, the man’s tone was unnecessarily blunt and even a little annoyed. It wasn’t like she’d asked him to be here. What was his problem anyway?

She firmed her bottom lip. “I’m pretty sure you speak English, mister. I said I don’t need—”

Without a moment of hesitation, the stranger in the fancy blue tux dropped her arm and turned briskly away. His sudden departure left her with whiplash. Even if he’d been a jerk about it, the guy had offered to help.

She shook off her melancholy. “Whatever.” Leaning forward, she hopped on one leg. Then another.

A metallic sound caught her attention. She felt someone tug her by the arm and nudge her backward. She squealed, losing her balance and falling crazily but, instead of hitting the ground, Zaka landed against something soft.

Eyes widening, she saw that she was in a wheelchair. Craning her neck all the way back, she gasped when she saw the underside of Annoyed British Guy’s chin.

“The hell?” She turned her entire body around so she didn’t have to strain her neck to look at him. “It’s you again!”

“I thought of physically carrying you in my arms,” he said, still pushing her wheelchair down the hospital ramp. “But then I worried that you’d be crazy enough to sue me for sexual harassment or some such nonsense.”

Her jaw dropped. “Sue you?”

“So I thought it would be safer with the wheelchair.”

By the time he’d finished his clipped little speech, they were already approaching the sidewalk in front of the hospital. The heat got thicker, causing her shirt to stick to her shoulders.

Annoyed British Guy narrowed his eyes at the street and it made him look more handsome and more exasperated at the same time. He checked his watch—a fancy one that looked like it had definitely been purchased abroad—and then stuck out his hand to flag a taxi. Panic struck her heart. She didn’t have a cent in her pocket or in the bank. Taking a taxi now would be foolish.

Zaka popped out of the chair. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks a lot, sir.”

“Sit.” He pressed his hand to her shoulder and firmly, determinedly pushed her back down.

The wheelchair skittered and, with lightening fast movements, he caught it by the handles and brought it to rest at his side.

Zaka dug her teeth into her bottom lip and thought fast. Fine. She would wait until this guy left her and then she’d ask the taxi driver to let her out. Simple. That way she didn’t have to embarrass herself too much.

The taxi came to a stop in front of them and Annoyed British Guy turned to her. He was close enough that she could see the gold and honey brown in his blue eyes. His hair was trimmed at the sides and high at the top. It was a trendy style that seemed to clash with his stuffy suit and shiny shoes.

With the beard and the scowl beneath it, she couldn’t tell his age but he was definitely older than her. Probably around Coach Marden’s age or maybe even older.

She wondered why he was helping her. It wasn’t because he liked her. That frown had only gotten deeper with every second in her company.

He offered his hand. “May I?”

It didn’t register that he was asking permission to touch her until he’d already dug his hand under her leg. His touch remained polite as he carted her from the wheelchair and tucked her into the car.

Despite how rushed and frustrated he appeared, his movements were gentle as he gingerly set her against the seat and then handed her purse to her.

The stranger shut the door and walked to the taxi’s window. Taking his wallet out of his pocket, he unfurled some bills and handed them over. “That should be enough to take her wherever she needs to go.”

“Yes, sir.” The taximan said in a tone that most Belizeans used when speaking to foreigners. It was an exaggerated English that emphasized each syllable as it tried to mimic the American style of speech.

Zaka would have laughed if she wasn’t so stunned.

The man bent further into the car and spoke to her from the front window. “I’ve already taken a picture of the license plate number. Make sure you get home safely.”

Did he? She hadn’t seen him do that.

Was he lying? To protect her?

Her heart thudded harder. Before she could figure him out, the stranger turned swiftly and walked the empty wheelchair back into the hospital.

The car moved off, but she twisted around and stared through the back windshield. Her eyes lingered on the stranger until he disappeared from sight.

Stunned, Zaka sank into her seat and stared at a suburban Belize City as it blurred outside her window. What just happened?

She didn’t believe in miracles. Her life had never given her any evidence to prove they existed. Even if they did, they didn’t happen for her. But she was almost certain that the stranger had been an angel in disguise.

A grumpy angel, perhaps.

And rough.

And gruff.

And generally unpleasant to be around.

Still, she couldn’t discount what he’d done even if the way he’d done it had been less than pleasant.

It was at that moment she realized she hadn’t told him thank you. Her parents hadn’t raised her to be so unmannerly and it sickened her to think that she hadn’t at least offered her gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the cab.

It felt like a hollow exchange, but she didn’t have a choice. It was highly unlikely that she would ever see that man again.