“Riley, we can talk about this later. I’m in the middle of something.”
“No, we’re going to talk about it now. Did you call the police and report it?”
“They never find stolen cars. They take the report and then make you feel like an idiot because it was stolen. I’ll figure out a way to buy another car.”
“Oh my God, Mother! My name is on those loan papers. I’m liable for those monthly payments. I can’t afford that.” The walls of the stairwell started to close in, trapping her. Tears filled her eyes.
“It’ll work out. It always does. Just don’t make the payments. What are they going to do?”
“It’ll ruin my credit for life!” she cried.
“I’m not going to talk about this anymore tonight. I’ve got to go.” Her mom hung up.
Riley fell against the wall, the phone dead in her hand, tears streaming down her face.
The door to the stairwell opened. Erika peeked in. “Oh no! What’s wrong?”
“The car my mom had me sign the loan papers for was stolen. And she never insured it.”
“What do you need me to do?” Erika asked, always the loyal friend.
“I want to be very, very drunk. Can you help me with that?”
Erika took her by the arm. “I can do that.” She led her back to the rooftop and over to the guys.
“Is everything okay?” Bennett asked.
“No. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You say that a lot, don’t you?” he teased.
“I do. Can I get something stronger than beer?”
“Uh, sure.” Bennett looked to Erika for permission. She nodded.
25
“Riley, wake up.”
Riley’s brain ached and the inside of her mouth felt fuzzy.
“You have to wake up, right now!” Erika’s urgent voice sounded in her ear.
“Go away,” she moaned, clinging to her pillow.
Erika shook her shoulder. “The police are at the door. Get up!”
Her eyes popped open. “What! Why?”
“I don’t know. Hurry. They’re waiting.”
Riley sat up, the motion causing her head to swirl. She braced her hands on the bed to stay upright.
“Here are some shorts.” Erika tossed them onto Riley’s lap.
She took a slow breath to steady herself and slipped her legs into the shorts she’d worn last night. She stood slowly and buttoned them. Erika handed her a fresh top. She pulled it on over the cami she slept in.
Why would the police be here? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Matt! What had her brother done? But why would they come here? Her mind raced with possible scenarios. She glanced in the mirror at her pale face and messy hair. She smoothed it as she made her way through the living room.
Two ominous-looking police officers stood larger than life on the other side of the open door.
“Um, hi. Can I help you?”
“Are you Riley Parks?” one officer asked.
“Yes.” She held the doorframe for support.
“Your vehicle was located crashed into a bagel shop on Halstead Street at four o’clock this morning.”
“What?” Her mind swirled as she tried to make sense of things.
“Yes. It’s a 2009 Mazda registered in your name.”
Her heart sank. “It’s not actually my car. I mean, my name is on the paperwork, but it’s really my mom’s. It was stolen a couple of days ago.”
The officers exchanged a doubtful glance.
“Miss, there is no stolen vehicle report on file for this car. May I remind you that lying to the police is considered obstructing, and that you need to be truthful from this point forward.”
“I’m not lying. I promise,” she pleaded.
“I suggest you speak to your mother and see if you can determine who may have stolen the car and been driving at the time of the crash.”
“I talked to her last night, and she has no idea who stole it.”
“In that case I will be issuing you a ticket for Owner Liability Hit and Run.” He pulled out his pad and began writing.
“But I didn’t do it,” she said in almost a whisper.
The officer glanced up. “Miss. It’s your vehicle and your responsibility. If you had reported the vehicle stolen before the time of the crash, it would be a different situation.” He resumed scribbling.
How could this be happening? Her stomach churned with turmoil.
“What is your phone number?” he asked.
She recited the number. He jotted it down and tore off the slip of paper.
“Here you are.” He held out the ticket.
Riley didn’t want to touch the thing but had no choice.
“There is a court date listed for a month from now.”
She accepted the ticket.
“Also, your vehicle has been towed, and it’s in pretty bad condition. Here’s the address.” He handed over another slip. “Do you have any questions?”
Her pounding head swam with details. “No. I don’t think so.”
“All right then, good day.” He turned and left her standing alone in the open doorway, with the ticket in hand.
“It’s a little late for that,” she mumbled, staring at the citation. She closed the door and leaned against it. Thank God she had all that money from Steven Hunter, but at this rate, she wouldn’t have enough left to do her laundry.
Erika joined her. “That’s a crime. You’ve never even driven the car.”
“And now I have to pay to get it out of hock, and then make payments on a car that doesn’t even run. I don’t have that much money.”
“What are you going to do?” Erika asked.
Her stomach rolled. “I’m going to be sick.”
Riley ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She heaved into the toilet. Her hair hung around the porcelain bowl, creating a red curtain, a pathetic veil of privacy to her shame.
When her stomach finally stopped churning, she lay on the bathroom floor. She gripped a bath towel and willed her head to stop spinning.
She tried to make sense of everything the police officer had said. Someone crashed her mom’s car, and yet Riley had to pay for it all. She pressed her flushed face to the cool tiles.
How could she come up with money to pay for a car that she no longer owned and damage to a building she’d never been to?
26
Whoever decided July fifth should be a workday had never been to a decent Fourth of July celebration. Riley couldn’t imagine what artists would be recording today. Despite her pounding head, she pushed through the front doors and was greeted by a fake silver Christmas tree glittering in the lobby. She turned her weary eyes on Tara.
“It’s Jamie Halloway. She’s working on a Christmas album and wants to set the mood,” Tara explained as she taped tiny stockings to the edge of her desk.
“Lord save me,” Riley mumbled. She entered the break room and headed straight for the ibuprofen. The two she took after the police left weren’t working. She forced herself to drink an entire glass of water, even though her stomach wasn’t happy about it.
Logan found her a few minutes later, scrounging through the cupboards.
“How was your Fourth?” he asked in far too chipper of a voice.
“Rainbows and unicorns. You?”
Logan laughed and leaned against the counter. “Low key. My girlfriend and I went to my uncle’s place for an annual picnic. Lots of family, potato salad, and sparklers.”
“Aha!” She found a box of crackers and seized it.
“So what did you do, beyond drinking a whole lot of alcohol?”
Riley leaned against the counter and dug into the box. “Well, I met a nice guy who seemed to like me up until the moment I turned into a sloppy drunk and wiped out the snack table, and cried over spilled salsa.” She wished she could delete that memory.
Logan cringed.
“And my mom has probably ruined my credit for the rest of my life
, not to mention saddled me with debt.”
Logan’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Fun times.”
“The only good thing is that I’ve got that money from Steven Hunter, so at least I can use that to make the payments for a while. After that, I’m not sure what I’ll do.”
“That really sucks.”
Garrett strode in. “What sucks?” He stared at her with too many unspoken words between them. She hadn’t seen him since he tried to railroad her into singing at the Cubs game, and she wasn’t especially happy to see him now.
“Nothing.” Riley forced a carefree smile.
“Garrett, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you might still be on lockdown,” Logan joked.
“Huh?” She’d been so wrapped up in her own drama. Had Garrett been arrested?
Garrett poured himself coffee. “Nope. I’m out and I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“Out from where?” Riley asked, but neither guy was talking. “Okay, someone has to catch me up.”
“Oh, Garrett and Brad made the news when he was arrested at the Marina Towers the other night after his performance at Wrigley Field.” Logan grinned.
Riley almost wished she’d been there to see it, but she’d been so mad at the time and had left. At least Logan enjoyed it. “So, what was the arrest for, a drug bust or soliciting a prostitute?” She smirked. Logan blurted out a laugh.
Garrett slid the coffeepot back into place. “Nice to see you have such a high opinion of me.”
“Come on. Tell me,” Riley urged, happy to focus on someone else’s problems.
“Tell you what?” Tara asked, strolling in, clutching a bag.
“What Garrett and Brad were arrested for,” Riley answered.
“Where’ve you been? It’s in the Tribune, on TMZ, there’s even a YouTube video of their walk of shame. I have the paper at my desk with the picture. It’s kind of cute,” Tara said, tossing an affectionate smile Garrett’s way.
“And?” Riley asked.
“He and Brad were climbing down the Marina Towers. From the outside.”
Riley gaped at Garrett. “Seriously? You did that?”
He grimaced the affirmative and took a sip of his coffee.
“Are you nuts?” she asked.
“Apparently so.”
“Look, here’s the pic on TMZ.” Logan held out his phone. Riley took it and saw a grainy picture of the two guys walking with their hands cuffed behind their backs, staring at the camera, their faces lit by the flash.
“You’re looking straight at the camera. Oh my God. This is so adorable.” Nothing like Garrett getting arrested to cheer her up.
Garrett rolled his eyes. He didn’t storm out of the room, so he must not be too embarrassed.
“You shouldn’t make fun of him,” Tara said.
“Why not? It’s not every day I get to see Mr. Big Shot here taking the walk of shame.”
“Because you’re working with Jamie Halloway on her Christmas album, and she bought sweaters for everyone on her team.” Tara held the bag out to Riley and struggled to keep a straight face.
“She didn’t,” Riley said, afraid of what it contained.
“Oh yes, she did.” Tara seemed too eager to hand over the bag.
“No,” Riley whined. She accepted it, reached in, and pulled out a red sweater with a huge Christmas tree complete with garland and embroidered ornaments appliquéd to the front.
Her good mood evaporated. “She doesn’t expect me to actually wear this, does she?”
“Pretty sure she does. Be glad you didn’t get the one with dancing reindeer with little pompoms where their boy parts are.”
Garrett smiled broadly. “Now I can die happy. Mind putting that on so I can get a picture of you?”
“Not on your life.” Riley stuffed the sweater back in the bag and stomped off.
27
Riley entered the control room of Studio D. A blast of cool air greeted her. A woman in red skinny jeans and stylish black boots was sliding a fake fireplace against the wall next to the sound board. Beside it, a box overflowed with fake greenery.
“Hello,” Riley called, rubbing her arms against the chill.
The woman turned, swinging her silky black hair over her shoulder. She wore a cream-colored cable-knit sweater.
“Oh, hi. I’m just setting up this fireplace. I couldn’t find one in Chicago, so my grandmother sent me hers. I’m Jamie. I see you got the sweater, so you must be on my team.”
Riley looked down at the bag and fought back a grimace over the ugly sweater. “Yes, ah, thanks. I’m Riley. Can I help you, maybe turn up the heat? It must be sixty degrees in here.”
Jamie laughed, setting her red Christmas ball earrings swinging. “Oh, that’s on purpose. I’m turning the studio into a holiday winter wonderland to put us all in the mood to record Christmas music in July. And sorry about the sweater. They’re hard to find this time of year, but don’t worry. You didn’t get the worst one.”
Riley smiled. “What can I help you with?”
“A lot, actually. I want this room and the live room oozing with Christmas spirit. Let’s put up what we have and then I’ll send you on a run for what we’re missing. But first, put on your sweater. It’s cold in here.”
Riley hesitated.
Jamie grinned. “Come on, we’re going to have a blast. I promise.”
Riley pulled the obnoxious sweater on over her T-shirt and laughed. This day might turn out well after all.
An hour later, a wreath hung from the door, the fake fireplace burned bright, and twinkle-light garland swooped from the door and the window to the live room.
Jamie surveyed their work. “That’s most of it. You’ll need to go out in search of more supplies. See if you can find some tinsel, maybe some candy canes, and definitely more white lights. I want to lower these glaring fluorescents and create a mood.”
“All right,” Riley said, although she had no idea where she’d find such items this time of year.
“You can put it all on this card. Anything you find that’s Christmassy, go ahead and buy.”
“I’ll do my best.” As soon as Riley stepped out of the control room, she slipped off the sweater. No reason to set herself up for ridicule.
She retrieved keys to the company errand car, a slightly dented blue Impala, from Tara at the front desk, and headed out in search of Christmas. Was it only a week ago that her mother drove off in the car Riley had stupidly bought? Her Christmas cheer evaporated in an instant.
Where the heck was she supposed to find Christmas decor? No regular store would carry decorations this time of year. Maybe a discount dollar store would.
She pulled into a strip mall and parked. Once inside the bargain store, and with a basket over her arm, Riley perused the shelves for any held-over holiday supplies, finally finding Christmas stuff in a back corner. She passed on ugly stiff ribbons stapled flat to cardboard, but put the plastic silver ornaments shaped like icicles into her basket. As she squatted next to a box of mostly chipped Christmas mugs, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello.”
“Is this Riley Parks?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Hank Schmelzer from Radial Insurance. I’m calling to verify that you are the owner of a 2009 Mazda?”
Crud. Her shoulders tensed, she set down a reindeer mug and stood.
“Yes.”
“I represent the owner of the Bokorski Bagel shop. Are you aware that your vehicle crashed into the building?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “It wasn’t me. The car was stolen. I’ve already talked to the police.”
“My company insures the bagel shop and will be compensating the owner for damages. However, we will now be seeking reimbursement for damages from the liable party, which in this case would be the vehicle’s owner, you.”
“I didn’t do it. Honestly. The car was stolen.”
“But it was your vehicle that struck the
building, so that makes you liable.” He went on to confirm her mailing address. “You’ll receive legal documents in the mail in the next several days.”
“For how much?”
“I haven’t received the damage estimates yet, but I’d assume it’s north of ten thousand dollars.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“As I said, you’ll receive more exact information via the mail. Thank you for your time.”
The phone went dead.
28
That night, Riley tossed and turned in bed, unable to stop thinking about her financial disaster. She had the police ticket, a monthly car payment due soon, and now bills for the damn bagel shop. It was too much.
Somehow she needed to take control of this insane situation. The first step would be to disown her mother. Next, she could pay the police ticket. The sooner it was off her pile of debt, the better. At least that she could afford. Before she caught the “L” to work, she stopped by the bank.
“What do you mean there’s not enough money in the account?” Riley asked the bank teller in disbelief.
“According to our records, all but two hundred dollars was withdrawn a few days ago.”
“But I should have almost four thousand dollars in my account.”
The teller clicked a few keys on the keyboard, her brow knit. “You did, until it was withdrawn. Hang on a second, let me check something.”
Riley shifted from one foot to the other. How could her money be gone? Could it be stolen? Did someone steal her identity?
“I see that this is a custodial account with your mother as custodian and you as the beneficiary. Maybe she made the withdrawal?”
Riley’s heart and soul fell from her body like a trapdoor had opened up and swallowed them into no-man’s-land. “How could she do that? I’m eighteen. She shouldn’t be able to touch my account.”
The teller grimaced. “Unless you both come in and sign off to change the account, it remains as a custodial account.”
Riley rubbed her forehead and fought back the tears that welled in her eyes. “I didn’t know. I never would have put money in my account if I knew that.”
Under the Spotlight Page 12
