More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1)

by Allison Michaels

  “Last time I checked, two consenting adults don’t need a third party’s approval,” I countered, staring him down.

  Collette leaned over, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Don’t even think about lecturing me, not when your pants have been on the floor of every restroom in a ten-block radius.”

  Neil barked out a laugh. “It’s more like twenty, but hey, who’s counting? I feel like the odd man out now, since I’m the only person at this table who apparently hasn’t messed around in the john of this fine establishment.”

  A waitress showed up to take our orders. Her green eyes honed right in on Les. “Hey, you. It’s been a while.” She tossed her long blond hair over her shoulders and bent at the waist to speak to him, her boobs coming dangerously close to popping out of her skintight shirt. “I can take a break soon if you want to chat.”

  Collette smiled like the cat who ate an entire cage of canaries. “Yes, go talk about world peace or whatever it is you two prefer to discuss across the Formica.”

  Neil grinned broadly as the poor girl turned beet red. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Coco? You’re a modern-day David who takes Goliath down on the first try, without the slingshot.”

  “Words are the only weapon she needs,” I quipped, bumping fists with Neil.

  Les paid us no attention. “When do you get off tonight?” he asked the girl.

  Collette, Neil, and I busted up laughing.

  “Fuck all three of you immature shitheads,” Les snapped, throwing down his napkin. He stood and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, steering her through the maze of tables. They disappeared into the alcove.

  “She didn’t even take our orders.” Collette crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to pout.

  “I’ll get a bucket of beer and ask for a new server since ours is busy taking care of her favorite customer.” Neil said, wiping his eyes as he pushed out his chair. He raised and lowered both hands, bending at the waist as he bowed in front of her several times. “Maybe one day he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut, but until then I am in awe of your ability to cut him to shreds.”

  Collette laughed as he headed toward the bar. “See what you’ve done? I almost got in trouble because of you,” she said teasingly.

  “Sorry I’m not sorry,” I replied with a half-hearted shrug.

  Neil returned a few minutes later with a metal pail. “Someone will swing by in a minute or two.”

  “You’re not going to believe this,” a woman at the table next to us said to her friends. “Someone’s getting it on in the men’s bathroom. I could hear them through the wall. It sounded like the elephant exhibit at the zoo during mating season.”

  I cracked up again but stopped when neither Collette nor Neil joined in.

  “Did you get a good look at her?” Neil asked, doing Origami on his napkin.

  Collette nodded. “She’s the closest ringer yet. Must be why he went back for seconds.”

  “All right, you lost me. Anyone care to bring me up to speed?” I took a swig from my bottle and waited for an explanation.

  Neil held up a paper crane. “Les has a habit of hooking up with women who bear a striking resemblance to his ex.”

  “Ohhh, I get it. Is it a one-who-got-away situation?”

  “No.” Collette shook her head. “More like the one he pushed away.”

  A brunette with a pixie cut stepped up. “Sorry for the wait, what can I get you?”

  Les settled back into his seat as we dug into a spinach artichoke dip appetizer and reached for the bread basket like nothing had ever happened.

  16

  Collette

  Seven years earlier

  Britta plunked down next to me on the bench, pulling her pea coat off to reveal a brand-new shirt with the Abercrombie moose logo scrawled across the front. It matched the one on the waistband of her skinny jeans, which were tucked into pristine knee-high UGG boots. Real suede ones with the label across the back.

  Her father must have popped in and taken her on one of his infamous guilt-induced shopping trips over the weekend. Britta’s parents had divorced last year, and she rarely saw him now with how often he traveled for his job.

  I wanted to be happy for my best friend.

  I really, really did.

  But instead, I felt insanely jealous sitting in the cafeteria in my Target clearance rack jeans and fake UGGs all scuffed up on the toes and heels. “I’ve got awesome neeeeeews,” I sang, trying to focus on something positive to put myself in a better mood.

  “Yeah? Well, spill it. Does it involve our little business venture?”

  Britta and I had joined forces last month to earn cash for the senior trip to New York City in April by making bracelets and selling them to other students.

  We studded wide black leather bands with a silver panther-like cat and other school or sport-related charms for guys. Most of them wanted things related to their hobbies, like various balls and skateboards. I’d managed to find crucifixes and infinity symbols for the non-jocks but needed to widen the offerings to entice more customers.

  Girls had a wider variety to choose from. I attached tiny lipsticks, cheerleading megaphones, panthers, and other selections to the delicate loops of silver chains with a pair of special jewelry pliers.

  Henri had paid for my airline ticket and hotel room but put me in charge of earning my own fun money. Britta was in the same boat. Her dad had footed the bill for travel and accommodations, but her mother insisted that she earn spending money the old-fashioned way by getting a job.

  I’d gotten the idea to sell charm bracelets based on the popularity of the ones in the Pandora store at the mall. Most kids our age didn’t have the money for them, but they could afford a cheaper version for a fraction of the price.

  “It does. We have eight new orders. Word must be spreading the way we hoped it would. Didn’t I tell you suggesting them as Christmas gifts would be a good idea?” I pulled out the legal pad with the new customers and slid it across the table. “We’ll have to swing by the craft store for more supplies this afternoon.”

  “I have volleyball practice,” she said, lifting a greasy slice of cheese pizza to her lips.

  “Okay, just give me a hundo and I’ll go by myself. Maybe Neil will come with and give me his opinion on unisex charms so we can increase our range for guys. I think Zodiac signs might be a good option.”

  “Can’t it wait until next week? I’m really busy. I’ve got stuff every day after school, and my dad is coming in on Friday night to spend the weekend with me for the first time in like, five weeks. I’ll give you the money before first period Monday morning.”

  Hold up a sec. If Britta hadn’t seen dear old dad in five weeks, who had bought her the new threads? And why was she being so evasive about giving me the money? The gears in my head started turning, and my heart sank with the realization of what she had done.

  “How much did your new outfit cost?” I asked.

  She frowned and reached for the can of soda on her lunch tray. “That’s kind of a rude question, Lettie.”

  “How much did you spend on it?”

  Her long auburn curls fell forward to shield her face as she painstakingly cleaned the can’s top with a napkin, as though a sterility test would be performed on it with one of those crime lab UV lights.

  “Look at me, damn it!” I said loudly enough to catch the attention of the girls at the next table. “How much of the money we were supposed to be saving did you spend on your new clothes, Britta?”

  The lunchroom went eerily silent, and necks craned to see who was fighting. Neil stood at his table across the room, eyebrows raised in silent question. I shook my head at him because his help was both unnecessary and unwanted.

  This wasn’t his battle.

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” She popped the tab and took a sip of her Diet Coke. “All I did was give myself an advance on my half to get an outfit ahead of time, so I’d look cool for New York.”

&nbs
p; “You had no right to do that!” I yelled angrily, mentally doing the math on how much each item had probably cost. The final tally had to be in the ballpark of three hundred dollars, which was roughly fifty dollars less than what had been in the lockbox when we counted it two weeks ago.

  It was almost gone. There wasn’t even enough left to buy the supplies necessary to complete the orders I had received this morning.

  “Jesus, calm down. And lower your voice before the entire cafeteria gets a show.” Britta pulled a compact out of her purse and dabbed some powder on her nose. “Dad will reimburse me this weekend. He’ll be thrilled to not have to go to the mall since I already went and bought what I wanted. Like I said, I’ll give you the money to buy supplies on Monday morning.”

  I gathered up my trash to keep my hands occupied. I was liable to hit Britta upside the head with the legal pad if they were idle. “I want my half on Monday morning.”

  “What? Why?” She frowned as I stood and slung my backpack over a shoulder. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll fill these orders and give you half of the proceeds. Then our partnership is over.” I picked up my tray and headed toward the trash can.

  She grabbed me by a wrist. “You can’t just up and quit whenever you feel like it.”

  I shook off her grasp. “Why not? You just up and helped yourself to what wasn’t yours and did as you pleased.”

  Britta stood and parked her hands on her hips. “Oh, I get it. You’re jealous because you don’t have a father who can buy you nice things.”

  My face flamed. I didn’t appreciate any kind of attention to my orphan status, a fact Britta was well aware of. This was a low blow, and it hurt twice as much coming from her. “At least I’m not a thief,” I volleyed, turning on my heel to dump my garbage.

  “I didn’t steal anything” she yelled, her cheeks bright pink. “Get off your high horse. God, you’re such a bitch. I’m not even sure why we’re friends.”

  “That makes two of us,” I snapped, slamming my tray on the stack next to the door.

  A hand landed on my shoulder. “Mr. Douglas is on his way over here,” Neil said in my ear. “Unless you want an express pass to the office, walk away now.”

  Great. I had no desire to explain what had happened to the vice-principal. He couldn’t fix my problem. Unless Britta actually got the money from her father and gave me half, I was totally screwed and had to go back to square one.

  “I know you’re pissed, but this isn’t worth getting detention over. Let’s go for a walk around the quad so you can cool down,” Neil urged, giving my shoulder a tug.

  “Is there a problem, Ms. Russo?” Mr. Douglas asked, his gaze ping-ponging between Britta and me.

  Britta looked at me pleadingly, her blue eyes wide with fear.

  She was completely at my mercy. I could tell Mr. Douglas the truth and get her into a shitload of trouble. And it was hella tempting because I was super pissed and wanted her to pay for what she’d done.

  This spat wasn’t just about money.

  It was about honesty and loyalty, two characteristics she sorely lacked.

  “No,” I told the teacher, pushing through the double doors.

  “There are openings for evening and weekend waitress shifts at Helen’s,” Neil said as we stepped outside and headed for the grassy area between the school and athletic fields. He worked in the kitchen at the little pizzeria, slinging dough for his own dollars to spend in NYC. “Want me to grab an application for you tonight?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  We trudged up the knoll and plopped down. “I can’t believe Britta did that to you,” Neil said, opening a pack of Twinkies and holding it out.

  I grabbed a snack cake and bit into it because I didn’t feel like talking about Britta. Or looking for a job. Or anything, really.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No. I’m broke,” I muttered, licking frosting out of the other half of the spongy treat.

  “Maybe she’ll do the right thing and give you your half.”

  I snorted and crammed the rest of the dessert in my mouth. Still reeling from Britta’s deceit, I had little faith and didn’t expect to get a dime from her.

  “There’s over four months until the trip. If you get hired and start next week, you should have plenty of time to save up a decent amount,” Neil pointed out.

  God love him for looking on the bright side when all I wanted to do was sulk. He did have a valid point, though. Four months of tips could be substantial if I got hired quickly and worked often and hard.

  “You won’t mind me working there? I won’t cramp your style or anything?”

  He laughed and handed me half of a Hershey bar. “I didn’t realize I had a style to cramp. Nah, we’ll both be too busy to get on each other’s nerves.”

  We spent the rest of the lunch period stuffing our faces with junk food.

  When I got to school the following Monday morning, Britta walked up to me and thrust an envelope in my face. I barely had time to grab it before she spun around and left without saying a single word.

  Inside it sat a stack of twenty-dollar bills.

  I closed my eyes and willed back the tears, because while the cash would fill the hole in my bank account, it couldn’t plug the hole in my heart.

  17

  Ryan

  The basketball arced through the air and swished through the net.

  “Nice!” I yelled, high-fiving one of my teammates.

  Les formed a T with his hands to signal for a timeout, pulling the boys on his team into a huddle.

  My team did the same. “Okay, guys,” I shifted my gaze around the circle of flushed, sweaty young faces, “we’re only down by four now, thanks to Marcus. There’s plenty of time to score three times and win this game. Twice if Danny can hit another three-pointer. But if you see someone else wide open, pass him the ball. Hands in.”

  We all stuck out a hand and counted to three, breaking on a shout.

  Our shoes squeaked on the community center’s new basketball court. The building was in the midst of a major overhaul, courtesy of the Give Wright Back Foundation. Les had championed this effort, claiming he had spent many hours here after school and during summer breaks while his mother worked at the hospital. He wanted to turn the outdated facility into a place that appealed to today’s youth and kept them off the streets.

  Collette, the marketing whiz, had taken the plan to a whole other level by suggesting adult activities like cooking classes for singles and bingo tournaments for the elderly. She had argued that the center would thrive if it attracted people of all ages. No one disagreed with her logic, and the staff jumped at the chance to try a new approach.

  Les had volunteered to coach an inner-city basketball league team comprised of middle-school-aged boys. They practiced twice a week in the evenings and played actual games on Saturday mornings. Since Neil had no interest in participating in group sports, I was the next logical choice to be the assistant coach.

  I liked kids and didn’t mind the time commitment. I left the office at five on the nose and killed two birds with one stone, burning off work-related stress and getting a decent workout. As long as I deferred to Les and let him run the show, we didn’t have a problem. Consequently, the muttering and huffing whenever I entered a room had stopped. We were cordial and nodded at one another in greeting and farewell. I still felt no need to earn his stamp of approval, but it was nice to not feel as though I was in his crosshairs all the time.

  We resumed play and managed two more baskets, one of them a three-pointer from the lanky eighth grader who was almost as tall as me. When the final buzzer rang, my team had won by a single point.

  “Great teamwork out there,” I praised, fist-bumping everyone. “Show good sportsmanship and give your opponents a shake or a bump, just like we talked about. Pitch in and help clean up before you leave. See you Saturday morning.”

  Les tore open a box and yelled, “Look what showe
d up early!” The boys swarmed around him, eager to collect their bright blue team jerseys.

  “Heads up,” he said to me, tossing a ball of material.

  I shook it out and admired the blue polo shirt with Asst Coach McMillan embroidered on the upper left side. “Thanks. This is great.”

  “Yeah, I thought it made sense for us to wear something with the same color.”

  After we had finished cleaning up, a group of high schoolers rushed in to begin a pickup game. Les and I wound through the tarps and scaffolding in the hallways until we got to the main office.

  Collette looked up from her laptop and pulled out her earbuds. “You’re already finished? That was fast.”

  I sat on the corner of the desk and lifted a bud to my ear. “Renegades” by X Ambassadors came through when I pressed the play button. “I approve of your musical selection.” Curious about what other songs were on her phone, I scrolled through her downloads.

  “Oh, thank God. I was worried for a second there.” She wiped her brow and ducked when I threw the shirt at her. “Wow, this is really nice,” she said, holding it up against her chest. “Did the boys like them?”

  “Based on how they almost went all Lord of the Flies on each other to get one, I’d say yes.” Les set the box with the remaining shirts on the floor and sat on a folding chair.

  “This playlist of study songs is pretty…” I tapped a finger on my chin, “hmmm, what’s the word I’m looking for?”

  “What’s in it?” Les asked.

  I passed him the phone. “See for yourself. A particular song caught my eye and made me wonder if there’s any significance to its inclusion.”

  Collette closed her laptop and coiled the power cord. “Doubtful. I Googled study songs and added the ones I like the most.”

  “So that’s the only reason why “Hot for Teacher” is in here?” Les smirked, unaffected by the glare she shot him.

  “Gross. I think I just puked in my mouth a little. No hot young professor is giving me one-on-one tutoring sessions or personalized extra credit assignments.” She slid the machine in its bag and snatched back her phone. “I’m going home to check on Neil and see if he needs anything. I suggest you hit the showers.”