“Well, between tuition and books and rent and food and…” I gnawed my lip, not having a clue about living expenses. “Probably about ten thou—We should round it up to an even fifteen and call it a night, right? Make it twenty. Twenty-five. But that’s it. Don’t get carried away on me, Kenneth.”

Kenneth smirked, but it held no humor. It was mocking. “Sure. Twenty-five thousand.”

He tapped away at his keyboard for a few minutes, no longer paying attention to me. I scanned his office, noting how the tidiness reflected this guy’s personality to a tee. He was probably a prude like my parents. His sex life was likely on a schedule too. Poor woman, but then again, she married Kenneth. I wondered if she knew about his secret basement room where he kept all the children? Did he park his scary, white, windowless van in their driveway?

“You have no credit.”

“Excuse me?” I whipped my head around, shaking away from the disturbing thoughts.

Kenneth deadpanned over his glasses. “You have no credit.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes. Between the zero on your tax assessment last year, your one-month, part-time employment, and lack of credit, I can tell you right now, you will not qualify for a loan without a cosigner.”

“A cosigner?”

“Like your parents, maybe?”

I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. Nothing he said was funny. “My parents won’t cosign a loan. They kicked me out. They’re why I’m here.”

Kenneth folded his hands on the desk in front of him, and his forced grin was all kinds of smug and condescending. “Then I’m afraid we can’t help you today, Mr. Charming.”

I slumped back in my seat. “Great. Fucking great. There isn’t anything I can do?”

“I’m afraid not.”

I rose and sneered across the desk at the self-righteous Kenneth. “Thank you for your time, Kenneth.” I enunciated his stupid name with disdain. “A piece of advice. Do your wife a favor. Shave the ’stache, and kill the caterpillar. I guarantee it will improve your sex life.” Then I scanned him and shook my head. “Or maybe not. You’re probably a lost cause. God, man, think of the children!”

It was all kinds of mature, but I didn’t care. Stupid Kenneth with his stupid eyebrow and stupid mustache could keep his stupid money.

It was all stupid.

I left the bank with a rotting gut, unsure what the fuck I was going to do now.

Chapter Two

I GOT HOME WITH enough time to change into my tacky gas station uniform—black slacks and a black-and-red polo shirt with the station’s logo on the breast pocket. It was fresh out of the dryer, but the nauseating smell of gasoline had permeated the fabric and wouldn’t wash out. It lingered in my nose each and every time I put it on.