“Are you kidding me? No way. There is no way.” Her eyes darted across the paper, widening with every line. “Why is labor so expensive?”

“There’s a surcharge,” Manson said. “For having to deal with you.”

I grinned at the appalled expression on her face. This was even more fun than I’d thought it would be. She sputtered, and her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head.

“This isn’t fair,” she said. “This has to violate, like, a law or something. You can’t charge more for just one person!”

Lucas snapped the towel again. “Do you really want to start a discussion about breaking laws? Because we can have that conversation, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Jess closed her eyes for a moment, taking several long, deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, it was obvious she was forcing herself to remain calm. “Look, I can’t afford this.”

“Go to another shop, then,” Manson said simply. “There’s Autosphere downtown. Cheap work and cheap parts. They’re usually booked up for a few weeks, but it’s better than dealing with us, right?”

“Or ask Mommy and Daddy for help,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll fork out the cash.”

I could clearly remember when she’d shown up senior year with this car, still shiny and new, a birthday present from her parents. My parents had bought me a car too. But once they found out I was using it to “sodomize strangers” in the back seat, they’d sold it along with nearly every other gift they’d ever bought me.

It hadn’t had the effect on me they’d hoped for though. Sodomy didn’t require a car.

She glared at me. “I’m not a child, Jason. My parents don’t pay for everything.”

“Oh, well, excuse me,” I said. I leaned back and pulled out my phone, as if the entire thing didn’t interest me anymore. “You’ve never had a problem figuring out how to pay for shit, Jess. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

She’d figured out how to pay me years ago when I finally started demanding compensation for her cheating off my tests and harassing me into writing her essays. I still had the photos she’d sent me on my laptop, saved into an encrypted folder.

It was fucking shameful how many times I’d jacked off to them.

“How long will it take to fix the car?” she said. She actually sounded like she was trying to be reasonable.

Lucas shrugged. “How long will it take you to pay us?”

“I don’t have —” Her voice had gotten louder again. She stopped, paused, and lowered it. “I don’t have the money to pay you right now.”

“We also take alternative payment methods,” Manson said, and a grin spread over my face.