The woman in front of me stabs a stubby finger into the glass, gearing up for another argument, and my body goes electric. I tell Mom I love her but I have to go.

“Jesus Christ, lady, come on,” I say, clutching the phone in a fist. “Just pay the fee and move on, will you? You’re not the only person here with business to do.”

“Yeah,” the person behind me says. Another voice farther back, deep and male, grunts in approval.

The woman takes it from the top, punctuating her argument with a finger stabbing at the glass, but I am no longer listening. Her voice bleeds away with a slicing pain in my side. A heart attack? My lungs’ last gasp for air? I press the spot hard with the heel of my palm and fan the credit cards in my other hand, comforting myself with the math. Three Mastercards and one Visa for a total of $26,000 in cash advances, plus a platinum Amex with a $10,000 line. That’s just over $35,000 in advances I can walk out of here with today, assuming this woman gets the hell out of my way. I eye the way she’s sprawled against the countertop, the hot breath of her tirade fogging up the glass, and my heart punches a hard, frantic beat. This woman is going nowhere.

Stay and wait this out, or come up with a plan B? After all, the $35,000 is a drop in the ransom bucket. It’s not going to get me anywhere close to the $734,296 I need to save Jade and the kids. It won’t make even the tiniest dent.

Especially if Ed doesn’t pull through.

I scroll through my phone, checking the call log and emails inbox, swiping through my messages. Still no word. I pull up Ed’s contact card and fire off a text: Status?

I stare at the screen and wait for a response. Tiny letters under the blue bubble tag the text as delivered. But there are no dancing dots, nothing to indicate he’s even seen it.

I check the time—4:44—and try not to scream.

There’s movement in my periphery, and my head pops up to spot the second teller slinking back into view. He stops at the first window, nodding at what I’m guessing are marching orders, his squinty gaze pinned at the woman holding up the line. He sighs and checks his watch, and I roll my eyes.

Dude, we know.

Just please, for the love of all that is holy. Hurry it up already.

He sinks onto the stool at the second window, and I’m already there, spilling my cards into the stainless steel feeder before he’s removed the Next Window Please sign. “I need the max cash advance on these five cards.”

He picks up the cards and arranges them in a neat line on his side of the glass.