Little Secrets(32)

Chapter 10


McKenzie Li’s credit card isn’t working. Again. Embarrassed, she glances over her shoulder. Derek is seated in a booth, catching up on emails on his iPhone, and he doesn’t sense her looking. He never senses her looking. They’re not in sync that way.

“Try it again.” Kenzie turns back to the counter, working hard to keep the urgency out of her voice. It was her idea to come here, to let him know that she’s not high-maintenance. She wanted to remind him what it is about her that he was attracted to in the first place. However, she can’t bring herself to go back to the table without their food. She can’t tell him she doesn’t have any money. Usually when she goes to order, he hands her some cash before she can think about it. But he’s distracted tonight, and she can never bring herself to ask. He has to offer.

The McDonald’s cashier, who can’t be more than fifteen, gives her a dubious look under his visor. He runs her Visa again, and once again the screen reads Transaction Not Approved. “Sorry, ma’am. Declined. Do you have another one I can try?”

First of all, he can shove it up his ass that she’s a ma’am. She’s only twenty-four, for fuck’s sake. Second, no, she does not. All her other credit cards are maxed out, and this is the second of the two she thought might work, the one with the low limit and high interest rate that she applied for only a month ago. She can’t have used it that much, but maybe she has. She’d probably have a better idea if she’d bothered to open the first statement, which is still sitting on the kitchen counter on top of all the other bills she hasn’t opened yet.

The lady behind her with the two hyperactive grandkids sighs with impatience, tapping one foot on the tiled floor as she snaps at them to stay still or you’re going back to your father’s. This might be less mortifying if the McDonald’s they were in was busier, had more noise, more cashiers, more customers. Kenzie is hyperaware of the annoyed judgment of the high school kid taking her order, who probably has more money in his pocket than she does in her bank account right now.

Derek once said to her that growing up poor made him who he is. How great for him. Being poor sucks for her, and she knows that pursuing a master’s degree in fine arts isn’t exactly going to change that prospect once she graduates. Sure, she’d like to be the kind of person who doesn’t care about money, like so many of her artist friends. But when you’re drowning in student loans and credit card debt, and your mother has early-onset Alzheimer’s and is in a care facility that isn’t even the most expensive but is still really fucking expensive, money is the difference between McDonald’s and dollar-store instant ramen. Because yes, there are levels lower than fast food.

She fishes through her wallet, hoping that the extra twenty-dollar bill she keeps for emergencies is still stashed in the slot where she hides it. She can’t remember if she used it or not. She doesn’t know if a credit card being declined in a McDonald’s qualifies as an official emergency, but this sure as shit feels like it. Her grandmother always taught her to keep a bit of cash in her purse, because sometimes credit cards don’t work, and sometimes there’s no ATM nearby. Grand-mère had been right, and Kenzie suddenly misses her, making it hard to take a deep breath.

Oh grief, you sly bastard.

She finds the twenty, folded between an old Sears card and her Sephora VIB card, neither of which she uses anymore because the first one went out of business and the second one she can’t afford. The McDonald’s order is $14.68. She contemplates changing her grilled chicken combo to two hamburgers from the Dollar Menu. But the lady behind her sighs again, and Kenzie is forced to accept that she’s too embarrassed to say anything. She unfolds the twenty and hands it to the cashier. He hands her back a five and some coins. She stuffs the change into her wallet and tries not to think about the fact that this is all the money she has left for the week.

Derek doesn’t look up when she returns with their food; he’s consumed with his phone. He’s consumed with his phone for work the way she’s consumed with her phone for everything nonwork, and he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s typing, so she doesn’t say anything. Before she sits down, she tries to peek at what he’s looking at. But this, of course, he senses, and he tilts his phone away so Kenzie can’t see the screen.

She hates when he does that. It reminds her that he has secrets. She should know. She’s one of them.

She unwraps her grilled chicken burger and takes a bite, keeping herself occupied with Instagram while he continues to act like she’s not here. She posted a pic while they were driving to the hotel with her feet up on the dashboard, managed to snap it right before he told her not to put her feet up on the dashboard. Even though she’d taken her shoes off, she knew it would annoy him. She knows him better than he gives her credit for. And he’d probably hate it if he knew that he sometimes shows up on her Instagram, even though there’s no actual name or face or any identifying characteristics. But what does it matter if he’s not on social and never sees it, anyway?

Absently, he reaches for a fry. He doesn’t say thank you for the food, and while he doesn’t need to—God knows he’ll pay for everything else—Derek dropping a hundred bucks on dinner is nothing. Kenzie spending almost fifteen dollars on McDonald’s has wiped her out until payday. Besides, she can’t remember the last time he made a point to be polite to her. She remembers thinking when they first met that he had the best manners. He was such a gentleman.