Chapter 31: The Confrontation
257 words
It was raining. Of course it was raining. The weather always seemed to punctuate the miserable turns of Preston’s life lately.
I pulled my car—my new, safe, reliable car—up to the mansion gates. He was waiting there. He looked like a wet stray dog, shivering in a jacket that was two sizes too big. He must have recognized the plates.
He rushed the window as I rolled it down an inch.
"Sarah," he gasped. "Sarah, please. I just need a loan. A personal loan agreement. I can sign whatever you want. I have a lead on a start-up, I just need seed money."
His eyes were frantic. He wasn't asking for mental health help, which is what he clearly needed. He was asking for fuel for a delusional fire.
"I don't lend money, Preston," I said, my voice steady.
"I'm starving!" he yelled, banging on the glass. "I have nowhere to go! You stole my life!"
"I took back the value of the life you tried to crush," I corrected him.
I reached into my console. I didn't pull out a checkbook. I pulled out a plastic card. I cracked the window a sliver more and slid it through.
"It's a bus pass," I said. "Loaded with fifty dollars. Use it to get to the shelter downtown. The begging laws in this district are strict, and the police are already on their way."
I rolled the window up and drove through the gates, leaving him standing in the rain holding the plastic card.
End of Chapter 31
