Chapter 3

Forty thousand dollars.

I was still short thirty-nine thousand.

In my past life, I couldn't get it together before it was too late.

In this life...

Across the alley, Brenda was sitting on a stool happily counting a fat stack of cash.

Suddenly, she glanced over at me.

"Hey, Lauren! Come over here a second. Let me talk to you about something."

I walked over.

She leaned in, dropping her voice to a low murmur.

"Look, I over-ordered on meat this week. A bunch of it is going to spoil if I don't move it fast."

"How about you help me cook it off at your cart?"

"Cook it how?"

"Well..."

She glanced around shiftily. "It smells a tiny bit off, but if you drop it in the deep fryer with a heavy coat of Cajun spice, nobody will ever taste it."

"I'll give you thirty bucks a day. What do you say?"

She gave me a greasy smile.

"You're just sitting over there doing nothing anyway. Help an old lady out, yeah?"

Looking at her smirking face, I turned her down flat.

"I only sell loaded fries. I don't know how to cook meat, so you should find someone else."

The smile froze right off Brenda’s face.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I can't help you."

"Take that meat to someone else."

"You ungrateful little bitch."

Her tone instantly dropped below freezing, the wrinkles around her eyes sharpening like daggers.

I went back to washing my potatoes, completely ignoring her.

"Who the hell do you think you are, putting on airs over a bucket of potatoes?"

She stalked closer, hissing, "You think you're special? Everyone on this block answers to me!"

"You're totally right, Brenda. I'm just a girl selling fries."

"Fine. You want to play hardball?"

She spun on her heel, her apron ties whipping behind her with a sharp snap.

I paid her no mind.

My phone vibrated a few times.

I didn't bother checking it.

By five o'clock, classes let out, and waves of hungry students flooded the street.

Still, nobody came near my cart.

Suddenly, Fatty came sprinting down the sidewalk clutching his phone, looking absolutely giddy.

"Holy shit, guys, did you check the campus confession page on Twitter?"

A small crowd swarmed around him.

"'Greedy Single Mom Tries to Extort 60-Year-Old Vendor'..."

"Wait, Lauren tried to shake Auntie Brenda down for cash and threatened to smash her cart?"

"Are you serious? That's sickening!"

My hands paused over the cutting board.

I pulled out my phone and opened the local campus board.

The top pinned post was anonymous:

"Local French fry vendor, insanely jealous of the sweet turkey leg lady's booming business, first spread lies that she was using fake meat, and now she’s trying to extort cash from her!”

“Brenda is sixty years old, working her fingers to the bone, and this bully is trying to shake her down. Does this woman have a soul?"

Attached was a photo of me standing by Brenda’s cart earlier.

The angle was malicious. It captured my deadpan face, making it look like I was aggressively towering over the old woman.

The comment section was an absolute dumpster fire.

"No wonder she's dead broke, what a garbage human being."

"Doesn't her kid have heart failure or something? Karma's a bitch."

"Yo, that's messed up, leave the sick kid out of it."

"Why should we? With a mom like that, the kid's probably a menace anyway."

I took a slow breath, locked my phone, and put it away.

Then I went back to slicing potatoes.

"That's her!"

Fatty came charging straight toward my stall with two other frat-looking guys.

I looked up.

Three college kids, one of them carrying a five-gallon bucket of filthy mop water.

"Who the hell do you think you are, extorting an old lady?"

"She's sixty! Have you got any shame?"

I stayed completely silent.

"Get the fuck off our campus block!"

The bucket swung forward.

A tidal wave of foul, dirty water hit me dead on.

It drenched me from head to toe.

Greasy, foul-smelling liquid dripped from my hair. My clothes were soaked through, and the sharp sting of cheap chili oil burned in my nose.

Students all along the street stopped and stared.

Some were filming on their phones. Others started laughing and cheering.

"She had it coming!"

"Pack your trash and get out!"

I wiped the greasy water from my eyelashes.

And then, I smiled.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking straight at the guy holding the empty bucket.

"I'll be more careful. I won't bother you guys anymore."

The guy froze, completely thrown off that I was actually apologizing.

"Y-You... stop acting!"

"Yeah, cut the fake innocence, freak!"

I didn't say another word. I just knelt down on the wet pavement, picking up the spilled raw potato wedges that had been ruined by the dirty water.

Completely contaminated. Unsellable.

I raised my gaze toward Brenda’s cart across the alley.

She was standing there with her phone raised high, recording me.

When she saw me look up, a wicked smirk crossed her face, and she slipped the phone back into her pocket.