At Any Price

“I’m sorry you had to come all the way up here from Newport,” I said as a means to change the subject, lest he get an idea in his head to pound down Jon’s door and finish the job.

“I was just in Irvine.”

“It’s after nine. Why am I not surprised that you were still at work?”

He helped me to the car. “You okay? You feel sick?”

“No. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Because if you puke on my interior, I’m gonna make you clean it with a Q-tip.”

I snorted.

“You need me to grab anything out of your car?”

“Yes. My backpack and my books, please? I’m so behind on my studying.” I handed him my keys so he could lock up my car.

Inside his car, I fell back against the headrest, grateful that the top was down and I could swallow gulps of fresh night air. It helped stave off the nausea.

“You haven’t retaken this test yet?” he muttered when he set the books on the floor beside my feet. “If you keep putting it off you’ll never get it done.” I shot him a sharp glance, wondering how he knew that the MCAT was a retake for me. No one knew that besides my inner circle—not even my mom! Had Heath let it slip? I let my head loll back against the headrest, my thoughts swimming. I vowed to rip Heath a new one for that slip the next time I saw him.

Adam was quiet the entire way home. We listened to Alison Moyet of Yaz begging her lover not to walk away from love. I suddenly felt a wave of melancholy wash over me as the golden lights of Orange’s antique streetlamps passed us by. I didn’t like to be saved. I usually saved myself, but here I was, letting Adam swoop in and take care of things. And the worst part? I found myself enjoying it.

When he parked, the thunderous booms of the nightly Disneyland fireworks sounded in the distance, heralding the time as shortly after nine-thirty. Adam helped me out of the car, taking my bag and things in his other hand. “I can walk by myself just fine.”

He guided me up the steps nevertheless and when we got into the apartment, the first thing I saw was the clock—almost ten, and I had to be at work at midnight.

I sighed and sat down, putting my head in my hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I have work in two hours.”

“You can’t go.”

“I’ll make some coffee. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not going. Call in sick.”

I shook my head. “I can’t blow off a shift—I need the money.”

He walked over to my phone and picked it up, flipping through my list of important numbers. It wasn’t hard to find—it was labeled “work,” after all. He dialed the number without another word. “Yes, hello, this is Adam Drake, a friend of Mia’s. I wanted to let you know that she isn’t feeling well this evening and can’t make her shift. Yes. Yes I will. Thank you.”

He hung up and turned to me. “See? Simple.”

“I’m sure you call in sick to your work without going into withdrawal convulsions.”

He shrugged. “That’s a little different.”

I rubbed my temples. My head was really starting to throb. “Yeah, easy for you to say with your fat bank account.”

“If everything went through like it should have, your bank account is quite a bit weightier, too.”

I looked up at him though it hurt my eyeballs to do it. “You sent me money?”

“I told you I would.”

I frowned. “But I haven’t even—we haven’t even.”

“I said I never go back on my agreements. Now—where’s your coffee?”

I thought for a moment. “Oh, crap, I used the last of it on Friday and never bought any more.”

“Water, then? And aspirin? Or you’re going to feel like shit.”

“When did you become the expert on hangovers? I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I’ve had a hangover or two in my life. Not fun.”

I put my hands to my eyes, my mind jumping to the subject it had been stuck on since my argument with Heath the day before. “Adam, are you using me?”

He had my cupboard doors open, peering in with narrowed eyes, clearly disapproving of what he saw—which was probably old packets of rice mix and a herd of dust bunnies, if memory served me correctly. And with this much wine addling my brain, I doubted that it would serve me correctly.

“Using you? What do you mean?”

“Heath said you are manipulating me. He thinks you’re putting this whole thing off on purpose.”