When the stranger on the other end announces the reason for his call, I freeze.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to pay that today,” I admit to the debt collector who’s being unusually pushy and rude.
“This needs to be paid immediately, ma’am. The late fees will continue to accumulate until the debt is picked up by a third party.”
“It’s not even my card. It was my ex-husband’s.” I keep my voice low in case Jude is nearby.
“Miss Merlini, your name is on the credit card. If you wish to dispute the charges, I can put in a request, but that’s going to take time, and the fees will continue to pile up during that period.”
Anxiety snakes through my belly. I drop back in my kitchen chair, chewing on my thumbnail in frustration.
Dammit, Kirk.
It’s just like him to dump his shit on me. He was never very good at managing his finances, and all this time later, I’m still left sorting out any shared expenses. I’ve discovered more than one credit card that he opened in my name without my knowledge.
This card is a big one. He used my flawless credit to acquire a high-level limit. Kirk racked up the debt, and clearly fell behind on the payments.
This card includes extravagant trips and purchases. Trips and purchases I did not partake of in any way. The thought of funding my ex-husband’s adultery sickens me.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I cannot pay this today,” I speak into the receiver, my frustration growing. “Isn’t there some type of payment plan to catch back up?”
“I’m afraid not. This bill is scheduled for third-party collection next month. Once that happens, it will be reflected on your credit.”
I have zero desire to pay this outrageous bill, but blemishing my stellar credit history seems like the greater evil in this situation.
When will I ever get ahead? I take one step forward and then two steps back.
In my head, I’m quickly totalling the money I’m earning from the room rental and the pittance of income I’m bringing in from my new business ventures. I’m doing the math, determining which bills I can put off so I can focus on this one. I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off, but I need a little more time to figure it out.
I sigh into the phone. “I have a month, right? Maybe I can—”
“No,” a deep, familiar voice speaks over the phone line. “I’ll pay it. I’ll pay the debt.”
11
Jude
The end credits are running on the Bourne movie I was watching. I’d been trying to stay awake until dinner is ready because whatever my roomie is cooking tonight smells amazing. But my eyelids are just too heavy.
As I’m drifting off into a light, restless sleep, the phone on the nightstand rings.
Who the hell has a landline anymore? I don’t think I’ve seen one of these in nearly ten years.
I absently pick up the obnoxiously loud phone in my tired haze, but before I can say a word, I hear someone with a high, nasally voice threatening Iris. Suddenly alert, I quickly realize that this is some debt collector, demanding a shit ton of money.
I sit up in bed, my attention now completely redirected, and continue to eavesdrop on the private conversation. Each time the asshole talks, my aggression inches up a notch. My fingers curl into my palms, and my breathing speeds up. I should really try and find the mute button to ensure they can’t hear my anger through the line.
I feel my heart rate picking up. I feel the urge to smash something or someone.
It’s becoming abundantly clear that Kirk left his wife in a compromising legal situation and with no money to cover his ass. What kind of man does that shit? He may not have hacked it in professional sports, but as far as I know, Kirk finished school, found a respectable career as a college professor, and earns a decent salary. Decent enough to cover his own damn monthly credit card payments.
"No. I'll pay it...I'll pay the debt." I have no control over the words that spill from my mouth. It's like I'm just relaying an incoming message from my subconscious mind. A message that yells to me that this shit isn’t right!
I have the means to fix it, so apparently, that’s precisely what I’m going to do.
So much for silently eavesdropping.
Iris splutters out in surprise, on the other end of the receiver.“W-what?!”
Maybe she didn’t hear what I told the persistent money-hungry douche on the line. “I will pay for it.”
“No, you most definitely will not.”
“Well...somebody's going to pay,” the assclown collector butts in.
“That'll be me,” I answer, with authority, ready to end this argument. I’m doing this, and she’s not going to stop me. I’m ashamed to call Kirk my friend at the moment. This is my way of fixing his asinine mistake. “What information do you need from me?”
“Stop, Jude,” Iris pleads. “I don't need you to—”
I ignore her refusals and carry forward, rattling off my identification information to the slightly amused debt collector. I hear Iris make an exasperated sound through the phone before breaking my eardrum by slamming down her receiver. Her small but angry footsteps sound on the stairs. I speak faster, answering the man’s questions.
I’m still on the call when Iris bursts into my room. She looks a little crazed right now. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she shrieks at me as she dives across the bed for the phone.
Startled, I roll across the mattress, barely avoiding her crash-landing.
What the hell?!
I had no idea doing her a favor would send her into such a frenzied state. “I’m helping you, dammit. How about a ‘thank you’?” What is with this impossible woman?
“Sir, is everything okay?” the man on the phone asks, his concern rising.
My feet hit the
