A Wedding to Remember: Switched at Marriage Part 1 by Gina Robinson Page B
Authors: Gina Robinson
Ads: Link
new card." She paused. "But first, you're going to have to make a payment. You're at your credit limit."
"Wait! What?" I tried to digest the news. "You mean I'm not going to be able to use my card?"
"Correct. Make a payment and we'll do our part." Her voice had that threatening—yet professionally distant and nearly bored—edge to it. "You should have your new card in the mail in ten to fourteen business days. Thanks for using our card and have a nice day."
"But—"
The microwave pinged. The credit card customer service rep hung up. Before I could call her back, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Carl, my building manager. "Kayla, there's a guy down here with a delivery for you."
I frowned. I hadn't ordered anything and Eric was too cheap to mail any stuff I'd inadvertently left with him back.
"Okay." I hedged, trying to avoid direct contact with Carl. "Thanks for the notice. Take it for me, will you? I'll be down for it later."
Carl's next words stopped me as I was halfway to hanging up. "This isn't a courtesy call. The guy won't give it to me."
Carl sounded nervous. Carl never sounded nervous. Nothing bothered him, except people who were late with their rent. And it was looking like I was going to be very late this month.
I couldn't ask my parents for the money. I was proving a point that, and damned if I was going to admit defeat. I could be independent and manage a budget just fine, thank you very much. I was not a ditzy, fashion-crazed blond, as they liked to think. Even graduating top in my class at the university didn't dispel their misperceptions. Because, you know, business degrees with double minors were easy to get. In four years. With no extra semesters. Why couldn't I get a real major? Say, engineering. Something scientific. Like my cousin Dex.
Carl's next words snapped me out of my thoughts. "He says he has to give it to you directly ."
I looked at the microwave. "My dinner's getting cold." Congealed instant mac was the worst. "You can't talk him into just leaving it with you?"
"He doesn't look like the kind of guy you just talk into anything."
Crap. I sighed. "All right. I'm coming. I'll be down in a minute."
I took the elevator to the lobby. Carl and this big guy in a suit were waiting for me. I saw immediately what Carl was talking about. The guy looked like an off-duty bouncer. Not the kind of guy you messed with.
Everything about him was bulging. He was even carrying a bulging legal-size envelope. He turned to Carl. "That her?"
Carl flashed me a look that said he was sorry and gave me up without a fight. "That's her. Kayla Lucas."
I froze. The big guy thrust the envelope into my hands before I could protest. "Kayla Lucas, you've been served."
As I opened my mouth to reply, the big guy turned and strode out the doors at what would have been a sprint for most people, but looked almost leisurely on him.
Now that the threat had walked out the door, Carl went suddenly protective on me. "What's this about?"
I frowned and my heart did a dive for my stomach. "I have no idea."
Carl nodded, looking like he didn't believe me. "If it's about money, I'll cover for you about the rent, Kayla. I can stall the owners for a couple of days. You get paid in a few, right?"
I nodded. I wasn't lying about getting paid, but the reality was my next paycheck was so small it came nowhere near covering what I owed.
"Okay, then." Carl patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. "Let me know if I can help." That was as effusive as Carl got. He was a nice guy, protective of the building's occupants, but mostly unemotional. He cleared his throat and went back to his office.
I took the legal-looking envelope back to my apartment. Why would anyone be serving me for anything? I was basically your law-abiding good girl. I hadn't even had a parking ticket since college. I was totally stumped. I plopped onto my couch.
What if that credit card identity thief in Reno had swindled a casino or something in my name? My fingers shook as
"Wait! What?" I tried to digest the news. "You mean I'm not going to be able to use my card?"
"Correct. Make a payment and we'll do our part." Her voice had that threatening—yet professionally distant and nearly bored—edge to it. "You should have your new card in the mail in ten to fourteen business days. Thanks for using our card and have a nice day."
"But—"
The microwave pinged. The credit card customer service rep hung up. Before I could call her back, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Carl, my building manager. "Kayla, there's a guy down here with a delivery for you."
I frowned. I hadn't ordered anything and Eric was too cheap to mail any stuff I'd inadvertently left with him back.
"Okay." I hedged, trying to avoid direct contact with Carl. "Thanks for the notice. Take it for me, will you? I'll be down for it later."
Carl's next words stopped me as I was halfway to hanging up. "This isn't a courtesy call. The guy won't give it to me."
Carl sounded nervous. Carl never sounded nervous. Nothing bothered him, except people who were late with their rent. And it was looking like I was going to be very late this month.
I couldn't ask my parents for the money. I was proving a point that, and damned if I was going to admit defeat. I could be independent and manage a budget just fine, thank you very much. I was not a ditzy, fashion-crazed blond, as they liked to think. Even graduating top in my class at the university didn't dispel their misperceptions. Because, you know, business degrees with double minors were easy to get. In four years. With no extra semesters. Why couldn't I get a real major? Say, engineering. Something scientific. Like my cousin Dex.
Carl's next words snapped me out of my thoughts. "He says he has to give it to you directly ."
I looked at the microwave. "My dinner's getting cold." Congealed instant mac was the worst. "You can't talk him into just leaving it with you?"
"He doesn't look like the kind of guy you just talk into anything."
Crap. I sighed. "All right. I'm coming. I'll be down in a minute."
I took the elevator to the lobby. Carl and this big guy in a suit were waiting for me. I saw immediately what Carl was talking about. The guy looked like an off-duty bouncer. Not the kind of guy you messed with.
Everything about him was bulging. He was even carrying a bulging legal-size envelope. He turned to Carl. "That her?"
Carl flashed me a look that said he was sorry and gave me up without a fight. "That's her. Kayla Lucas."
I froze. The big guy thrust the envelope into my hands before I could protest. "Kayla Lucas, you've been served."
As I opened my mouth to reply, the big guy turned and strode out the doors at what would have been a sprint for most people, but looked almost leisurely on him.
Now that the threat had walked out the door, Carl went suddenly protective on me. "What's this about?"
I frowned and my heart did a dive for my stomach. "I have no idea."
Carl nodded, looking like he didn't believe me. "If it's about money, I'll cover for you about the rent, Kayla. I can stall the owners for a couple of days. You get paid in a few, right?"
I nodded. I wasn't lying about getting paid, but the reality was my next paycheck was so small it came nowhere near covering what I owed.
"Okay, then." Carl patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. "Let me know if I can help." That was as effusive as Carl got. He was a nice guy, protective of the building's occupants, but mostly unemotional. He cleared his throat and went back to his office.
I took the legal-looking envelope back to my apartment. Why would anyone be serving me for anything? I was basically your law-abiding good girl. I hadn't even had a parking ticket since college. I was totally stumped. I plopped onto my couch.
What if that credit card identity thief in Reno had swindled a casino or something in my name? My fingers shook as
Similar Books
