Jackie

Thousands of dollars worth of professional grade computer equipment plus all my clothes - all gone because I dozed off behind the wheel. Could things possibly get any worse?

Well, yes. Now I was riding on Cass's back in a blizzard, my feet stuffed into his coat pockets for warmth, with his hair tickling my cheek where my face rested against his neck.

Which smelled of cigarettes, alcohol, and...raw meat.

Yes, things have definitly gotten worse.

Did I pay the insurance on any of this stuff?

No! I had to cancel all my insurance so I could pay off Paolo's furniture bills after I lost my job.

Hey, I did pay the insurance on the U-Haul when I rented it a few days ago - maybe that would..?

Don't get your hopes up Jackie!

They'll rightly blame it on you and you'll have one more debt to pay off.

Get in line folks, get in line. I'll pay you back eventually. Just not all at once, 'k?

I think my purse was burned in the explosion when the truck blew up.

Maybe there's a convenience store that will let us hang around until this snow lets up and we can call for a tow?

Don't be stupid, after your last monumental screw-up, a guy with a shovel and a bucket would be more in order.

Cass was right, there is a town nearby.

With a motel.

Maybe they'd let us stay in the lobby?

Because I sure as hell can't pay them with a credit card that is now a melted lump in the bottom of my wreck.

I doubt Cass'll be much help. He's probably dead broke.

His kind usually are.

"'ere lass, I'm gonna let yeh down."

So, I drop to the snow, feet first and I let him lead me to a fleabag motel right off the exit ramp.

'Surprise. Surprise. Surprise,' as Gomer Pyle used to say.

He pays cash for a single from a wad big enough to choke a horse that's held together with a gold money clip that looks suspiciously like the one I gave to Paolo last year for Christmas.

I interrupt, "Two rooms, please." The old man behind the counter acts surprised but obeys. Cass looks sour behind his sunglasses, but I don't care.

I'll reimburse him one of these days. He'll just have to get in line behind everyone else I've borrowed from the last six months.

Standing in front of the door of my room, Cass wordlessly hands me a t-shirt to sleep in.

It has a Budweiser logo on it.

That's not even funny.

So I end my day around 5 a.m. by closing my door in Cass's face in some cheap motel; not boarding a jet for the Bahamas with Paolo.