I didn't sleep. I lay there all night with Kiki's "don't ask me how" going around in my head like a stuck song.
A fee means money, and money means something got sold, and I already knew I was going to hate whatever it was.
Kiki banged on my door at six with her hair still wet and that folder held up like a trophy.
Kiki: Fee's handled, baby. We're in.
Romy: Handled how?
Kiki: Two hundred bucks. Application fee, processing, whatever the fuck they want to call it.
Kiki: I got it. Don't look at me like that.
I was looking at her like that because I know every single thing she owns, and none of it is worth two hundred bucks.
Romy: Where.
Kiki: Just walk with me and stop asking questions in that mom voice.
She took my hand and pulled me out onto the county road, and her palm was sweating the whole way.
The pawn shop on the county road has a sign that buzzes and a window full of other people's bad luck.
She walked in there like it was a church and she had come to pray.
She reached into her jacket and set a little gold watch on the counter, and I swear my whole chest went cold.
It was her mother's watch. The one with the scratch on the face and the band that never fit right.
Romy: Kiki. No. That's your mom's.
Kiki: My mom's dead, Romy. Dead people don't need watches.
She said it flat, like she'd practiced it in the mirror, and her hand didn't shake once.
Kiki: She'd want me out of that motel. She hated Curt more than I do.
I wanted to argue. I wanted to grab that watch and run out the door with it.
But my mouth wouldn't work, because some rotten part of me wanted the money too.
The guy behind the glass gave her a hundred and eighty and didn't even look up.
Kiki: Close enough.
She folded the bills into her bra and smiled at me with her chin up, and I could have hit her.
Outside I hugged her so hard she made a little oof noise and dropped her folder.
Romy: You stupid, stubborn bitch.
Kiki: Yeah, yeah. I love you too.
Romy: So how do we even get there? Redgate's forty miles up the county road.
She got real quiet and started picking at her nail polish, and my stomach went down like an elevator.
Kiki: About that.
We walked back to the Mile End and I looked at the spot where her car used to sit, and the spot was empty.
Romy: Kiki. Where's your car?
Kiki: Sold it. Four hundred. Two bus tickets and a little left over.
I stood in that empty space with my hands on my head and my heart going like a fist on a locked door.
Romy: That car was your whole fucking life! You slept in that car when Curt threw you out!
Kiki: And now it's two bus tickets. Best trade I ever made.
I was crying and I was so mad about crying that I wiped my face with my sleeve and swore at the sky.
Romy: You can't keep selling yourself for me!
Kiki: Watch me.
Then Curt came out of the office with his coffee and his stained shirt, and his little mean eyes went straight to Kiki's chest like he could smell cash.
Curt: What's this? You two look like you won the fucking lottery.
Kiki: Just happy, Curt. Is that allowed?
Curt: Rent's up Friday. Both of you. And don't think I forgot you're late from last month, you little shit.
He peeled twenty out of her hand before she could even lie about it, and he smiled while he did it, slow and pleased.
Curt: Go on. Get to work.
We counted what was left on the folding table in the bleach smell, and it came to just enough, and I laughed because if I didn't laugh I was going to scream.
Kiki: Bus leaves Tuesday, six in the morning. We get on it, and we don't look back.
She put the tickets in my hand and closed my fingers around them, and they felt like a door swinging open.
A door with a lock I couldn't see yet. But God, it was the first thing I'd wanted in years.
Romy: Tuesday. Okay. Tuesday.