“We don’t have money”
[Chapter 1]
The 7-11 was desolate from the outside.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else," Dave said, circling the scene. The four of them were on a backroad, somewhere remote enough that no one bothered to re-blacktop the roads, rendering it something of a "dustbowl". Nine out of twelve pumps were restrained with yellow tape. "It feels criminal to pump gas here."
"Where?" Dania demanded. "The next one isn't for, like, another 30 minutes."
"Better than being skimmed." Kennedy hugged her purse as though someone was going to jump her from within the Honda civic. "I mean, we have enough gas to get there."
"Yeah, well, I still have to pee."
"Yeah, okay," Kennedy conceded, as her brother Lucas parked right in front. Upon pulling around, it was apparent someone was indeed in the vicinity—a lone rust-colored pickup truck with peeling paint sat around the side. Dania immediately began rattling the door handle. "Hold on," Lucas said.
Dania's eyes rose to the heavens. "What do you have to child-lock the doors for?"
"As long as I decide to keep my kidnapper side-gig. College ain't cheap, you know."
Dania laughed, popping the door open. "It is if you're smart enough to get Bright Futures." The door slammed.
"We could drive away without her," Lucas observed.
"When can we get back on 95?" Dave asked. "I'm tired of looking at cows and falling in potholes."
"You'd rather be sitting in traffic?" The highway had been jammed, likely with another one of those spectacular four-car pile-ups. Better yet, Lucas mused, one of those sedans pulling a speed-up-and-cut-in-front-of-a-semi maneuvers Floridians enjoyed toying with, to their own fatal expense.
"Yeah, maybe."
Kennedy opened the rear door. "You know what, I'm gonna go too. Who knows when we'll get another chance."
"Knock yourself out," Lucas muttered, knocking back a box of tic-tacs.
"Wha'ddya in such a hurry for, anyway?"
"I dunno. I just don't like gas stations."
Dave snorted. "Uh-huh. You mean abandoned ones with trucks tucked away like you're about to be robbed blind..."
A tapping at the window makes Lucas start. Dave laughed. "You chicken."
A woman's flat face, medium-long black strands crowding her face, peered into the window. She appeared to be older, in her late 30s or early 40s. Her fretful expression reminded Lucas of his mother.
Lucas swore under his breath and rolled the window down a notch.
"Excuse me," she said, pushing her face even further into the space. Noticing Lucas draw his own backward, she pulled back, slightly. "I'm in a bit of a situation and I could use some help."
"Yeah, yeah, of course. What can we do?" Dave said, his voice raising slightly. Lucas shoots him a glance, then defaults back to the woman.
"My name is Sylvia Richardson." She pauses, as though this was important. "I need help...with my kids. My husband is abusive. I need help getting away from him."
"Um..."
"I know this is weird to ask, but could you call him? Pretend your my lawyer. I don't have enough money to pay for one, but I think he'll back off if he thinks I have representation."
Lucas hears a slight rumbling behind them, but Dave is fixated on Sylvia. A roughed up black SUV makes its way toward the back of the store.
"Yeah, yeah, y'know it's funny, I'm actually training to be a lawyer. I mean, I'm in undergraduate still, but that's my major."
Lucas smirks. "You don't know anything about law. You're a sophomore."
"I've taken a few courses."
"Like what, Intro to Law, 101B?"
"No..."
Lucas turns to Sylvia. "All he knows how to do is con his way through courses with chat GPT and Chegg."
Sylvia's stressed face becomes even more distressed. "That's okay..."
"It's a simple request, Lucas."
"Yes," Sylvia agrees, "It will only take a moment. I'll pay you for the time."
"How much?" Dave asked.
"Fifty bucks."
Dave's hand shoots across Lucas. "Give me the phone. I'll do it."
"We have to use your phone. It's more realistic," Sylvia insisted.
Lucas attempted to swat away his hand, but Dave was already passing off the phone. She passed it back to him after a moment.
For all his bravato, Dave hesitated. "So, I'm your lawyer...this is your husband...soon to be ex-husband. Anything else I should know?
"Two kids, Donald and Rhonda. And I'm suing for custody."
"Okay, okay." He looked a bit more worried now. Lucas shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The sound of ringing was amplified by the silence.
"Hello?" A gruff voice asked. "Sylvia?"
Dave glanced at Sylvia's eager face and she waved him on. "Um, yeah, hey there."
"Who is this?"
"Hey, yeah, this is Sylvia's lawyer. She's suing you for kid custody. I mean, the custody of her kids."
"What the..." Some incoherent mumbling ensued. Then, "What is this, a kid?"
"Yeah, um no, I'm an adult. I'm your wife's lawyer. She wants the kids. And a divorce. She wants—" Dave looks at Sylvia, who looked more concerned than ever, "Donald and Rhonda."
The voice muffled a curse like a badly stifled sneeze. "Yeah, okay. Can you put Sylvia on the phone?"
"No, she's not speaking with you right now. She has representation and she's going to use it. Against you."
There was silence on the end of the line.
"Yeah. So you better leave her alone, buddy, or the law is going to come onto you big time."
Some less concealed swearing penetrated the line.
"You better be scared. You're not going to get away with this. You're done for—"
"Is Sylvia with you?"
Dave looked over to Sylvia again, who nodded slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, she's with me."
"Give her the phone. I need to speak with her. Privately."
"Nah, buddy, you're done playing these—"
"HAND OVER THE PHONE, DAMMIT."
Dave quickly passed off the phone. Sylvia took it off speaker and pressed it to her ear.
"Hi...Frank. I—" A flash of irritation swept across her face. "Yeah, I did the best I could. Given the circumstances."
Lucas and Dave strained their ears to make words out of the yelling, unsuccessfully. "I think I made it worse," Dave whispered.
"You think?" Lucas shot back.
Sylvia's gaze turned back in their direction, suddenly remembering their presence. "Yeah, I'm sorry Frank, but I can't go on like this. Donnie and Ronnie deserve better. And so do I." She hung up before Frank could ramp up again. "Thanks, guys, you were wonderful. I really appreciate it."
Dave beamed. "Yeah, well, it was nothing. Absolutely nothing at all."
"No shit," Lucas muttered.
Dave glared at him.
Sylvia waved dismissively. "No, really, you don't even know how helpful that was. I have to get going, pick up Rhonda and Donald, but thank you. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
"Nope, don't worry about it."
Suddenly, a noise reminiscent of a shot firing sounded.
"What was that?!" Lucas cried.
Sylvia frowned and looked pointedly to her car. "I think that was my car."
Dave nodded, but Lucas looked dubious. "That didn't sound like a car."
"No, no," Sylvia said dismissively, "My car's been making some strange noises. I've got to get it checked out."
"Yeah, um, okay," Lucas said, still frowning.
"Thank you again, boys," Sylvia said. She gave a tight wave and a tighter wave as she backed away, and then disappeared. As she gassed up in a red Chevy Lucas rolled the window up, as Dave was uncharacteristically contemplative.
After a moment, Lucas said, "Is it just me or are those some old ass names for some kids?"
"Yeah," Dave agreed, "Maybe that's why she wants a divorce."
Lucas and Dave turned to see a red Chevy pull away with Sylvia at the wheel.
"I didn't notice her pull in. Did you?"
Dave ignored the question, swearing under his breath.
"That old bat never gave me my fifty bucks," he said.
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For a car full of undergraduates, the ride became strangely quiet after leaving the 7-11. Kennedy and Dania rotated between glancing at each other, the boys, and then back out the grubby windows. Lucas stared ahead, while Dave tapped vigorously at his phone, prompting it to chirp incessantly.
"What's your score?" Kennedy asked.
"Almost 700."
"Almost beating my low," she remarked.
"Yeah, well, you started playing before me. I'll catch up."
"By like a week," Lucas said, putting his two cents in.
"Shut up," Dave muttered. "At least I help people."
"What?" Dania said, her head snapping toward them.
"We saw someone at the car, talking to you guys,"Kennedy said slowly. "What was that about?"
Lucas and Dave swapped a look. Before Dave could concoct some cockamamie story, Lucas said, "She had a favor to ask."
"A favor?"
"Directions. She wanted directions."
Kennedy raised an eyebrow, but didn't question this. "Well, you could've just said that."
A short sad "womp, womp" sounded. "Shit," Dave muttered, putting his phone away.
Kennedy blurted out. "You aren't going to ask what took us so long?" Dania scowled in her direction.
Lucas frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah it was kind of long. Really long. Was there a line or something?"
"N—"
"Probably saw some hottie," Dave smirked.
"There was a line," Dania said.
Lucas thought for a moment. "But nobody was in the parking lot."
"It was the guy behind the desk," Dania explained. "One bathroom. Sounded like he was vomiting or something."
"Wow," Dave said, scrunching up his face in disgust. "That's gross." Neither Dave or Lucas asked for further details.
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"What they don't know won't kill them," Dania assures me, inspecting a freshly manicured fingernail. "Guys don't overthink like we do."
"That's so sexist," I complain. "Guys think all the time."
Dania drags her eyeballs up dramatically, like they're weighted. Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I "don't think". "Yeah, right. Name one instance."
I did struggle a bit with that one. The only guys I really know are Dave and Lucas.
"I thought so," she says, reverting her attention back to painting. "Anyways, I said overthink, not think."
"OK," I concede, still thinking her unfair.
In truth, I hadn't felt the same since that morning at the 7-11. But Dania didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want to pry. It had freaked both of us, but I suspect it bothered Dania even more than me.
"To be fair," I venture, unable to completely abandon ship, "Lucas did deduce that our story was implausible. That takes some thought."
Dania drops her hand, purses her lips. "That's called paying attention, Kennedy, not 'thinking'. It's a basic human function. Anyways, my point was that Lucas, nevermind Dave, aren't going to ask us about what happened. So why would we mention it to them?"
"I dunno," I say, feeling dumber than usual.
"Exactly."
"But don't you think it's weird that they haven't brought it up?"
Dania's lips became even tighter, her eyes rolling upwards again.
"What about that woman? Don't you think that was strange?"
"I didn't see any woman, so no."
"I did," I insist. "And don't say I imagined it because I absolutely did not. You can't argue that it's strange that Dave and Lucas didn't want to tell us what they were talking about."
Dania looks a little worried by that. I can tell because she tried to look concentrated on her nails, but they were in the dry stage, not the paint stage. "The woman wanted directions. There's nothing odd about that."
"Dave wanted to say something else before Lucas cut him off. You know Dave can't keep a secret. He is such a blabbermouth They're hiding something, Dania. They did something and I don't know what, but whatever it is, they don't want to tell us."
Dania continues inspecting her nails, her brows pinched.
"Dania. We can't hide from this. We should confront them," I persist.
She looks up shyly, her hard mask falling away. "Yeah, okay," she said. "But not now."
"Okay, fine." I sigh. "Let's wait a bit."
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As Dania shut herself in the restroom, Kennedy pushed through the door. It was one of those resistant ones you had to bulldoze, full weight into, to open.
Gas stations aren't known for being hubs of activity, especially not at six-going-on-seven in the morning, but there was a certain stillness that was unsettling. After a moment, Kennedy realized why that was.
There didn't seem to be a cashier anywhere in the store.
A tour around the shelves proved this to be true. Kennedy wondered if they were in the back somewhere taking a smoke. They didn't plan on making any purchases, yet it made her feel like she was trespassing. What if someone came in later, destroyed the cameras, stole a bunch of stuff, then pinned it on them? Kennedy stopped herself before her thoughts barrelled down that dark alley.
This was the kind of thinking her therapist always deemed "excessive and unnecessary". But if it was up to her therapist, she would spend the bulk of her day meditating, journaling, going on walks, and spending "quality time" with family, despite the fact that her family was even more anxious than she herself was. Her therapist severely underestimated her ability to infuse stress into every situation.
Instead of perusing the shelves as she wanted to, Kennedy positioned herself against the wall by the bathroom door. You couldn't be accused of shoplifting if you didn't go near the merchandise, could you?
Dania came out a moment later, saying, "I don't think they've cleaned that toilet since 1982."
Kennedy grabbed her arm. "Wait for me, will you? This place gives me the heebie-jeebies."
Dania shrugged. "Yeah, alright. You or the boys want anything?"
"No!"
Dania raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay. I might get some m&m's." She looked around, a confused look dawning on her face. "If I can find the cashier that is."
"It's 6am, you don't need m&m's," Kennedy snapped. "Just wait for me right there."
Dania snorted. Once Kennedy had disappeared into the closet-like bathroom, Dania began wandering around the store. She found some peanut butter m&m's, and a granola bar to balance it out. There was still plenty of time in the day to fit in some protein, fruits and veggies. As an athlete, Dania sometimes felt overwhelmed by the need for good nutrition, but right now she just wanted some chocolatey goodness.
She threw her goodies onto the counter, tapped her seasonally winter-blue nails against the peeling countertop. She pulled her phone out to text Lucas if they wanted any snacks, or more specifically, to ask Dave if he wanted snacks. Dave lived on snacks.
Just as she hit send and began stuffing it back into her pocket, something closed around her wrist. Dania let out a little shriek.
"What the—"
Something cold pressed against her temple. Instinctively, Dania attempted to jump sideways, but the hand around her wrist jerked her back into place. "Don't move and don't raise your voice or I shoot" the unknown but felt presence rumbled.
"Where's the cashier 'round here?!" the man—Dania had a hard time imagining the rumbler as a woman, with the voice and large hand—bellowed, presumably to a comrade. Dania suddenly wondered if Kennedy was still in the bathroom. She hoped the sound of voices would keep her from reappearing. Then, another part of her wished she would appear and provide some kind of distraction.
"I think he's 'round back," another masculine voice replied.
As if summoned from the dead, a bedraggled cashier emerged from a rusting and squeaking door from behind the counter. Instead of ditching the cigarette out back, he twiddled it around his fingers and permitted the smoke to trail behind him like a cape. "Wha's the meanin' of this?"
The robber knocked on Dania's head a few times. "All the money or I shoot."
The cashier nodded, unwilling to commit to a dramatic performance.
"Hurry on, now, what're you waitin' for?"
He knocked on Dania's head again. "If you're checking for brains, I've got plenty," Dania snapped.
"Next word oughta your mouth and—"
"Yeah, alright. I'll be quiet."
The cashier pushed a few dollars and coins towards the robber with the gun. "Sonny, you'll grab that?"
'Sonny' sauntered over into Dania's frame of vision. Short and stocky, she noted. Probably only a few inches over her, and Dania was not a tall woman. Everything else from head to toe was wrapped in black.
"What's this, a joke?" Sonny asked, slamming his fist onto the countertop, causing the plywood to splinter a little.
"What," the cashier growled. "You wanted cash, her's yer cash."
"He asked for all of it," Sonny sneared. "Not a donation to charity, dammit."
The cashier leaned his elbow on the counter and sneared back. "What and you think we got business goin' 'ere? I rarely show up 'xcept for some of the better parts of the week."
"You can't tell me that's all you've got!" The gun-wielding robber yelled, gesturing angrily towards the sad lump of cash. "That's pathetic!"
The cashier laughed. "Y'er tellin' me!"
The gun-wielder gripped Dania harder. "Whadd'ya think, Sonny? Maybe we should take a different approach."
Sonny frowned. "Yeah?"
"Whadd'ya bet," he drawled, "This chick's got some rich parents?"
Suddenly, a young female voice piped up from near the doorway, shouting, "I've got 911! You guys better leave!"
"Fucking Kennedy," Dania muttered.
The gun-wielder whips around, pointing the gun towards Kennedy. He takes a shot, but it hits the snack wall instead.
The phone says, "Is everything alright there? What's going on?"
Dania swore again. Trust Kennedy to have the wits to call 911, but not enough to actually give them essential information before thrusting herself into danger.
The gun-wielder returns the gun to Dania's head instead. "End the call and toss the phone or I shoot."
Kennedy tossed the phone.
"END the call," he demanded. Kennedy scrambled to hit the red button. It took a few attempts.
"Alright," the gun-wielder exhaled. "Here's what we're going to do here."
Everyone watched him silently, as he composed himself.
"I'm letting your friend and you go. We're taking the, almost worthless frankly, bit of cash here—Sonny grab the cash, will you?—and no one is going to speak a word of this or I will kill everyone you know. Sonny, grab the phone, please?"
"No problem," Sonny replied graciously. He sauntered around Dania and snatched Kennedy's phone from the floor.
He pushed Dania roughly towards the door, causing her to stumble forward. "Now leave and don't come back here," he growled.
Dania and Kennedy grabbed each other and hurried out the heavy door.
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TITLE: "We don't have money"
GENRE: mystery/thriller/drama/humor
AGE RANGE: Young Adult or Adult
WORD COUNT: (86,270 words, 2,946 of those in this excerpt)
I will be adding more in another writing space and will send these additions/updates if you are interested. My goal is about 80,000+ words (completed) by mid to early July. I aim to finish (80-90,000 goal) sometime by early-mid July.
AUTHOR NAME: Alexandra "Lexi" Kearns (would use pseudonym)
EDUCATION: Graduated with bachelors in psychology Spring, 2024; beginning Master's in Clinical MH Counseling in Fall 2024
INTERESTS/HOBBIES: Reading and writing, figure skating, baking
ABOUT ME: I am 22 years old and an athlete, having figure skated competitively for a little over a decade now. Because I aspire to be a therapist, I also plan to attend graduate school at next year (master's).
As for writing, I have always been a writer, since I can remember. I have been writing stories of one kind or another (mostly some kind of "mystery") since I realized you could make stories with just a pen and paper (or keyboard). I enjoy trying different characters and writing styles, although I always like to inject a little bit of wry humor and I prefer to write characters I can identify with in some way. I am one of those writers who is strongly influenced by the people I know and the random events around me (though I believe this is a universal writing "thing"?).
WRITING STYLE: usually comedic and dramatic. Things tend to make more sense as I go along, so some things (e.g., either adding other "suspects" to divert suspicion and muddle things OR focusing more on the "thriller" aspect than a bona fide mystery) will be sorted out as I get further in and see what direction makes most sense.
PITCH: I think this could be a good fit because Trident has a wide range of books and genres (including thrillers), but also because the idea is a bit unique in a few ways. As a college student, I don't find a lot of books featuring college students, even if the main character is "college age". I.e., I don't find many books that use college as a prominent background/setting, despite this being an interesting moment in many people's lives. This plot is something of a mix between a traditional thriller-mystery style book (one of the "crazier ones", perhaps, in terms of "Would this actually happen in real life?") and a bizarre episode of true crime stories. E.g., I remember seeing one (true crime story) recently about a gang of women who drugged and blackmailed men in bars, making them think they were cheating on their girlfriends (they were actually being drugged, raped, and then blackmailed—it was a crime ring). So, there is comfortable familiarity along with some satisfying originality (I hope!).
PROJECT SYNOPSIS (No Spoilers, "back-of-the-book" summary): Four college students are headed back to their university after winter break when a pit-stop at an abandoned gas station sets forth a chain of strange, unexplained events.
It all starts with a foiled robbery and the badly-done impersonation of a lawyer. Soon, alarming texts and threats plague the four students as they struggle to blend back into campus life. Is Sylvia and her abusive husband at the heart of it all, as Lucas and Dave suspect? Or is it an aftereffect of the failed robbery that traumatized Kennedy and Dania? Lucas, Dave, Kennedy, and Dania can't help but wonder if the only way this ends is in tragedy, possibly even for one of them.
PROJECT SUMMARY (including spoilers): Four college students are headed back to their university after winter break when a pit-stop at an abandoned gas station sets forth a chain of strange, unexplained events.
Dave and Lucas are approached by a middle-aged woman requesting aid in finalizing a divorce. At the same time, Kennedy and Dania experience their own drama inside the store while waiting for the bathroom (a mostly-failed robbery). Both set of friends are reluctant to discuss what happened to the other two, for different reasons. Dave and Lucas are embarrassed and uneasy. Kennedy and Dania are scared for their life, after they are threatened and Kennedy's phone is stolen.
Mysteriously, Kennedy's phone is returned after having gone missing in the robbery attempt. Over the course of the next few days, Kennedy and Dania suspect they are being stalked. They do not reveal their suspicions to their friends Dave and Lucas, until the guys inform them about texts they are receiving claiming that Sylvia, the woman whom they "helped", is in danger. Texts from Sylvia plead for help, while texts from another number (presumably the abuser/kidnapper) demand money for Sylvia's safety and use threats to discourage them from contacting the police. When Dave and Lucas decide to notify the authorities of the exchanges, pictures from Dania's and Kennedy's stalker change their minds.
The name of the book "We don't have money" is because, contrary to the perpetrators' imaginations, the four students fit more into the "broke college students" trope (they work minimum wage jobs, mostly cut off from family finances, etc.). After obtaining some of their information at the gas station (Dave's phone number, Kennedy's phone), they find Dave has very well-off relatives (generations of doctors) whom they confuse for his parents (it is actually his aunt and uncle). So, they assume Dave can easily convince his relatives to pay off their demands with the right pressure. However, Dave's parents, while comfortably middle-class, do not have excess money, are stingy, and cut him off from financial support after he started working part-time at a law firm.
Kennedy also has wealthy connections, but these are even further down the pipeline. Kennedy's grandmother was a famous billionaire novelist who hated her children so much that she cut them off from her will before her recent death, donating all of her money to charity. Her only reconciliation was to give each of her family members one of her many cats. Therefore, Kennedy's family is also unwilling to give into their demands.
However, the perpetrators do not know this and firmly believe they will obtain the money if they push hard enough.
***as mentioned, plot needs more development, of course, but this is just what I have come up with so far.