Part 2
Chapter 2 — The Spending Gets Worse
Melissa’s photo appeared while I was answering a client email.
A white luxury sedan filled the screen, a red bow stretched across the hood.
Melissa leaned against the driver’s door in oversized sunglasses.
Her caption read, “Finally driving something that matches my energy.”
I stopped typing.
For several seconds, I just stared.
Two weeks ago, she had called me because her rent was short.
Now she was standing beside a car that cost more than her yearly salary.
I opened our family group chat.
Melissa had already posted another picture.
Mom replied first.
Beautiful. You deserve it.
Dad added three clapping emojis.
I typed a message.
Is that your car?
Melissa answered almost immediately.
Obviously.
You bought it today?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Why do you care?
I looked at the photo again.
“Because you couldn’t pay rent two weeks ago,” I whispered.
My phone rang.
Melissa.
I answered.
“Where did you get the money?”
She laughed.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You couldn’t even say congratulations?”
“Melissa.”
“I got a car.”
“I can see that.”
“So be happy for me.”
My voice stayed level.
“I’m asking how you paid for it.”
Her tone cooled.
“You always need to know everybody’s business.”
“You called me crying about rent.”
“That was then.”
“That was fourteen days ago.”
She went silent.
Behind her, I heard dealership music and someone congratulating her.
Then Melissa said something quieter.
“Dad said everything was handled.”
My fingers stopped over the keyboard.
“What does that mean?”
“It means stop worrying.”
“Melissa—”
“I have to go.”
She ended the call.
A message arrived seconds later.
A selfie from inside the car.
Melissa smiling behind the wheel.
Underneath it, one sentence.
Try being happy for someone besides yourself.
I didn’t respond.
My unfinished client email remained open beside her picture.
Tyler’s post appeared before I finished processing Melissa’s.
He was sitting on a black sports bike outside a motorsports shop.
His helmet rested against the fuel tank.
The price tag still hung from the handlebar.
I zoomed in without meaning to.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Tyler.
Before you ask, yes, it’s mine.
I stared at it.
I hadn’t contacted him.
Another message followed.
And no, I don’t need a lecture.
I called anyway.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What?”
“Where did you get that bike?”
He groaned.
“Here we go.”
“It’s a simple question.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“How much was it?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You were asking Dad for gas money last month.”
“So?”
“So now you own a brand-new sports bike.”
Tyler laughed.
“You sound jealous.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m not jealous.”
“Sure.”
“I’m worried.”
“About what?”
I lowered my voice.
“Did Mom and Dad pay for it?”
Silence.
A motorcycle engine revved somewhere near him.
Then Tyler said, “Why would that matter?”
“Because they borrowed something from me.”
His tone changed.
Only slightly.
“What did they borrow?”
I waited.
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Before I answered, someone called Tyler’s name.
He covered the phone.
I heard muffled voices.
Then his voice returned.
“I have to go.”
“Tyler.”
“Seriously, don’t ruin this.”
“I’m not trying to ruin anything.”
“Then stop calling.”
The line went dead.
I lowered my phone.
A coworker appeared beside my desk.
“You coming?”
I looked up.
She pointed toward the conference room.
My stomach dropped.
The client presentation had started five minutes earlier.
I stood too fast.
My chair struck the desk behind me.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
She looked at my screen.
Melissa’s car.
Tyler’s bike.
Then she looked at me.
“You okay?”
I locked my phone.
“Fine.”
She didn’t believe me.
Neither did I.
“You missed the opening, and you sent the wrong attachment.”
My manager closed the conference-room door behind us.
I held my laptop against my chest.
“I know.”
“That client was yours.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
My phone vibrated inside my pocket.
I ignored it.
He waited.
“I had a family issue.”
His expression stayed neutral.
“Is everyone safe?”
“Yes.”
“Then I need you here when you’re here.”
“I understand.”
He placed a printed document on the table.
My name appeared at the top.
Then another employee’s name beneath it.
“I’m moving Friday’s presentation to Erica.”
I looked at him.
“That account is mine.”
“It was.”
The words landed harder than his tone.
“I can fix this.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ve never missed one before.”
“I know.”
“Then give me another chance.”
He leaned back.
“This isn’t punishment.”
It felt exactly like punishment.
“We can’t lose a client because you’re distracted.”
I nodded.
My phone vibrated again.
Then again.
He glanced toward my pocket.
“Take care of whatever is happening.”
“I will.”
“And come back focused.”
I left without arguing.
In the hallway, I checked my phone.
Three missed calls from my mother.
One text.
Stop questioning your brother and sister.
I read it twice.
Then another message arrived.
You’re embarrassing everyone.
I called her.
She answered immediately.
“What are you doing?”
“I was working.”
“You called Melissa.”
“Yes.”
“You called Tyler.”
“Yes.”
“They’re upset.”
I stopped beside the elevator.
“They bought things they can’t afford.”
My mother sighed.
“Why does everything have to become an investigation with you?”
“Because none of this makes sense.”
“Not everything has to make sense to you.”
“I need my card back.”
The elevator opened.
I didn’t move.
My mother stayed silent.
“Mom.”
“Your father has it.”
“Then tell him I’m coming.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You’re overreacting.”
“I want my card.”
“You gave it to him.”
“For one payment.”
“And maybe you should have trusted us instead of spying on everybody.”
The elevator doors closed in front of me.
I stayed in the hallway.
“I’m coming after work.”
She didn’t answer.
Then I heard her call my father’s name away from the phone.
My mother called again before I reached the parking garage.
“You don’t need to come over.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Your father is busy.”
“I only need thirty seconds.”
“He said he’ll return it later.”
“No.”
My voice came out quieter than I intended.
“I want it tonight.”
A pause.
Then my father came onto the line.
“You’re creating a problem where there isn’t one.”
“I asked for my card back.”
“And you’ll get it.”
“When?”
“When I’m done with it.”
My grip tightened around my keys.
“We agreed on one payment.”
“We agreed you were helping.”
“No. We agreed on five thousand dollars.”
Someone laughed faintly behind him.
Melissa.
My face went hot.
“Is she there?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“You’re getting worked up over nothing.”
“I’m not worked up.”
“You’ve called everybody all day.”
“I called because things don’t make sense.”
Tyler’s voice entered the background.
“She probably thinks we stole from her.”
Melissa laughed again.
I closed my eyes.
“Put Mom back on.”
My father ignored that.
“You hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
“You sound ridiculous.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“You make good money, and suddenly every dollar turns you into a detective.”
“That isn’t what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
I looked down at the concrete floor.
My manager’s words returned.
That account is mine.
I had lost a client presentation.
My siblings were laughing.
My parents still had my card.
“I just want it back.”
My father exhaled.
“Fine.”
The laughter behind him stopped.
“Come get it.”
I swallowed.
“I will.”
“And when you get here, don’t start another scene.”
“I haven’t started any scene.”
“Good.”
He ended the call.
I stood alone beside my car.
Another message appeared from Melissa.
Mom says you’re coming. Please don’t be dramatic.
Then Tyler reacted to it with a laughing emoji.
I put the phone facedown on the roof.
For several seconds, I didn’t move.
Then I picked it up again and drove toward my parents’ house.
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