Back outside, the rain has let up, leaving only the heavy clouds and damp air behind. We climb into her car and Kayla tears open the new clue and reads out loud.
“ ‘Daren. I hope the game of life has been good to you. Even if you don’t feel like you’re succeeding, remember you’re still in the early innings. Lesson number five: The only game that matters is the game of life. And a few lost innings aren’t a lost game. By now, I’m sure you’re both frustrated with me, and probably ready to get your handcuffs off. Go to the lavender ranch at the end of Canary Road for your final clue. Then you’re done!’ ”
Her face lights up. “The last clue! We’re almost finished.”
“Awesome,” I say, munching on a cookie as I frown at the setting sun. “All we have to do now is go to an abandoned lavender field… in the middle of the desert… at night… without flashlights…”
“Yeah,” she says, biting her lip. “Not ideal.”
“Maybe we should wait until morning.”
She nods. “You’re probably right. But I don’t have my motel room still booked. That’s why my suitcase is in the car. I thought we’d be done by now and I’d be headed back to Chicago. And as much as I love being your sugar mama, I don’t have any money to book another room. So let’s stay at your place tonight.”
“At my place? Uh…”
“What? Do you live with eight frat boys who eat with their feet and fart a lot, or what?”
“No. Not exactly.” But that would be better than the truth. Anything would be better.
“Then what?” She juts her chin.
“My place is just a bit of a mess and not really ready for company. You wouldn’t like it.”
She sneers. “Then why don’t you shell out the cash to get us a hotel room? It’s about time you and your designer shirt start contributing to this little adventure. I mean, I’ve paid for everything. Like our room last night—”
“You would have paid for that room even if we’d found the inheritance,” I point out.
“Okay, then what about my car? Who paid for all the gas that’s been toting you around all day? Me.” She pauses. “Where the hell is your Porsche anyway?”
“Uh… in the shop.”
She furrows her brow. “I thought it was parked far, far away.”
I scratch my cheek. “It is.”
She looks at me, skeptical. “It’s parked far, far away in a shop?”
“Yep.” I nod. “Far, far away in a shop of all the other repossessed cars in the county.” I force a smile.
She pulls back. “Your car got repossessed?”
“Yes,” I say, shifting in my seat. “And it’s not my car. It’s my dad’s. Technically.”
She looks confused. “Why?”
“Because I had to sell my own car to pay some bills and I needed a way to get to and from work. Ergo, I drive my dad’s car.”
“No.” She blinks impatiently. “Why was the Porsche repossessed?”
“Oh.” I inhale. “Because I don’t have the money to make any more payments on it. My dad made a year’s worth of payments on the Porsche before he went to jail, which is the only reason I was able to drive it for so long. I couldn’t sell it because my dad owed more on the loan than it was worth, but I also couldn’t afford to keep it because the payments were ridiculous and I have no money,” I say. “Ergo, the Porsche was repossessed.”
She scans my face. “So you don’t have any money?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I already told you that.”
“I thought you were being dramatic.” She sighs. “Well I don’t have any money either. So unless you feel like sleeping in my car, we need to stay the night at your place.”
For a moment, I seriously consider sleeping in her car.
“Fine,” I say, sucking up my housing insecurities with a groan. “We’ll go back to my place. But just for the record”—I point at her—“I warned you that you wouldn’t like it.”
She smirks. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
I shake my head as we pull out of the parking lot.
Famous last words.