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At Any Price(4)

By:Brenna Aubrey


“Okay.” He smiled and took up one of his computer-generated note cards. “Name all oxygen-containing compounds that are also acid derivatives.”

I took a deep breath, hoping that little concession to softness wouldn’t ultimately bite me in the ass. Then I answered the question.

***

The first ring of the phone was included in my dream. I was about to cut into a cadaver during my first year of Gross Anatomy in some nondescript medical school class. I’d placed my scalpel against the skin, ready to cut away the subcutaneous tissues, like I’d read in my books on cadaver dissection, and the corpse began to ring like a telephone.

On the second ring, I was ripped from my dream and so groggy I could hardly place where I was.

I checked the caller ID and fumbled for the receiver.

“Mom,” I breathed, reaching for the clock. Seven thirty a.m. Why did she always insist on calling so early?

“Were you sleeping?”

I cleared my throat. “No.”

“Liar,” she said. “You need to start training yourself to get up early. Doctors don’t keep late hours.”

“Aspiring doctors keep late hours when they have been up half the night studying.”

She sighed. “Well, that’s no good, either. If you end up exhausting yourself by the time that test rolls around, you won’t be worth a single question.”

I rolled my eyes as my head fell back onto the bed. Yeah, that made me feel so much better, Mom. Thanks. I settled my head against my warm pillow. “Why did you call me this fine morning?”

“I want to know if you need any money,” she said lightly.

I gritted my teeth, feeling my jaw bulge just under my cheeks. In my best, light voice I said, “No. I’m just fine…”

“Last night when you weren’t home, I tried calling your cell phone.” Shit. She’d got the recording that said the phone was no longer in service.

“Oh, I must have forgotten to pay the bill.”

“Emilia Kimberly Strong.”

“I’m fine, Mom. I get paid this Friday.”

Irritation crawled up my spine like a swarm of ants in search of a picnic. Like she had the right to get upset with me for lying to her when she was lying to me in the first place! I’d seen the notice of mortgage default the last time I was at home. Second warning, third. Late fees.

She was barely afloat with the ranch. The entire time I’d grown up she’d never had a mortgage. She’d bought the ranch outright when I was just a baby with the money that the Biological Sperm Donor—my not-so-affectionate term for the male who had fathered me—had paid her to go away and have her baby somewhere else.

“Mia, you’d tell me if you needed anything, wouldn’t you?” Mom, you’d tell me if you were about to be turned out by the bank, wouldn’t you? I longed to reply with those words but as usual, lacked the courage to even bring it up.

The ranch—a sort of cross between a guest “dude” ranch and a western-themed B and B—was Mom’s livelihood. But she hadn’t been able to run it properly since the cancer diagnosis and treatment. So she’d had to take out a mortgage to help cover her medical bills.

I managed my fake-bright voice again. “Of course, of course. Love ya!”

“We haven’t even talked—what—”

And damned if the call waiting didn’t click through at that moment. I checked the ID Thank you, Heath! If I could reach through the phone wire and kiss him, I would. I loved that guy.

“Mom, Heath is calling through and I think it’s pretty important. Can I call you back?”

“I’ll call you. It’s long distance.”

“Okay. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Tell him I said ‘hi’ and I’m still waiting for him to come up with you next time so I can see him.”

“Sure, sure. Love you, Mom.” And I clicked off to take the waiting call, took a deep breath and sat up.

“Dude.”

“Dollface.”

“What’s up?”

“I got it narrowed down to two guys. I’m going to meet with both of them within the next few days.”

“They’re in the area?”

“One of them doesn’t live too far away, actually. The other one is back east but he’s flying out on business this Thursday. I can meet him then.”

My heart kicked up to high-speed velocity. “Okay. What—what are they like?”

“The younger guy is only sixty-two—”

I tensed. “What?”

“Kidding.”

I sat back in relief. Shoulda known. “Asshole.”

“The third guy was kinda up there. Almost fifty. He was a ‘no’ based on other criteria, too. The younger guy is only a few years older than me. The other one is in his thirties. Pretty yummy. I’d do him, but you know I like blonds.”