Just a couple of cents above minimum wage.”
This was even better news. I had been making minimum wage in my previous job.
I must have thanked him at least twenty times in a row before Jeremy finally stoppe d me.
“No big deal, Em. I saw on a bulletin board that they were looking for a scholarship
student. I called them and gave them your name. You’ll just need to keep your grade
point averag e up.”
I had no idea how I was going to keep my grade point average up or how long it would
take for the school to notice that I had stopped attending classes, but I was thankful
nonetheless. I had really underestimated Je remy.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come and work in the store? With me?” He paused
for a second. “We’d be able to hang out a gain.”
I knew that nothing came without a price. While I was grateful, I did not want to
lead Jeremy on. He was better off without me; he just didn’t know this yet.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Je remy.”
“Sure thing,” he quickly responded. “I was just saying that because the pay’s better
at the s tore.”
After we hung up, I realized that I would have to be more careful whom I sought favors from.
When everyone had finally trickled out of the house, it was past lunchtime. I left
an exhausted Meatball snoozing under my bed and took a bus down town.
The bus stopped outside my bank. There was a huge lineup leading up to the cashiers.
While I waited in line, I fished a pen and a bubble-gum wrapper out of my purse and
pulled my pendant off my neck.
Before he died, Bill had given me a silver chain with an angel pendant. It was a humble
present, by Sheppard standards, but I never took it off. For years, I had assumed
the pendant was a thoughtful gift, but Cameron had advised me otherwise. What I had
once thought were product codes under the pedestal on which the angel sat were in
actuality numbers for a bank account that Bill had put in place for me. I had no idea
how much money was in the account, but from what Cameron had said, it was substantial.
Enough for me to make plans; enough for the baby and me to survive Spider and Vi ctor.
While I waited in line, I quickly transcribed the sequence on the bottom of the pendant,
keeping an eye out to ensure no one noticed what I was d oing.
“I’d like to access the money that’s in this account,” I announced as I got to the
next available cashier. I handed her the bubble-gum wra pper.
The cashier looked about as old as I was. Her dark hair came down to her chest and
ended at a point, like arrows to her abundant cleavage. She picked up the wrapper
by the corner as if it were diseased and stared for a mi nute.
She gazed up, doe-eyed. “I’m not sure I unders tand.”
“I need to get the money that is in this account out of this account and into my hands,”
I rephrased for her, like she was a five-year -old.
“But this isn’t an account nu mber.”
“It isn’t an account number here . The account is offs hore.”
When we finally understood each other, the clerk directed me to the second floor,
where I sat on the chairs by the elev ator.
Cameron had told me that the account was in a Cayman Islands bank. I had assumed getting
money out of the account wouldn’t be as simple as going to a cashier and asking for
it. I just didn’t have any idea how to go about it. So I sat waiting for the personal
banking manager, hoping he would know.
Another kitten walked up to me. She had a little bit less cleavage showing, but still
left little to the imagination. Her blouse was so tight it looked like the buttons
were torpedoes in wai ting.
“Ms. Sheppard?” she asked. I nodded, and she led me to an of fice.
When she sat down, I realized she was the banking manager. The multiple degrees on
her wall still gave me some hope that she might be able to hel p me.
I handed her the bubble-gum wrapper. “The bank account is in the Cayman Isl
This was even better news. I had been making minimum wage in my previous job.
I must have thanked him at least twenty times in a row before Jeremy finally stoppe d me.
“No big deal, Em. I saw on a bulletin board that they were looking for a scholarship
student. I called them and gave them your name. You’ll just need to keep your grade
point averag e up.”
I had no idea how I was going to keep my grade point average up or how long it would
take for the school to notice that I had stopped attending classes, but I was thankful
nonetheless. I had really underestimated Je remy.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come and work in the store? With me?” He paused
for a second. “We’d be able to hang out a gain.”
I knew that nothing came without a price. While I was grateful, I did not want to
lead Jeremy on. He was better off without me; he just didn’t know this yet.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Je remy.”
“Sure thing,” he quickly responded. “I was just saying that because the pay’s better
at the s tore.”
After we hung up, I realized that I would have to be more careful whom I sought favors from.
When everyone had finally trickled out of the house, it was past lunchtime. I left
an exhausted Meatball snoozing under my bed and took a bus down town.
The bus stopped outside my bank. There was a huge lineup leading up to the cashiers.
While I waited in line, I fished a pen and a bubble-gum wrapper out of my purse and
pulled my pendant off my neck.
Before he died, Bill had given me a silver chain with an angel pendant. It was a humble
present, by Sheppard standards, but I never took it off. For years, I had assumed
the pendant was a thoughtful gift, but Cameron had advised me otherwise. What I had
once thought were product codes under the pedestal on which the angel sat were in
actuality numbers for a bank account that Bill had put in place for me. I had no idea
how much money was in the account, but from what Cameron had said, it was substantial.
Enough for me to make plans; enough for the baby and me to survive Spider and Vi ctor.
While I waited in line, I quickly transcribed the sequence on the bottom of the pendant,
keeping an eye out to ensure no one noticed what I was d oing.
“I’d like to access the money that’s in this account,” I announced as I got to the
next available cashier. I handed her the bubble-gum wra pper.
The cashier looked about as old as I was. Her dark hair came down to her chest and
ended at a point, like arrows to her abundant cleavage. She picked up the wrapper
by the corner as if it were diseased and stared for a mi nute.
She gazed up, doe-eyed. “I’m not sure I unders tand.”
“I need to get the money that is in this account out of this account and into my hands,”
I rephrased for her, like she was a five-year -old.
“But this isn’t an account nu mber.”
“It isn’t an account number here . The account is offs hore.”
When we finally understood each other, the clerk directed me to the second floor,
where I sat on the chairs by the elev ator.
Cameron had told me that the account was in a Cayman Islands bank. I had assumed getting
money out of the account wouldn’t be as simple as going to a cashier and asking for
it. I just didn’t have any idea how to go about it. So I sat waiting for the personal
banking manager, hoping he would know.
Another kitten walked up to me. She had a little bit less cleavage showing, but still
left little to the imagination. Her blouse was so tight it looked like the buttons
were torpedoes in wai ting.
“Ms. Sheppard?” she asked. I nodded, and she led me to an of fice.
When she sat down, I realized she was the banking manager. The multiple degrees on
her wall still gave me some hope that she might be able to hel p me.
I handed her the bubble-gum wrapper. “The bank account is in the Cayman Isl
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