Nick of Time Read Online Free Page B

another two fingers crossed that Dad hadn’t yet found the card missing from his wallet and canceled it. It’d been two weeks, and she’d been counting on his inattention to anything but his work. She had him pegged as more of a check-cashing kind of guy than an ATM guy anyway, ever dedicated to anything that was out of date.
    When the “Welcome, Carter Janssen” screen greeted her, Nicki smiled. “Time to milk the cash cow,” she mumbled, smiling at the image her words conjured.
    Her attempt to withdraw $5,000 choked the machine, prompting it to clatter and beep, finally displaying on the screen that $500 was the maximum she could take. So much for a turn of good luck. She’d had no idea that banks limited withdrawals. According to Brad, they needed a couple thousand, minimum, to make this work. As the machine spat out twenty-five $20 bills, Nicki tried to figure out how to make up the difference. She thought about running the card through a second time, but worried that the machine might sense a theft in progress and eat it.
    She’d think of something later. As it was, she was spending way too much time in front of a security camera.
    The driver was still waiting at the curb, the engine running, when Nicki walked up to his window and asked, “What’s the fare so far?”
    He pointed to the meter. “Twelve dollars and eighty cents.”
    She gave him a twenty. “Here. Is this enough to keep you waiting for a while longer?”
    â€œHow much longer?”
    â€œTen minutes, max.”
    â€œI will wait for seven minutes,” he said.
    Nicki rolled her eyes, knowing instantly that she’d misplayed that hand. If she wanted ten minutes, she should have asked for twelve. “Fine. Just don’t leave me here.”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œTo the coffee shop.”
    She walked across the street to the Square Cup and Saucer, a coffee bar/Internet lounge. Nicki had been a coffee fan for as long as she could remember. Even when she was a little girl, her mom would fix her a cup that was mostly sugar and milk, but she’d always loved the taste. Yet another favorite pastime crossed off the list by her death sentence. No caffeine, period.
    But God, the aroma of the place. She wondered if this was how an ex-smoker felt when she sat in a bar.
    Oh, what the hell. Brad said this was a whole new beginning. When the barista looked to her, Nicki ordered a large coffee to go.
    It took a minute to figure out how the pay-for-computer-time thing worked, but only a minute. She paid her three dollars, slid into a booth, and clicked on her service provider. The page opened up in a blink, the wonders of a high-speed connection. Back home, Dad was too cheap to pay for a DSL connection, so she was stuck with a screechy modem. She logged on under her regular screen name and briefly scanned the headings of her incoming e-mail, finding nothing but junk, three of which were offers to make her penis longer. Go figure.
    She still had three and a half minutes of the cabbie’s time reserved when she opened the “Write Mail” window and tapped in Brad’s address.
    â€œOkay,” she wrote. “You win. It’s 2:37 now, and I’m on the next bus outta here. Don’t stand me up. Luv, N.”
    She read it four times to make sure that it said all that it needed to, but not a word more, then clicked the Send button. Just like that, at the speed of light, her new life began.
    Sipping her coffee, aglow with the feeling of guilt, Nicki again concentrated on keeping her movements smooth and as normal-looking as possible. She ran the plan through her head one more time.
    Looking back, it was probably a mistake to leave the message on the home phone so early. She just didn’t want Dad to worry.

    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    February 15
    I got my work assignment, and it’s the shittiest one. I’m in the kitchen, slogging pots. I’ve