*on hold* Until Callan moved in next door, Presley was one hundred percent, completely fine with how her life was turning out.
She never regretted dropping out of college or wasting her days working in a diner for minimum wage. Boredom never plagued...
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"Okay. Let's just think. Could it have been towed?" Cal asked as he ran a hand through his dark hair.
I thought for a second before shaking my head. "No. Definitely not."
The sign above the parking meter read 2 hour visitor parking - Spec Hardware. We'd been there less than an hour, and even if we had exceeded the time limit, surely we'd earn a simple ticket and not a tow. And we hadn't parked in a handicap spot, either. I was always extra careful not to do that.
My car was stolen. That was the only explanation.
"Oh my god," I cried, covering my face with my hands. "How the fuck did this happen?"
Cal was quiet, pacing in the very spot where my car should have sat. It was silly, but I glanced down the street, hoping by some miracle I'd see my white Kia. What a stupid thought. Obviously, thieves weren't going to take my car just to drive it twenty feet down the street. They're going to use it to buy drugs or sell it for parts. Do people even want Kia parts?What if they get McDonald's and wipe their greasy hands on my leather seats? What if they take her through a manual car wash!?
Agitated, I pulled out my phone to call the police. My stomach grumbled as the dial tone rang in my ear. We should have been eating tacos and drinking margaritas right now, not reporting my car stolen. And calling my insurance. And then getting a rental car to drive home.
This fucking sucks.
"Hi, I'd like to report my car stolen. I mean, I wouldn't like to. But I need to. Someone stole my car!" A mess of words tumbled out of my mouth when the operator asked me how she could help. After that, I was promptly put on hold. Sighing, I sat down on a bench just down the street. It was then I realized I had no idea where Callan was. Pre-recorded messages about the dangers of drunk driving played as I looked around for my neighbor.
Before I had a chance to search for him any further, someone finally picked up and asked me all sorts of questions. What's your license plate number? Was the car locked? Yes. Did I know my VIN number? Who the hell knows that off by heart? They were lucky I remembered the model and year. Were there any valuables? No... wait... just thousands of dollars worth of light fixtures.
Fuck my life. I wanted to cry right then and there, but I knew that wasn't going to solve anything. Being hangry wasn't helping the situation, either.
What felt like three hours passed before I finished filing the report, and just as I hung up, I saw Callan emerge from the direction of the parking lot. He looked deflated, rightly so. No doubt he realized all of his precious lights were in the trunk of my car. Thankfully, there was nothing else of value... unless you counted a couple of air fresheners and a First Aid Kit courtesy of Mom.
"Where'd you go?" I asked.
He sat next to me. "I went inside to check if they had security cameras in the parking lot. No luck."
