Oliver Ausman Lives Again

fifteen

My eyes go wide as Charlie pulls out a red credit card from the pocket of his shirt. He's smirking, clearly pleased with himself. I can't figure out if I'm relieved or terrified to see the familiar plastic in his hand.

"Where did you get that?" I question. I'm pretty sure I already know the answer-- the how is what I should be asking. 

"Mom and Dad were still sleeping and I knew we might need it," he explains, looking like he doesn't see a problem with it.

I'm having trouble deciding if I'm proud or disappointed, all while wondering why I didn't think of it. Why spend my own money on a trip that they should be paying for? And if my goal is to piss them off, which I can't deny it partly is, this will most definitely get the job done.

"Charlie, I'm not saying I encourage this kind of behavior," I watch him roll his eyes at my parental tone, "but this is... I mean... it was pretty genius of you."

He smiles, nodding. "I thought so."

"Not to be a buzzkill," Kat interjects, "but won't your parents know right where you are if they see the charge on their card?"

I know she's right, but shrug it off. "Hopefully they won't see it. Chances are in the midst of all this, they won't even know it's missing."

It is risky, but my hunger for rage-inducing rebellion is too high for me to care. Besides, the more I think about it, the more I realize that apart from turning around and going home, or finding the shittiest motel in New York, it's just about the only option we have.

»»——⍟——««

Apparently, the hunger for rage-inducing rebellion also means that I impulsively book the most expensive room available, much to Monica's poorly hidden surprise. And we get lucky-- I'm not sure if it's because she doesn't care or doesn't notice, but the fact that the name on my driver's license doesn't match the one on the credit card doesn't seem to matter.

Unfortunately, check-in isn't until three, and it's only nine o'clock. We've got six hours to kill before then, and then almost ten more until Isaac's shift-- but I'm not complaining, since that means sixteen more hours with Kat if she really meant what she said about sticking around. It's still hard for me to believe she came with us in the first place, let alone decided to stay for any longer than she needed to.

The first thing we do is bring the car to the hotel. Then, since walking seems to be a lot easier than driving here, we take another stroll through the city to a nearby pizza place. There's barely anyone inside due to how early it still is, so it doesn't take long for us to get seated and order.

The place has character, but is nothing unique for a pizza parlor-- black and white tiled flooring and plain walls with a few framed pictures here and there. Kat sits in the red booth across from me and Charlie, who once again seems entranced by the busy city on the other side of the window.