Anchor (Book 1)

Chapter Fourteen

My favorite jacket had a juice stain on it, my bag was now decorated with pen marks and I'm pretty sure my notebook was stolen because I couldn't find it anywhere. Those kids were relentless and they each had an endless supply of energy.
I slung the jacket over my shoulder because I needed to try to get the marks out. We didn't have a washing machine or dryer, they were both broken, so I was forced to use the laundromat. I headed into Austin's room to gather his clothes as well because it was a waste of time to go to the laundromat with only one thing to wash.

The Brenshaw's Laundromat was a family owned laundromat. It traced back for decades. The thing about family businesses was you'd never get a person that didn't know how to run the place because they would already be trained way prior to working there. The Brenshaw family was full of a bunch of people, so I would always meet a new family member every time I went. When I walked inside the laundromat, I saw the newbie right away. They always stuck out because they'd wear this smile of pride on their face, like they reached the epitome of their family name. They'd be in a rush to greet you, too to show off their completely stellar customer service skills. They'd say, "Welcome to Brenshaw's," and then they'd insert their name and urge you to shout for them if you needed anything, "anything at all." In those places though, you didn't really need help unless the washing machine you were using was out of order. Like clockwork, the newbie recited her line when she saw me, "Hello miss, welcome to Brenshaw's! I'm Caroline. Just holler if you need anything."

I walked towards the washing machine and plopped mine and Austin's stuff inside. I inserted coins into the machine and waited for it to start. After two minutes, I noticed nothing had happened. I waved my hand in the air.

"Um, Caroline?"

She whipped her head up so fast, I was afraid she broke her neck. She set the mop she'd been cleaning the floor with down and ran to my rescue.

"What can I do for ya?" Caroline asked eagerly.

"The machine ate my quarter." I stated simply.

She furrowed her brow and then a lightbulb went off. "Oh, silly me, I believe this machine acted up earlier. I forgot to put a sign on it. Hold on. I'll be right back."

As she walked away, she kept looking over her shoulder to make sure I wasn't moving to another machine, messing up her chance to shine. Each time she did this, I shot a fake smile her way. Again, I didn't like to be stared at. She returned with an OUT OF ORDER sign in one hand and eight quarters in the other. She extended the hand with the quarters in it to me.

"Here," She said, sliding the coins into my hand, "so sorry about that. Just please, don't go to my grandpa with this." A look of utter panic crossed her face as she said this. "If the quarters don't fix the problem, I'll help you transfer your clothes."

Danny Brenshaw was the owner of the laundromat. His dad owned it before that. Mr. Brenshaw was a simple man and even though he's rarely in the shop, anyone could tell you he treats the business like his child. He exchanged all his presents from last Christmas for money to go towards the laundromat. I know this because his family is a rather chatty group and they talk about all things, public or private. During a trip one day, I had learned that little Johnny had terrible allergies and that a peanut mishap landed him in the hospital for ten days. Poor little Johnny; I almost sent him a gift basket, but then thought that would be a little weird. What would I say? I don't know the family on a personal level. "Oh, I overheard a conversation in the laundromat and thought I'd be nice and... well, here you go! Get better soon Johnny." No, I couldn't do it.

Anyways, Mr. Brenshaw was dedicated sure, but he was not cruel. I assured Caroline she would be forgiven if by chance he found out, but I promised I wouldn't tell anyways, just to give her peace of mind. She was a very sweet girl after all.          

It was a very sunny day and I tried to combat the sun by placing the newly cleaned clothes on my head. It helped close to nothing, I looked like an idiot, and by this point, I loathed everyone that had their own car. My mom had something against buying me a car, yet Austin got one on his sixteenth birthday;  It was entirely unfair.
I considered hitchhiking. What's the harm in it really? I'd just get a girl about my age to stop her car and gossip with her like she was an old friend. It wouldn't be so bad. I walked to the edge of the sidewalk near the curb. Each time a car flew by that seemed to hold a decent person inside, I stuck my thumb out. After about ten propitious cars, a Volkswagen bug graciously halted. I waved my hand in thanks as she opened the car door.

"Where to?" She questioned, chomping a piece of bubble gum.

I noticed she had a hint of an accent, but I couldn't exactly determine where she was from. I gave her the address of a house a few blocks down from my own.  My mother would never approve of hitchhiking. It was just too risky if she pulled right in front of my house. I heard barking from the back seat and I was startled.

"Relax," She said, plopping a new stick of gum into her mouth and throwing the wrapper aside. "It's just Billy."

At the sound of his name, the little Jack Russell perked up and hopped into my lap. I gasped, but then giggled.

"I hope you ain't allergic." She commented, taking one hand off the wheel to pet her pup. "Billy's really swell and a big lover, but boy, you come into our yard uninvited and he'll downright attack ya."

She laughed so loud the whole car shook. I nervously laughed along, but really, the sight of a little Russell charging at my ankles frightened me. I heard they could jump high too. My hospitality kicked into high gear just then and I politely introduced myself. She reciprocated the gesture.

"I'm Tiffany Willis, youngest child of four and proudly disgracing both my mama and papa."

She went on to describe her very active history with the law and explained that even after four DUI's, she still drinks - as she put it-  faster than a bullet penetrates the body. I shuddered at the analogy as it hit too close to home. I didn't have much time to get sorrowful because thoughts of my poor judgement filled the space. I was riding with a convict who's had frequent troubles with driving under the influence. Now, I understood what could be so bad with hitchhiking.