Part 5 - Struggling

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Letty's POV

Five months later we were struggling a little. Dom had been locked up for six months now and damn it, things were tough. One night I sat over the bills and poured over them. The garage wasn't doing too great at that point, it was difficult to run with only two hands. Mr Toretto had Dom and Vince to help him out, I had no one. Vince was off doing who knew what, and I refused to crawl to him begging for help. Anyways Vince would probably slow me up, he wasn't that good when working with cars, he preferred to sit and watch. I was short. The rent we charged for the shop, pretty much just covered the upkeep and general repairs of it and a little over a half of the house. The small percent of a mortgage which remained on the garage would only take another few months to pay off and if not paid it would mean that we'd lose it or the interest would skyrocket. Bills littered the table and I wrote the cheques to cover them, sealing them in envelopes to be sent. Still too short. I needed fifteen hundred dollars. Where could I make fifteen hundred dollars quickly? How?

I took myself off to work the next day after a restless nights sleep. I got Mia up at seven and said goodbye hurriedly.

It wasn't until I reached the garage that I realised I'd left the bills and mortgage crap abandoned on the table. What to do? I could lie, I was good at that. I could say I found the money from somewhere. The garage could do exceptionally well this week, maybe with something to spare.

That night Mia confronted me about the money.

"Let, why didn't you tell me we were struggling?" She asked. Her eyebrows furrowed and her jaw clenched with anger and irritation.

"Because we ain't," I lied.

"So where's the rest of the money for the mortgage?" Mia demanded, waving the slip of paper with my scored out and messy sums at me.

"I'm adding it in this weekend with the money from the garage. I'm slammed this week Mi, I'll have the money by Sunday night. I just gotta keep working." 

I could see the indecision written plainly across her face. She didn't know whether or not to believe me. She bit her lip and thought whilst I pretended to be care free and leaned back against the counter. Reluctantly she conceded defeat. She didn't have a clue where the mortgage money and the rest came from, I did the garage bookwork so I knew exactly what passed out of there daily.

"I trust you Let, you'd tell me if we were struggling, wouldn't you?"

"Yeh I'd tell you Mi," I lied.

Like hell I'd tell her, she'd only worry and fuss and cry. Then she'd tell Dom and what could Dom do for us? It wasn't like they doled money out to the family of prisoners. She returned to the stew she was making for dinner and dished it up in bowls, piping hot.

I sat up that night, late once more, this time I had a drink and sat on the wall outside the house where Dom and I had sat six months before. I held the fast emptying bottle of Corona in my hand and ran my fingers over the label, thinking over what to do, why to do it and when. The money had to be on the table by Sunday night to fit in with my previous lie to Mia. Resting my face in my hand I thought carefully. I had six days. That wasn't long.

In the corner of my eye I glimpsed the door to Mr Toretto's garage and I pushed it open carefully and raked my eyes over my Cobra. I could sell it. I loved this car though and it meant a lot to me. I had learned how to race in this car. The engine was hardy and ran perfectly. Parked beside Dom's Escort they looked an intimidating pair. I ran my hand over the distinctive gaudy red finish which I'd never really liked, my intention had been to spray it carbon black but no one would let me saying it would detract from the classic look of the car. Now I was glad I hadn't as the car was worth money and I knew a guy who always asked to buy it. He'd offered me ten thousand dollars last time and his crappy import was in the garage tomorrow. Hopefully he'd drag it up in conversation and I'd pretend to hate the idea and let him talk me into it. I'd only take cash for it though.

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