Free Hittin' It Out the Park by Allison Hobbs

order of fries.” She turned to go have a seat at one of the small café tables.
    â€œExcuse me, Miss.”
    Sexy turned back around. “Yes?”
    â€œYou have to pay first.”
    â€œSince when? I never heard of that policy.”
    â€œSince now.” The woman folded her arms defiantly.
    The jealous-hearted bitch was simply trying to give her a hard time, and Sexy refused to feed into her petty little game. With a shrug, she dug out her debit card from her purse and handed it over. Sexy supposed she should have been appreciative that this hater was taking orders at the counter instead of being in the back cooking the food. She seemed capable of mixing in rat poison with the meatball sauce.
    Another stab of hunger reminded Sexy that she was close to starvation, and the cashier-bitch hadn’t even processed her order. “Hey, why’re you taking so long with my debit card?”
    â€œIt’s not working.”
    â€œWhat do you mean it’s not working?”
    â€œThe bank declined it for insufficient funds.”
    â€œThat’s bullshit. I have more than enough money in my account to pay for a damn meatball sandwich,” Sexy said, her voice rising.
    â€œTalk to your bank,” the cashier said, sounding self-satisfied and vindicated for some perceived wrong.
    Sexy wanted to slap her, but in a civilized society, the only thing she could get away with was snatching the card out of the woman’s hand and storming out of the deli. Standing outside, she immediately called her mother and screamed into the phone, “What’s going on? Why isn’t there any money in my account?”
    â€œGood afternoon, Amanda, dear. It’s so nice to hear from you,” Clarissa said in the fake, cheerful tone that Sexy hated.
    â€œWhat are you trying to do, Mom—cause me to die of starvation?”
    â€œThat wouldn’t be an issue if you were home with your family where you belonged.”
    â€œBeing home wasn’t working. You know it. I know it . . . we all know it.”
    Clarissa sighed. “With you running wild in the city, your father and I don’t rest easily. We made an agreement and you broke it.”
    â€œAw, Mom. Why do you insist upon treating me like a child?”
    â€œWe agreed that you’d check in with us once a week, yet we haven’t heard a peep out of you in almost three weeks. We’ve called and left messages, to no avail. The only way to find out if you were dead or alive was to cut off your cash flow.”
    â€œNow that you know I’m alive, can you please put the money back in my account?”
    The sarcasm in Clarissa’s voice turned into a whine. “How long is this rebelliousness going to go on, Amanda? After giving you the best of everything from exclusive prep schools to European vacations, your father and I never dreamed you’d turn out like this. How did we fail you?”
    â€œYou didn’t fail me, Mom. I’m a work in progress.”
    â€œAre you still staying with that dance student on Lombard Street?”
    â€œNo, we had a fight and I’m crashing with another friend.”
    â€œSomeone more responsible than a dance student, I hope.”
    â€œYeah, she’s a future rocket scientist, Mom,” Sexy said irritably.
    â€œWatch the attitude, young lady. I’m your mother and I have every reason to be concerned about you. A well-bred young lady shouldn’t be roaming the streets the way you do.”
    â€œYou make it sound as if I’m a hooker, working the track or something. God, I’m not roaming the streets. I live in a safe place with a friend.”
    â€œWhat’s your friend’s name? And where exactly do you live?”
    â€œHer name is Emma. You don’t need the address because I’m in the process of hooking up another crib.”
    â€œâ€Šâ€˜Hooking up another crib’! Do you hear yourself, Amanda? You sound like