Fair warning, this story starts off a little slow and features only a low level of action. All characters are over eighteen.
* * *
Nora was screwed. She already struggling to keep it together, barely earning enough at her part-time job to pay for food, rent, utilities, and school fees, and now she had to fork out several weeks' pay to fix her car. And it wasn't even her fault.
Clutching the printout in her hand, Nora stormed into the living room, where the culprit was already sprawled on the couch with a bottle of vodka. Lindsay Torres, who had made decent progress on the bottle despite that fact it was only four in the afternoon, looked up and smiled blearily.
"Hey baby," Lindsay slurred. "What's going on?"
"Oh, nothing much mum," Nora angrily retorted. "Just the quote to repair my car came in. $1400."
Lindsay had recently borrowed Nora's car in order to pop down to the local shops and pick up some milk. Normally this would have been a non-issue, but Lindsay had been completely wasted at time, and crashed the car. The body suffered several severe scratches and dents that were going to be costly to fix, but the real expense was the damaged engine. And Lindsay? She walked away without a scratch, and was later found in the shop carpark, sitting on the curb and sipping from a bottle of Ruskov.
"That's a lot," Lindsay said, and a faint frown creased her face. "How are you going to pay for that?"
Nora saw red. "Don't you think you should pay for it?" she said, as calmly as she could manage. "It was your fault."
Lindsay blinked slowly. "It's your car though," she explained, and turned back to the television.
Nora glared at her mother, and stood in front of her. "Can I at least take it out of the money I have to give you for rent and utilities?"
Lindsay shook her head emphatically. "Nope," she said. "You need to cover your half of the rent, I can't afford to pay it all myself. You're an adult, you've got a job. You need to support yourself."
"Speaking of which, how am I meant to get to work now? Are you going to let me use your car?"
"No, I need that," Lindsay said. "You'll just have to catch the bus."
"That's a fucking two hour trip one way," Nora exploded.
"Sorry love," Lindsay said, patting her arm. "But maybe this will teach you to be responsible, and put some savings aside for emergencies. Like I did."
That was the final straw. Nora could take many things and keep her temper, but her mum lecturing her on being responsible with money? The same woman that alienated her entire family and pisses away all of her earnings on alcohol? That Nora could not stand, and she left the room before she snapped and gave Lindsay a well-deserved smack in the face.
Pacing in her bedroom, Nora thought desperately about what she could do. She didn't have anywhere near enough savings to pay to fix her car, and without her car she wasn't able to get to work to earn more money to pay for it. It was a long shot, but there was only one thing she could think of that might work.
Although Lindsay claimed to have "put money aside for emergencies", Nora knew that was a bunch of crap. While it was true that they had had money troubles before, and that Lindsay had managed to get them out of it, Nora knew the real reason why. At least five times over the years, Lindsay had turned to her uncle, Sam Rowe, for help. Nora didn't know why Sam had given them money ― Lindsay had alienated nearly all of their family over the years, and Lindsay's sole connection to Sam was her affair with his deadbeat brother Alex, Nora's father ― but Nora had found several bank transfers from a company that a quick Google search revealed was owned by him.
Unfortunately Nora didn't have much personal history with her uncle, and hadn't seen him for over a decade, since she was eight. She knew it was unlikely he would help her out, but he'd given her mum money, so maybe there was a chance at least. Even if it was just a loan, she'd be more than happy to pay him back.
Her mind made up, Nora decided to try contact her uncle. It would be awkward, asking a man who was the barest definition of family for $1400, but what other choice did she have?
All she had to do now was arrange a meeting with him. Nora had no idea where he lived, and knew Lindsay wouldn't tell her, so her only choice was to visit him at work. As she didn't have his phone number (and again, no chance of getting that off Lindsay) she quickly Googled his company and punched their office number into her mobile. Suddenly nervous, Nora pressed the green icon and listened to the dial tone.
"Hello, Rowe Housing and Construction, this is Joy speaking. How may I help you?"
"Hi. I was wondering, would I please be able to make an appointment to see Sam Rowe?"
"What was this regarding?"
"A personal matter."
"I see," the receptionist said, somewhat distractedly. A bunch of office supplies had just been wheeled in, and the delivery guy was handing her a couple of forms to sign. She pinned the phone between her head and shoulder as she skimmed through the clipboard. "And what is your relationship with Sam?"
"I'm his niece," Nora explained. "Nora Torres. My mum is his brother's ex-wife, Lindsay Torres?"
Unknown by Nora, the receptionist only caught the last few words she had said. "Lindsay Torres, huh? Alright, I'll just check Sam's schedule. Let's see... He's free this Thursday, at 11:30 am. Does that work for you?"
"Yes, thank you very much," Nora gushed, and hung up. She'd have to catch a couple of buses to get to his office, but if it got her the money to fix her car, it'd be worth it.
* * *
Nora woke up early Thursday morning and quickly got dressed. She'd decided to go with business casual, donning a button-up blue shirt, brown jacket, and dark trousers. Admittedly the shirt was a little tight, but it was extremely flattering when she viewed herself side-on in the mirror and it never hurt to look good when asking a man for money, even if he was your uncle. She forced herself to eat breakfast despite her mounting nervousness, brushed her teeth, and headed out for a meeting that could change her life.
Three buses later and Nora was standing outside Rowe Housing and Construction's business office. She took a deep breath, entered the lobby, and went straight up to the reception desk. The receptionist, a middle-aged matronly-looking woman, was tapping away at her computer but looked up as she approached.
"Hello," she said warmly. "Are you here to apply for the office assistant position?"
"Uh, no," Nora said. "I actually have an 11:30 meeting with Sam Rowe."
