"What do you mean, there's a problem with the account?" I gripped the pen attached to the counter.

The woman pursed her lips, the epitome of a bank teller with her greying poodle hair and lipstick-stained coffee mug reading: Dog Mom. I hated everything about her.

"Check it again."

"Sir, I've already checked it three times." She nodded at someone behind me. A younger, marginally more stylish man approached.

"Is there a problem here?" Per his nametag, I gleaned his name was Greg.

"Yeah, Greg, this woman can't access my account." I flicked the pen chain back and forth like a snake.

"I can access it," she huffed. "But there's a problem."

"Which she refuses to explain." Gatekeeping bitch.

Greg leaned over the counter, scanning her computer screen. "I see. Why don't you come with me, sir?"

With a last glare at the frumpy teller, I followed Greg to his office. He offered me a seat and closed the door. "Let's see if I can help. But first, I need to verify some information."

Even though I already did this with Dog Mom, I humored him. But when he started asking questions about former addresses and random account balances, I knew I had a serious problem.

Eventually, he leaned forward in mock concern. "Sorry, Mr Davis, but I'm not sure how this happened. I can't even tell what triggered the fraud alert."

I had an idea. "I don't care what triggered it, just give me access to the funds in my checking account."

"Of course." Greg rested his elbows on the desk. "I've gone through your file and verified everything, so you'll be able to access the funds in three to five business days."

"Three to five business days!" That meant no cash until next week. My index finger tapped against the chair like a woodpecker.

"The good news is I've fixed the account, so you shouldn't have any more problems." That asshole had the nerve to look pleased with himself.

My jaw clenched. "I need the funds now. Not in three to five business days."

"While I understand that–"

I dragged a hand through my hair. "I don't think you do."

"Regardless, it's out of my hands. I can't speed up the processing." He leaned back in his shitty office chair.

Fuck this bank. "But–"

"Which is why we always recommend having an emergency cash reserve on hand."

Oh, my fucking god. This guy.

When I didn't respond, he continued. "I'd be happy to connect you to one of our budget specialists who can help to keep you on track–"

"A budget specialist! Are you fucking kidding me?" The nerve to lecture me about funds over their fuckup.

His lips drew together in a tight line. "Now, sir, there's no reason to get angry."

"No reason to get angry? You lock me out of my account, withhold my money, insult my intelligence, and still think there's no reason for me to get angry!" What was I doing talking to this loser, anyway?

"Sir–"

"Get an executive account manager." I should have done that from the start. Jesus.

"Sorry, Mr. Davis, but executive account reps only work with people who keep over $250,000 in liquid assets or investments with our bank."

My heart almost stopped. "What did you say?"

"I said those account reps only work with people with over $250,000 of liquid assets in our accounts." His chin jutted out as he crossed his arms.

This asshole needed glasses if he thought I looked hard up. "I have way more than that."

Greg frowned, his eyes darting back to his screen. "Not according to my records."

My body tensed, fingers curling around the slick wood arms of the chair. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want your balance?"

"Obviously, I want my goddamn balance."

He steepled his fingers under his chin. "Excuse me, Mr. Davis, but if you keep talking to me like that, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Just give me my balance, and I'll be happy to." Then I'd never have to see this dickhead again.

Greg frowned, but wrote a number on a scrap piece of paper and shoved it at me.

$2,487

I stared at it for a moment, my mouth completely dry. "That's impossible," I croaked. "What about the high-yield savings account?"

His frown deepened. "All I see is the checking account."

I stood up and slammed my fists on his cheap-ass desk. "I need to speak with your fucking manager."

For a moment, his composure dropped. "I am the fucking manager." Then the mask slipped back into place, and he rapped a knuckle against the glass window, waving a security guard over. "We're finished here." The door opened, their equivalent of a bouncer behind it. "You may collect your funds, preferably at an ATM, in three to five business days."

- - - ꒰ঌ( •ө• )໒꒱ - - -

French Lessons. Gym. French lessons. TV movies. French lessons. Crappy take out. French lessons. Sitcom reruns. French lessons. Sleep.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Except for the sleep. Most nights, I stared numbly at the plaster ceiling, trying to find some way out of this. It's not like I didn't have the time. I'd been out of work since receiving Danielle's email on Monday.

Hey, Wes. They moved me to the main office to assist Senior VP Charles Browning for the rest of the week. His assistant is out after an electrical accident. She got second-degree burns on her hands or something? Anyway, I'm still working on all loans in the pipeline. New packages can wait until next week when I'm back. Sorry to do this over email, but I know you hate to be interrupted when your office door is closed.

With Polly bothering me constantly and Danielle in another building, I couldn't get anything done. I gave up and took the rest of the week off.

That asshole Max was in California, visiting Cameron, of all people. That meant they knew something was up, though it'd be pointless to get into it over text with Max. He'd only brush me off, and Polly monitored all my messages, anyway.

And Livia? Her messages had been short, vague. She said she'd been sick, though I suspected otherwise. And since she stopped responding on Tuesday, I had no idea if she'd been receiving my messages at all.

She couldn't be mad at me because I hadn't even asked about Hannah yet. It's not like I believed Polly, anyway. The bird lied. I'm sure Livia was into me, had to be. Why else would she have been so thirsty lately? The whole thing with Hannah wasn't bothering me. Not a goddamn bit.

I needed to talk to her. I needed someone, anyone, with a chance to believe me. But when I walked all the way to her pharmacy, they told me she'd taken the entire week off. I'd try her apartment, but I realized I didn't know her address. Polly wouldn't even let me search, saying I was better off without her.

Without access to money, the situation was dire. I couldn't pull money out of the bank or ATM, and the credit cards kept triggering fraud alerts, with secure messages that popped up after their codes expired. I should have opened a secondary account at Piedmont Financial when I started working there. My mistake. I'd made a lot of those lately.

I hadn't been home in almost a week. I couldn't avoid it much longer. Contrary to what that asshole Greg believed, I had a stack of cash in the safe for emergencies.

And this? This qualified as a Level 1 Emergency.

Grabbing the cash would be priority number one. Then I'd check on the fish and figure out how to get in contact with Livia or Max. Barring that, I might have to go to the police. I didn't think they'd believe me, but what else could I do?

On Sunday, I chanced it. Fresh out of the shop, the BMW pulled directions to my house as soon as I started it up. Polly wanted me to go home. Wonderful. My pulse raced the entire way there, though she left me alone for once. The garage door raised when I got there, so I left the car in the driveway and walked up to the door. It scanned my fingerprint, opening with a soft click.

I tentatively stepped in, one hand on the open door. "Eve?" I didn't know how badly the home systems were compromised.

"Welcome home, Wesley." Eve sounded normal, and from where I stood, everything appeared normal, too. I set my bag down to keep the door propped open. Then I walked inside, dropping the keys on the entryway table and holding my breath. My face felt flushed. The smart home screen glowed softly, the room quiet and still. I swallowed.

"Eve, check tank levels."

"Tank levels are within specified ranges."

I released my breath and crept over to the tank. The fish darted in and around the coral, water sparkling, bathed in blue light, unconcerned with the cares of my life. They were okay; the fish were okay.

I stumbled around to the other side of the aquarium, tripping over the recliner, and collapsing onto the chair. Then I crumpled into myself, a sob bubbling out. It came from nowhere. My body rocked and shook, the racking breaths almost painful as a wept.

How had this become my life? How? I was losing it, and Polly was winning.

After what felt like forever, I wiped my hands against my eyes, trying to get my breath under control.

Weeping like a little girl wouldn't help. Neither would giving up. I needed to grab that money and get the fuck out.

"Wes?"

I jumped up. "Livia?" I hadn't heard her come in. I rubbed my face.

She hovered near the entryway, all pale and concerned. "Sorry. Saw the open door and I thought–"

"No, come in." I gestured at the leather sofa, my eyes looking everywhere but her. "Have a seat." The door. "You didn't move the bag, right?"

"What? No." She played with a clip on her keychain. "Though I was going to ask why it's wedged in the door."

"Just airing the place out." I rubbed the back of my neck, checking my reflection in the hanging mirror. Disheveled hair. Bloodshot eyes. Jesus, I looked awful. I hadn't slept or shaved in days, and it showed. "Do you want some water or anything?"

She padded into the living room and perched on the edge of the seat, eyeing me wearily. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

In the kitchen, I tried to clean my face off while fetching the water. I'd expected to be angry, wondering what happened to her for several days now, trying not to imagine her with Hannah, but she looked just as nervous as me. Regardless, I needed to get her on my side. I turned to go back to the living room when the refrigerator screen caught my eye.

Buy Tissues!

Followed by a high pitched giggle.

I closed my eyes and took two deep breaths through my nose. Then I returned to the living room and sat beside Livia.

She downed half the glass, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and setting it down on the coffee table. "Where've you been, Wes? I've been trying to reach you since Tuesday."

"A Hilton near work. I told you." The second part of her sentence caught up to me. "Wait, what are you talking about? I've been trying to reach you."

She frowned. "You left all my texts on read."

"No." I pulled out my phone and clicked on her name. Several unread messages appeared, yet none of mine showed. "What the fuck? I swear I've been trying to reach you."

She kind of squinted at me, but I couldn't read her expression. "I've been by twice already. You weren't here."

"Because I was at the hotel. I tried to tell you." Through the water of the fish tank, I saw Polly waving at me from the main Smart Screen. The glass trembled in my hand. I put it down with a clink. "I couldn't stay here because of Polly. She's terrorizing me." I just blurted it out like a toddler.

She scooted backward. "What are you talking about?"

"She's integrated with my systems. My phone, work, laptop, smart home, all of it." It tumbled out, afraid I might lose my chance. "Nothing's working."

The house was deathly quiet except for the bubbling hum from the aquarium. "You've really been trying to reach me all week?"

"Yes! You can help me, Livia." Click. The overhead light changed to purple in in the tank. No. "I need to get in touch with Max, but Polly won't even let me call him, either."

She blinked and held out her hand. "Let me see your phone." I passed it over, and she found Max's name and called him. It rang, it fucking rang, before going to voicemail. She raised an eyebrow and passed it back.

I kept an eye on the aquarium.  Click. The light changed to green. "Max! It's Wes! I need to talk to you as soon as possible! Polly's out of control, and she's trying to kill me! I need to see you as soon as you get back!"

Livia's eyes widened, but she waited until I'd finished my message. Then she took a deep breath. "I know it's been a tough week." She had no fucking clue. "We were both traumatized by the crash. Have you thought about, you know, talking to a professional?"

"Speak to a professional? A professional what? A quack? You think I'm cracking up?" I ran my hand through my hair over and over.

"No!" She put her palm up, trying to placate me like a dog or something. "Just–"

Click. Yellow. I felt my breath coming faster. "You don't believe me."

"I know your phone got messed up." Her fingers twisted together.

My knee bounced. "She crashed my fucking car, Livia."

Her eyes slid away. "I believe you that something happened–"

Click. Orange. "Don't forget about the Jumbotron." Faster. My knee bounced faster.

"I know you said that, but I didn't see–"

I spoke louder, over her. "And she's responsible for the roller coaster–"

"She's not, Wes." She cut me off, an edge to her voice. "It was an electrical malfunction."

"Caused by Polly!" I balled my hands, shoving them into my thighs.

"Jesus! Will you listen to yourself for just a moment?" Livia rubbed her temples. "What are you even staring at?"

"The aquarium! Polly keeps changing the color of the lights to fuck with me!"

Click.

Livia spun around. "It's still blue." She watched the fish for a moment. Still. Tense.

"Because she changed it right before you looked." My eyes darted around, waiting for something else to happen.

Livia turned back to me slowly, her face carefully flat. "Wes–"

"Listen, we can go to Max in your–"

"Wes. You need to–"

"This is all his fault. He can—"

"Wes!" she shouted. My mouth snapped shut. I ground my teeth. "I didn't come here to talk about the fucking bird!"

So she was breaking up with me? Fine. Wonderful. Whatever. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I just needed to convince her to help first. "Look, I know how it sounds, but you're not listening. I'm running out of money and I've been locked out of all of my accounts. I swear she's trying to kill me." The words tumbled out faster and faster. "It's been hell since the accident."

Livia raked her nails through her hair. "Look, I'm sorry you're having a mental breakdown, but you need to get your shit together!" She didn't sound sorry.

"I'm not having a mental breakdown!" Why wouldn't she just fucking listen?

She jumped to her feet. "Fine! Call it whatever you want, but I still have something to tell you."

"What could be more important than my life right now?" This better not be about Hannah. I hadn't even gotten the chance to ask.

Her chest heaved, eyes narrowed. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you."

Fuck, no. Polly wasn't lying about the two of them? "Spit it out."

She placed one palm over her stomach. "I'm pregnant."

Click. Red.

Word Count: 2663
Total: 25,924