"I'm broke." The red number staring at her from the computer screen burned into her eyes. "I'm worse than broke. Sam. I'm in...great financial liability."

Debt. A common word, but one Raelyn Jasper considered to be worse than the f-bomb.

Her roommate scoffed from across the apartment, eye glued on the television. "I told you to take out a loan!"

Rae's head dropped into her hands. "Loan" wasn't quite the f-bomb, but it still turned her stomach into a chunky slushie. "A loan isn't part of the plan."

"Well, then, screw the plan."

"I can't screw the plan! It's the plan. Besides, I'm a social work major. I'll never be able to pay that back." Rae jumped up and began pacing the length of their tiny Chicago apartment. She crossed in front of the television and Sam whipped the remote at her, smacking her in the side.

"Hey!" Sam snapped, pointed to the flickering screen. "The game's on. And watching Jayson Tatum is my plan."

Rae huffed and sat back down, rummaging through the bowl of pretzels in front of her, clicking her pen anxiously while drilling a hole in the drywall with her panicked gaze.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Boston's losing anyway. Five minutes." She clicked off the screen. "How are you in debt?"

Rae flinched at the word. "You know that scholarship my financial advisor was telling me about?" Sam nodded. "It fell through. The philanthropist decided to give the money to the University of Chicago instead of Loyola."

Sam pretended to gag. "Why? That place is a cesspool. Especially the—"

"Lacrosse team," Rae finished for her. "If it's any consolation, I now hate UC as well."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Including the lacrosse team?"

"Especially the lacrosse team."

Sam nodded, content with her roommate's hatred. "You work fulltime. Does that not cover classes?"

Rae shook her head, turning back to her laptop. "It'll cover classes if I don't pay rent. It'll cover rent if I don't pay classes." Rae's fingers flew across the keyboard. "I can get on the payment plan if I enroll tonight. At least that will delay the inevitable." She leaned back, snatching a pen and chewing on the end. "I could get another job."

Sam groaned, stood, and snatched the pen from her mouth. "First, don't ruin your teeth. Second, you barely have time to sleep." She sat on the barstool next to Rae. "Why don't you just drop a class?"

Rae's eyebrows shot up. "And miss graduation? Then I'd have to pay another semester of rent for a single class. That will put me even deeper into my financial liability. Besides, my aunt already took the week off work to drive up."

"You know what you need to do?"

Rae perked up.

"Donate plasma with me."

Rae's smile vanished. "No way."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Hear me out. You'll get a sweet sign-up bonus. It's literally passive income. We can sign up during your lunch break—"

"No way." Rae shivered. "I hate blood."

Sam opened her mouth to convince her again, but her phone began to ring. She leapt over the back of the couch and flicked on the TV. "Five minutes are up." She threw up her hands, shouting at the screen. "And Boston is down! What are you doing!?"

Rae took a deep breath and stared at the red numbers mocking her. She needed cash. She needed it now. At least until she figured something else out. She had to stay on track. She took a deep breath. "Sam?"

Sam kept her eyes on the screen. "What's up, chica?"

"How much was that sign-on bonus?"

&&&

"That was... not part of the plan." Jimmy's voice wheezed past his heavy breaths. His breath puffed out in the cold night air.

Dominic smirked and glanced back at the middle-aged Italian. "My father didn't warn you?" He quieted as two men ran past their hiding place in the alley.

Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, but Dominic swung into the alleyway and jumped into the back of the delivery truck, sliding silently between plastic pallets of bread. He heard Jimmy jumped up behind him, ambling heavily into the recesses of the truck.

Dominic glanced over his shoulder. "You don't have to follow me."

"You father...put me in charge," Jimmy protested.

Dominic chuckled. "Sure he did." He dug through the last pallet, shoving loaves of Wonder Bread onto the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" He tossed a loaf at Jimmy. "What Italian restaurant buys Wonder Bread?"

Jimmy shrugged, checking over their shoulder. They were alone; the two men had disappeared down the road. "Cheap ones."

Dominic lifted the next pallet and reached his hand into the cavity inside. His hand landed on a plastic packet, and he pulled it out, tossing it to Jimmy. "Tell me if that's the cheap stuff."

Jimmy flipped the bag of blood in his hands. He leaned in and inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Dominic grabbed the other five bags nestled among the glutenous loaves and slid them into his backpack. He then snatched the bag out of Jimmy's hands.

"Hey!" Jimmy lurched for the bag before Dominic pulled it back. "I'm in charge." Jimmy's amour-induced anger faded into fear as shouts echoed down the alleyway.

Dominic huffed and slid past the middle-aged Italian man. "You still want to be in charge?" Jimmy shook his head vigorously as the shouts closed in on the truck. "Use your words, Jimmy."

"You're in charge, Dom. You're in charge," he babbled, reaching for the gun he had tucked into his waistband.

Dominic pulled the knife from his waistband. "Glad we have that established."

Jimmy looked at him, nervous sweat already loosing his grip on his pistol. "What's the plan, boss?"

"My father didn't warn you?" Dominic smiled, his teeth glinting in the dim light. "I don't do plans."