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pulled inside the rusty gates and stopped in front of the small shack of an office. A black and gray sign dangling on its last hinge read OPEN 24 HRS.
    Ava would accompany her friend inside if she wanted her to.
    Rene opened the car door. “I’ll be back.”
    Guess not. The situation was probably embarrassing enough without Ava getting a front-row seat.
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    Rene’s steps quickened as she got closer to the office. She yanked the screen door open and marched in.
    A heavyset, middle-aged man with a white beard sat behind a shabby wooden desk. Switching his cigar to the other side of his mouth, he asked, “May I help you?”
    â€œUm, yes. I’m here to pick up a silver BMW. It was brought in sometime last night or early this morning. My name is Rene Jacobs.”
    He sifted through some papers on a clipboard. “Ah, yes. We have that beauty parked right up front a few rows over. I’ll need to see your proof of insurance and ID, get payment, and you can be on your way.”
    Tapping her toe on the floor, she unzipped her purse and pulled out her insurance and license. “How much will it cost to get it out?”
    â€œLet me see here.” He looked through the bottom of his glasses. “Three hundred and seven dollars.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m sorry, ma’am.” He removed the cigar and placed it in an ashtray. “But along with our fees, the apartments have fees, plus mileage and all. The signs were clear in the parking lot.”
    Rene caught herself. She didn’t want to get an attitude with him. It wasn’t his fault. Just get the car. “I know, sir. I’m just angry with the person who didn’t see the signs.” She smiled. “By the way, can you give me the address where my car was towed from?”
    â€œCertainly.” He flipped the top sheet over and studied the following page. “That would be 525 East County Road, Houston, Texas. It says here, right in front of building 3200.”
    â€œThank you. I appreciate it.” She handed him her credit card and thought about who Ishmael knew on the east side of town. Whoever it was, she had never been there with him.
    Ishmael would pay her every penny of the fees back, too. And he would never get the keys to her car again. If his piece of crap car broke down, he’d have to ask a homeboy or his mother to borrow theirs.
    After she signed the receipt, he handed her a copy. She scribbled the address he’d just given her on the back of her receipt.
    â€œAgain, Ms. Jacobs, about three or four rows over, right up front.” He pointed toward the back exit of the office. “You can go through this back door to the lot and when you pull up to the gate, I’ll let you out.” He saluted her with two fingers and a grin minus a few teeth, and reinserted the cigar to its rightful place.
    She forced a smile and then traveled through the short hallway to the back door.
    The smoldering sun glared down on all of the vehicles in the lot. Some cars were intact while others had damages ranging from minor bumps and bruises to more severe dents that made them almost unrecognizable.
    Rene spotted her car parked at the front of the fourth row. She strolled around each side of the car and inspected every inch of metal. When everything looked in place, she hit the unlock button on her key chain and got reacquainted with the interior.
    She drove to the front of the lot while looking over the seats and in the console for remnants of Ishmael’s previous night. A large cardboard box full of advertisements for the club took up most of the back seat. The same flyers he supposedly needed to pick up from Mike’s house. Ishmael had a great deal of explaining to do.
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    When the gate opened, Ava looked up from checking her text messages. Rene motioned for Ava to follow her. All seemed well, but Rene drove faster than usual down the busy street. Ava suspected the heavy