The extra money would help catch up on a few bills that had fallen behind. Even though I didn't mind working for my keep, when I heard who it was for, I scowled. I was less than thrilled, but when it came down to cash, it all spends the same. I studied the number on the paper, trying to decide whether to call her tonight or in the morning. It was the lady from Dad's office I'd seen earlier. She was like a crocodile scavenging for her next meal. The very one who drove the BMW that almost took me off the road. I decided it was probably better to get it over with. I dialed her number and waited. She didn't pick up, so I left a voice mail. “Hey, this is Ryder Bishop. My dad gave me your number. He said you need some work done. Give me a call back and we can discuss the project you had in mind.” Barbara Johnson, the name wasn't familiar, but then again neither was her face when I saw her earlier. What was her story? Did she like going into towns and crushing people's hopes and dreams?
