Chapter 3

"You have to drive us, Amy."

It was Kevin, on the phone again two days later. It wasn' t a request.

"My car' s in the shop, and Tiffany wants to go to the Woodbury outlets. It' s a pre-celebration."

"Why can' t you take an Uber?" I asked, looking at a pile of essays I needed to grade.

"Are you kidding? We can' t be seen in an Uber. We' re about to be wealthy. Image is everything. Tiffany' s been reading books about it."

He meant Tiffany had been watching TikToks from her MLM upline.

I sighed, but the sigh was for show. "Fine, Kevin. I' ll be there in an hour."

The entire drive, they talked about their new life. Kevin was planning to buy a boat. Tiffany was designing the walk-in closet for their main condo. My mother was debating whether to summer in the Hamptons or Martha' s Vineyard.

I just drove, nodding occasionally.

At the outlet mall, Tiffany made a beeline for the designer stores. She held up a gaudy handbag with a giant gold logo.

"What do you think?" she asked me, posing in front of a mirror. "Does this say 'wife of a millionaire' ?"

"It definitely says something," I said.

She took it as a compliment. At the register, the cashier announced the price. It was more than my monthly mortgage payment. Tiffany pulled out a credit card without flinching.

"It' s an investment in our brand," she declared, handing the card over.

The card was declined.

She didn' t miss a beat. She pulled out another. And another. The fourth one finally went through. The cashier shot me a look of pity. I just shrugged.

They dragged me from store to store. Kevin bought three pairs of overpriced sneakers. Brenda bought a hideous fur-trimmed coat. Tiffany filled shopping bags with clothes and accessories, all on credit. With every swipe of a card, I could almost hear the interest clock ticking.

"You' ll look like a real CEO' s wife, Tiffany," I said, watching her preen with a new pair of sunglasses. "You deserve it."

Her face lit up. "See, Kevin? Amy gets it. You have to spend money to make money."

She put her arm around my shoulders, a rare gesture of affection that felt completely fake.

"You know, Amy, when the money comes in, we' ll help you out. We won' t forget you. We could probably hire you to tutor Jayden or something. Keep you busy."

"Thanks, Tiffany," I said. "That' s really generous."

On the way to the car, their arms loaded with glossy shopping bags, Kevin pointed to the luxury car dealership across the street.

"That' s next," he said. "A new Escalade. Black on black."

"Don' t forget the custom rims," Tiffany added.

I watched them, lost in their fantasy, a fantasy they were building on a mountain of debt. And I, the quiet, "boring" schoolteacher, was their chauffeur, their audience, their silent accomplice.

I was helping them dig the hole. And it was getting deeper by the minute.