Chapter 4

I stood there for five minutes, but she just ignored me.

Finally, I pulled out my phone, opened the camera, and started taking pictures of her.

That's when she started to panic.

"What are you taking pictures of?" she snapped.

"I'm just getting proof," I replied.

"Alright, alright, I'm leaving, okay? Geez, what's your deal? You act like using a bit of water is a crime."

She packed up her things and stomped off, grumbling and cursing as she went.

The water meter showed another two tons used.

Saturday was absolutely wild.

When I left in the morning, the garage entrance was spotless. But when I came back at noon, three cars were blocking my driveway.

There was Mrs. Wilkins's white SUV, Tina's gray Honda, and a red car I'd never seen before.

Mrs. Wilkins, Tina, Anna, and some stranger were all crowded around my car washer, busy messing with it.

Tina was washing her car, and soap suds were pouring off the roof, making it look like a snowstorm had hit the driveway.

Anna was rinsing out floor mats, five or six of them, all sizes, spread out everywhere.

The new girl was cleaning kids' toys, plastic ducks, water guns, sand buckets, she had them all lined up in a row.

But Mrs. Wilkins was the wildest. She dragged her own carpet over, laid it out, and went to town on it with the pressure washer.

"Mrs. Wilkins, isn't this a bit much?" I said.

"What's so bad about it? I'm just cleaning my rug. It's not like I haven't paid you," she retorted.

"When did you ever pay me?" I asked.

"Didn't I give you a hundred bucks last time?" she replied.

"That hundred you threw on the ground? That was a month ago, Mrs. Wilkins," I said.

"So what do you want then? Another hundred?" Mrs. Wilkins shot back.

She pulled out some cash and flashed it at me on purpose.

"No thanks," I replied.

"Then stop complaining," Mrs. Wilkins said.

I didn't say anything. Just turned around and walked off.

I wasn't backing down, I just didn't feel like wasting my breath arguing with her.

That night, I checked the security footage and almost passed out from rage.

Tina didn't just wash her car, she even dragged over her metal cat cage and used my pressure washer to spray off cat poop.

On the footage, you could clearly see litter, cat hair, and poop scattered everywhere, streaming down the driveway slope.

The whole group was cracking up, bragging about how powerful the pressure washer was and how spotless everything turned out.

Anna even washed her kid's backpack, she let it soak and scrubbed it forever.

The new girl went above and beyond; she actually took apart her kitchen exhaust fan filter and used my car washer to blast the grease right off.

The four of them messed around from two in the afternoon until five-thirty, leaving all three cars sparkling, the floor mats and carpets spotless, and the toys and backpacks fresh as new.

My garage entrance looked like it had been hit by a flood.

I glanced at the water meter.

In just two days, they'd used eight tons of water.

David, standing nearby, said, "Want me to go talk to her?"

"No need," I replied.

"So what are we gonna do?" David asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

I turned off my phone and leaned back on the couch.

Soon.

On Monday, the flower shop was running a special event, and I was so busy I barely had time to breathe.

I worked nonstop from eight in the morning until ten at night, didn't even get a chance to take a sip of water.

By the time I got home, I felt like I was about to fall apart.

With my bag in hand, I headed toward the garage, and even from a distance, I could tell something was definitely wrong.

The entrance to my garage was shining bright, not from the lights, but from water.

Water was spilling out from where the car washer sat, flooding the ground and spreading into the walkway, reflecting the light.

As I got closer, I saw the hose on the car washer was broken clean off, the connector was torn right off, and the faucet was bent sideways, water shooting everywhere.

The ground was completely flooded, and the carpet at my garage entrance was soaked and puffed up like a big steamed bun. When I stepped on it, water squelched out with every press.

I quickly turned off the main valve by the water meter, and only then did the water finally stop.

I crouched down for a closer look. The connector hadn't broken on its own, it had been yanked off by force. The plastic joint was cracked clean through, and the break was fresh.

I pulled out my phone and checked the security footage.

At 3:10 PM, Mrs. Wilkins showed up again with her crew.

This time, there weren't three cars, just Tina in her gray Honda.

Mrs. Wilkins got there first, set up her buckets, and filled two buckets with water.

Then Tina pulled up, parked, and started washing her car.

About twenty minutes in, Tina was spraying the wheels when her hand slipped and the spray gun dropped to the ground. She bent down to pick it up, accidentally stepped on the hose, lost her balance, and stumbled forward. Instinctively, she grabbed for anything to steady herself, and ended up yanking the hose connector right off.

With a loud snap, the connector broke off.

Water shot out from the break, soaking her pant leg.

"Oh crap, it's broken!" Tina shouted.

Mrs. Wilkins hurried over, her brows furrowed.

"How did this happen?" she demanded.

"My foot slipped and I accidentally pulled it off," Tina replied.

The group gathered around, checking out the busted connector and the hose spraying water all over the place.

Anna said, "Now what?"

Mrs. Wilkins snapped, "Just shut it off, that's all."

Tina grumbled, "Yeah, but how? I don't even know how to do it."

They all looked at each other, but nobody bothered to do anything.

Mrs. Wilkins just waved it off. "Forget it, we're pretty much done here. Let's get out of here."

"But the water's still running, what should we do?" Anna asked.

"Whatever, who cares? It's not coming out of our pocket," Mrs. Wilkins shrugged.

Tina hesitated, looking uneasy. "Should we really just leave it like this?"