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gave him access to one of my online bank accounts and all the accounts connected to it.”
    â€œAnd you just handed that stuff over to him?” Cynthia cried. “What the hell is wrong with you, Steph? Are you insane?”
    Dawn gave a rueful shake of the head. Her bob flapped in the breeze as she gazed sadly at her sister. “Never give a man the key to your financial security,” Dawn murmured, iterating one of the many Gibbons family golden rules on gold digging. “Stephanie, you know better!”
    â€œBut isn’t it like . . . encrypted?” Stephanie asked weakly. “I thought they don’t show the full account numbers.”
    â€œI guess not encrypted enough,” Lauren replied. “ He managed to get it.”
    â€œBut we don’t know that for sure!” Stephanie argued. “It couldn’t have been Isaac. It could easily have been someone else! He could be completely innocent!”
    â€œOh, come on!” Cynthia shouted, her hazel eyes blazing. “ Wake up! You don’t know this guy from Adam! He could be innocent . . . but he also could be the biggest hustler that ever lived! Besides, don’t you think it’s an odd damn coincidence that your money suddenly disappears when he gets access to your accounts?”
    â€œBut he’s rich! He doesn’t need my money! Plus, he made me five thousand dollars!” Stephanie countered, stomping her foot. “Why would he give me money just to take it back three days later? Why would he give me a car? Ask me to marry him? It doesn’t make any—”
    â€œOh, my Lord!” Dawn shouted, cutting them off. “Look!”
    They all turned their heads, following the direction that Dawn pointed. The sisters gawked, watching the scene unfold.
    A red tow truck detailed with flames and the sign H ENRY’S T OW 1-800-TRUK-YOU on its doors was in the parking lot. Isaac’s roadster was hitched to the back and being raised into the air. A burly man whom Stephanie presumed to be “Henry” stood beside the tow truck as Isaac’s one-hundred-thousand-dollar car was loaded onboard. The driver wore a crew cut and a ripped tank top that revealed a massive hairy chest and about twenty tattoos.
    Stephanie’s strength suddenly returned. She pulled her arms from her sisters’ grasp and bolted the last half block, running toward the truck.
    â€œWhat . . . What are you doing?” she yelled at the driver, fighting to be heard above the grating mechanical noise as the roadster was lifted. “Why are you taking that car?”
    He looked at her and gave a smile that was anything but friendly. “This your car, honey?” he drawled as he popped his gum, jabbing his fat thumb over his shoulder at the glistening roadster.
    â€œWell, yes, kinda . . . it’s my . . . my car now. My fiancé gave it to me!”
    â€œIs that right? Well, your car is bein’ repo’d for nonpayment.” He then shifted a few levers on the back of the tow truck, walked around the side, and opened the driver’s-side door. He hopped behind the wheel. “And if you know what’s good for you, don’t try anything. Just let your fiancé work it out with the loan company. You don’t wanna tango with me, baby!”
    He then shut the truck’s door and cranked the engine.
    Stephanie took a step back as the tow truck suddenly pulled off with a lurch. She watched, stunned, while Isaac’s roadster was carried off, drawing curious onlookers who milled about Main Street.
    Stephanie’s sisters gathered around her on the sidewalk.
    â€œDid that really just happen?” Dawn asked, still gaping.
    â€œYes, it did,” Lauren answered quietly. “Isaac’s car was repossessed.”
    â€œOh, hell, no!” Cynthia shouted. “Enough of this bullshit! Get Isaac on the phone, Steph! If you don’t track him down and beat the hell out of him, I sure as