Madison Blake's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

Madison sat at the bar with her phone in one hand and the glove still upstairs on her mind. The contractor's second payment was due Thursday at noon. Scarlett's call time was Thursday at six. The bank would not release a dollar without a proper invoice, and the contractor had sent nothing but a scrawled total on a napkin. She called him at seven in the morning. He answered from a job site, saw blade running behind his voice. "I need a real invoice," Madison said. "Itemized. Header. Your business name. Hours, rate, materials. The bank won't take anything less." "I don't do paperwork," he said. "You want the room, you pay the man." "I want to pay you. I can't pay you without the paper." He went quiet. The saw stopped. "Send me a template," he said. "I'll fill it in on lunch." Madison had no template. Harper was at the accountant's until three. Victoria was in a meeting she would not leave for a phone call. Madison opened her laptop on the bar and searched until she found a blank contractor invoice form, clean header, ruled lines, columns for hours, rate, materials, amount. She printed two copies and drove them to the job site herself. She found him on a ladder. She held the pages up like a summons. "Fill it out here," she said. "I'll wait." He climbed down. He wiped his hands on his jeans and sat on an overturned bucket. Madison read him his own numbers off the napkin while he wrote. Framing hours. Plumbing tie-in. Vanity install. Bulbs, cabinet, door. Materials line. Labor line. Total at the bottom. He signed it. She signed under Client. She drove straight to the bank. The teller took the invoice, read every line, and slid it to the manager. The manager checked the signature against the card on file. He stamped it. He cut the release. Madison walked the cashier's check to the contractor herself and put it in his hand at two in the afternoon. He folded it into his shirt pocket. "Room's yours," he said. "We're done." She drove back to the club. She climbed the stairs to the dressing room and stood in the doorway. The glove sat exactly where Scarlett had left it. She did not touch it. She flicked on the vanity bulbs and saw the warm-white light she had promised to change. Harper met her at the office door with the ledger open. The invoice was cleared. The contractor was paid. The build was closed. "You've got sixty-two dollars left in the account," Harper said. "And Scarlett's daylight bulbs aren't ordered. She's here in twenty-eight hours." Madison set the stamped invoice on the desk and reached for her keys.