The next four hours were a bureaucratic nightmare that made Charley question whether saving his life had been worth it.
The police treated the incident with the thorough seriousness of a federal investigation. Crime scene tape went up around the woman's Honda.
Photos were taken from seventeen different angles. Statements were recorded, re-recorded, and cross-referenced with security footage from three different cameras.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step away from the vehicle," Officer Rodriguez told the woman for the fourth time. "It's evidence now."
"Evidence of what? I hit a pickpocket who ran into traffic!"
"Evidence of vehicular assault, reckless endangerment, and possible vigilante justice," Rodriguez replied with the enthusiasm of someone who'd found the most interesting thing to happen on his shift in months.
The pickpocket had regained consciousness and was milking his injuries for maximum sympathy, claiming he couldn't remember anything about stealing wallets but had vivid recollections of being "deliberately targeted by a crazy woman in a death machine."
By the time they finished processing everything, the woman's car was on a tow truck heading to the police impound lot, and the sun was beginning to hint at dawn on the horizon.
"So that's it?" she asked, watching her Honda disappear down the street. "My car's gone for who knows how long because I helped someone?"
"Seven to ten business days for processing," Officer Rodriguez said cheerfully. "You can pick it up after we close the investigation."
The woman stared after the tow truck with the expression of someone reconsidering their life choices.
"I'm really sorry," Charley said as they started walking away from the scene. "Part of this is my fault."
"It's not your fault that guy was a professional pickpocket," she replied, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. "But I have to ask—what were you doing walking around this neighborhood at 3 AM?"
Charley glanced at her sideways. The woman looked even more attractive in the pre-dawn light, which seemed physically impossible but was somehow true.
She was beautiful in a way that made his brain temporarily short-circuit. Not magazine perfect, but real and warm and dangerously attractive.
Her workout clothes clung to curves that spoke of hours in the gym, and her hair had escaped its ponytail during the chaos, framing a face with high cheekbones and lips that looked incredibly soft and kissable.
'Focus, you idiot,' Charley commanded himself as his thoughts started wandering in directions that weren't appropriate for someone he'd just met.
'Your mother is dying and you're thinking about how good this stranger looks in yoga pants.'
But it was hard to focus when Maria was studying him with her gorgeous dark eyes that seemed to see everything.
"Family emergency," he said softly. "My mom's in the hospital. Heart surgery. They need cash upfront."
"How much cash?"
"Enough to buy a car."
She stopped walking. "Jesus. That's… that's a lot of money. Does she have insurance? Do you have family who can help? Friends?"
"It's complicated."
"Well, I don't have that kind of money, but maybe I could help in other ways? I know some people who might—"
"Thanks, but I've got it handled," Charley said quickly. The last thing he needed was this gorgeous stranger getting more involved in his supernatural financial crisis.
He had too much pride for that.
'Ask for her number,' his brain suggested helpfully. 'She just sacrificed her car to save your life. That's either true love or severe mental illness, and either way, you should probably get her contact information.'
But even as the thought crossed his mind, Charley knew it was the wrong time.
His mother was dying. He had a magic credit card that might be his only salvation. And he was standing on a street corner at dawn looking like he'd been mugged by a professional pickpocket, which was exactly what had happened.
'Yeah, that's a great foundation for a relationship,' he thought sarcastically.
'Hey, want to date a guy who works at a puppet shop and carries mysterious cards through dangerous neighborhoods? I promise the federal investigation into my finances will die down eventually.'
"I should go," he said. "But thank you. For everything. I owe you more than I can repay."
She looked like she wanted to say something else, but just nodded. "Take care of yourself. And your mom."
Charley walked away, trying not to think about how much he wanted to turn around and ask for her number. Some opportunities came at the worst possible times.
-----
Forty-five minutes later, Charley stood in the fluorescent-lit wasteland of Quick Cash Express, staring in horror at the tired clerk behind bulletproof glass.
"Five thousand?" he repeated. "That's your maximum cash advance?"
The woman nodded with the patience of someone who explained basic limitations to desperate people on a nightly basis. "Five thousand per transaction, per day, per customer. Company policy."
Charley felt his carefully constructed plan crumble like a house of cards in an earthquake.
Five thousand dollars. He needed eighteen thousand five hundred, and the card only worked once per day!
'So let me get this straight,' he thought, his internal monologue taking on the tone of a man having a conversation with a particularly unhelpful deity.
'I have unlimited money, but I can only access it in installments over the course of four days. My mother needs surgery tonight, not next Tuesday.'
The clerk was watching him with the expression of someone who'd seen this exact realization dawn on many faces before.
"Sir? Did you want to proceed with the five thousand, or…?"
Charley stared at the Divine Black Card in his hand. For a moment, he considered withdrawing the five thousand anyway. It would be something. A down payment. Proof of good faith.
But then his strategic mind kicked in.
'If I use the card now for five thousand, I can't use it again until tomorrow night. That means I'm locked into a four-day payment plan, assuming this place even exists tomorrow night, assuming they don't get suspicious about me coming back repeatedly, assuming nothing goes wrong with any of the transactions.'
The limitations of his miracle were becoming painfully clear. The card gave him unlimited money, but only under very specific constraints that made it nearly useless in actual emergencies.
'What's the point of having unlimited money if you can only access it one drop at a time?' he thought bitterly. 'It's like having a fire hose that only works at a drip. Technically infinite water, but good luck putting out any actual fires.'
The clerk was still waiting, her expression growing more impatient by the second.
"Sir?"
"No," Charley said finally. "I need to think about this."
He turned to leave, his mind already racing through alternatives. There had to be another way. Some loophole, some strategy, some angle he hadn't considered yet.
'Think, Charley. You're supposed to be smart. How do you turn one large transaction into eighteen thousand five hundred in cash without waiting four days?'
The answer hit him like lightning.
It was risky, it was complex, and it would definitely draw unwanted attention to him. The kind of attention he was desperately hoping to avoid for the time being.
But for his mother…
He would do anything.
Charley stepped out of the building, smirking for the first time in hours.
"You can come out now," he said to the shadows near the door.