A figure stepped out from behind a parked delivery truck, looking distinctly sheepish.
"Okay, so apparently my stealth skills need a lot more work than I thought," Maria, the lady who had just gotten her car impounded, said, brushing imaginary dust off her workout clothes.
"In my defense, I was trying to stay far enough back that you wouldn't notice, but close enough that I could help if something went wrong."
Charley stared at her, surprise and relief washing over him. "You followed me?"
"Look, I know we just met, but you got mugged by a psychopath with a knife, your mom's in the hospital needing surgery, and you're wandering around sketchy neighborhoods at dawn. Someone needs to watch your back."
'She followed a complete stranger through dangerous streets because she was worried about his safety,' Charley realized.
Either she was genuinely caring, or she had ulterior motives he couldn't figure out. Or just very very stupid.
But looking at her face—the genuine worry in her dark eyes, the way she kept glancing around like she was planning escape routes—his instincts told him she was exactly what she appeared to be.
"I appreciate the concern, but this situation is… complicated."
"How complicated? Because I heard you tell that clerk you needed eighteen thousand, and she said they could only do five. That's math with a very unhappy ending."
Charley studied her face, weighing his options. He needed help, and Maria had already proven she was willing to take risks for strangers. More importantly, she seemed street smart in a way that suggested she knew how the world actually worked.
'She's already involved,' he reasoned. 'Her car got impounded because she helped me.'
"Here's the situation," he said finally. "I have access to significant money, but there are technical limitations on how I can access it. I can make one large purchase per day, but I can't get cash directly. So I need to convert a large credit card transaction into immediate cash."
Maria's eyebrows rose. "That sounds like money laundering."
"It's legitimate funds from a specialized account. A corporate expense account with usage restrictions. I need to find a business that needs immediate cash flow—offer to make a large purchase through their system in exchange for a fee."
Charley warmed to his explanation. "Small businesses always have cash flow problems. They need immediate cash for payroll, rent, suppliers. If I can offer instant working capital for a reasonable fee, it's win-win."
"You're basically offering to be their cash advance service," Maria said thoughtfully. "That's actually smart. But you need somewhere that handles large cash transactions regularly."
"Exactly. It needs to be a business where cash transactions are normal and large amounts don't raise eyebrows."
"A casino," Maria said quietly.
Charley turned to look at her. "You know a casino?"
"My uncle runs cash operations at a place downtown. Family connection. But it's not exactly the kind of place you want to visit unless you absolutely have to."
——-
Two hours later, outside the Riverside Casino…
"So that's a definitive no," Maria said, leaning against a streetlight with the expression of someone who'd watched all their hopes die slowly.
"Uncle Tony couldn't help, the payment processors won't touch your card, and anything outside legitimate channels involves people who collect debts with crowbars."
Charley stared at the Divine Black Card like it had personally betrayed him. The casino's financial systems had rejected it immediately—no bank verification possible, too many regulatory red flags.
"I can't believe it," he muttered. 'I have unlimited money, and I can't spend it anywhere that matters!'
His analytical mind kicked into gear, running through what few options remained.
Option One:
Withdraw maybe $3,000-5,000 from the cash checking place, return to hospital with good faith deposit, negotiate payment plan for remainder.
Probability of success: 85%. Hospitals did this for emergencies.
Option Two:
Buy expensive items online, immediately resell for cash. Probability of success: 25%. Too many variables could go wrong.
Option Three: Underground Financial Services
Find loan sharks who'd accept the card as collateral. Probability of success: 60% for immediate cash. 100% chance of danger if anything went wrong.
The mathematics were clear. Option One was the only realistic choice. At least for now.
"I need to go back to the hospital," Charley said finally. "Try to work out a payment plan with whatever cash I can get from the cash checking place."
"That's probably smart," Maria agreed. "Better to get your mom into surgery now and figure out the rest later."
"You don't have to come with me," Charley said. "You've already done more than enough."
"I'll walk you back. After everything that's happened tonight, you shouldn't be alone."
———
Forty-five minutes later, St. Mary's Hospital Financial Services Office…
Charley sat across from Patricia Reeves, the hospital's Director of Patient Financial Services, with $5,100 in cash spread across her desk—the maximum he'd been able to withdraw.
Patricia was a woman in her fifties with kind but tired eyes, the bearing of someone who'd had countless difficult conversations with desperate families.
Her office was functional rather than fancy—motivational posters about teamwork, a coffee mug that read "World's Okayest Administrator," and stacks of files that spoke to the endless paperwork of medical billing.
"Mr. Dunst," Patricia said, reviewing the paperwork Dr. Martinez had sent down. "I understand your mother needs emergency angioplasty with stent placement. The total cost is $18,500 before insurance processing."
"Yes, ma'am. And I know that's a significant amount."
"It is. Now, I see you've brought $5,100 in cash as a down payment. That's… well, it's something, but it's not quite the substantial deposit we typically require for this level of procedure."
Charley leaned forward, trying to project confidence he didn't feel. "Mrs. Reeves, I understand this isn't ideal, but my mother doesn't have time for insurance pre-authorization. Dr. Martinez says every minute counts with this type of blockage."
"I appreciate the urgency, Mr. Dunst, but the hospital has policies—"
"I can guarantee the full payment within 48 hours," Charley interrupted. "I'm a business consultant, and I have funds tied up in client accounts that I can access tomorrow. This isn't a situation where we're hoping insurance will cover it—I can and will pay the full amount."
Patricia studied his face carefully. "What kind of business consulting?"
"Digital systems and financial software implementation. I work with mid-size companies on technology upgrades."
The lie came easier now, backed by his genuine technical knowledge. "The issue is that my largest client payment is processing tomorrow, and I can't access those funds until the transfer clears."
"I see. And what assurance can you provide beyond your verbal commitment?"
Charley pulled out his newly created business cards and the paperwork for Dunst Digital Solutions LLC.
"Here's my business documentation. I registered the LLC last week and I've been building my client base. I can provide references, contracts, whatever you need to verify my ability to pay."
Patricia examined the business cards with professional skepticism. "Mr. Dunst, I want to help you, but $5,100 against an $18,500 procedure… that's barely twenty eight percent. Our policy typically requires at least fifty percent down for elective procedures."
"This isn't elective," Charley said firmly. "This is emergency surgery. Dr. Martinez called it the 'widow maker' blockage."
"You're right about the medical urgency," Patricia conceded. "But the financial reality doesn't change. Even for emergency procedures, we need reasonable assurance of payment."
Charley felt desperation creeping into his voice. "What if I could provide additional collateral? I could sign over business assets, future receivables—"
"Mr. Dunst, I can see you're trying to do right by your mother, and I respect that. But a one-week-old LLC with no established revenue doesn't provide the kind of security the hospital needs for this amount."
"Then what are my options? Because my mother is upstairs dying while we argue about paperwork."
Patricia's expression softened. "We can start the charity care application process. It takes 72 to 96 hours for approval, but if your income qualifies—"
"She doesn't have 72 hours!"
"I understand your frustration. The other option is transfer to County General Hospital. They have different payment policies for indigent care, but…"
She paused, clearly uncomfortable. "The level of cardiac care there isn't quite the same standard as what we offer here."
Charley felt the walls closing in. County General was where people went to die while waiting for better care!
"Mrs. Reeves, please. There has to be something. Some kind of emergency protocol—"
"Mr. Dunst, I wish I could—"
A soft chime from Patricia's computer interrupted her. She glanced at her screen, and her eyebrows shot up.
"That's… unusual," she murmured, clicking through what appeared to be several system screens.
"What is it?"
Patricia stared at her monitor for a moment longer, then looked up at Charley with confusion written across her face.
"Mr. Dunst, I'm showing that payment for your mother's procedure has just been processed. Full amount. $18,500."
Charley felt the world tilt sideways. "What? That's impossible. I didn't authorize any payment."
"According to our system, payment was processed at 4:47 AM and in cash. The transaction shows as completed and verified."
Patricia clicked through more screens. "This is definitely your mother's account. Margaret Dunst, room 314."
"But I didn't pay anything! I am clearly not with that much cash!"
"The payment shows as coming from…" Patricia paused, reading from her screen. "Miss Maria Rodriguez."
Charley's mind reeled. Maria? Maria?!
Patricia picked up her phone. "Dr. Martinez? This is Patricia in Financial Services. Yes, we can proceed with Margaret Dunst's surgery immediately. Payment has been received in full."
She hung up and smiled at Charley. "Your mother will be in surgery within the hour. The cardiac team is being assembled now."
But even as relief flooded through him that his mother would get the surgery she needed, a stifling emotion was building in his chest.
There was only one entity he could think of that had that name and knew his current situation.
His eyes widened as the implications hit him.
"I… I need to go," Charley said, standing up abruptly.
"Mr. Dunst? Is everything alright? Your mother's surgery—"
"Will proceed. Thank you, Mrs. Reeves. Thank you for everything."
Charley bolted from the office, his mind racing.
The question was: how had Maria gotten her hands on so much cash?