Not a cent

As you finished the drink, you suddenly remembered something awful.

You have no money.

You approach the owner of the store apologizing profusely, and explaining that you couldn't find your wallet.

The brown man looked at you slyly.

"You can pay me in other ways."

"Please, I can run home and pay you back," you say, not willing to be taken advantage of a third time today.

"I can call the cops instead."

You could feel dread in your stomach at the thought of the cops. You didn't have an ID, any family to call on, and you didn't want to be locked up in county jail until you turned back.

"Fiiinnee," you stutter, already knowing what the leering owner was after.

"Well then do you want to go to the back or come behind the register," the old Indian man said.