My chauffer’s name is Charlie, and he’s from Kentucky. He’s driving his uncle’s rig, since his uncle broke his leg playing street hockey. I can’t figure out if that’s a euphemism for something.
I let Charlie ramble and blush and stammer. He’s really a sweetheart. Once we’re ten miles out, he stops for some food and drinks. I slurp on a huge tub of soda and watch him drive.
“So, Charlie.” I draw out his name, infusing it with the kind of sultry sound that earns me double the tips at the Grand. “Do you have a girl back home?”
“N-no,” he says, and I believe him. At least, I believe he doesn’t have the girl. But he wants one.
“What’s her name?”
“Alyssa,” he says, then turns beet red. A-freaking-dorable. “But I’m not—we’re not—”
“It’s okay, Charlie. I understand. Unrequited love is a bitch.” I understand more than I want to. People act like love is a gift, but it’s not. It’s theft. It’s a goddamn tragedy.
Love is losing a vital organ to a man who will never give his in return.
Charlie studies the black expanse, dotted with red and white and yellow. “I figure if I can get my own rig, she might look at me different.”
“Older or younger?” I ask.
“She’s older,” he says. “But I don’t mind.”
“Of course you don’t,” I assure him. He prefers it, actually. “And what does she do for a living?”
If I thought he was red before, now he is an actual tomato. “She’s a…well, she’s a stripper. But she doesn’t, you know. It’s not like that.”
Oh dear. I have a feeling I know exactly what it’s like. Alyssa does her job very well. That’s what it’s like. “Well, I don’t know Alyssa, but I’m absolutely sure that one day you will find the perfect woman for you. One who loves you. One who understands you. One who will tell you exactly what to do to please her.”
His eyes grew wide, a mixture of shock and arousal swirling in his light brown eyes. “You really think so?”
I’m saved by having to reply by the earsplitting whoop of a siren. A second later blue and red lights bounce off the tall columns of rearview mirrors on either side.
“Shit,” Charlie says, fumbling for the blinker. “I wasn’t even speeding.”
I narrow my eyes at the cruiser as we pull over, bouncing on the rough interstate shoulder. “I don’t think they’re here for you.”
“Oh fuck,” Charlie breathes. “Are you in trouble? Should we make a run for it?”
I soften. “Charlie, you’ll make a really amazing boyfriend one day. And to do that, you need to not be dead. So no, don’t make a run for anything. Just sit there and do whatever the cops say.”
We don’t have to wait long. The cop that comes up to the window is familiar. He shines his flashlight inside, taking in both of us. At least he doesn’t flash it in my eyes. “Good evening,” he says in that drawl of his. I really hate that fucking drawl.
“It’s morning,” I say, annoyed. “Aren’t we a little outside your jurisdiction, Officer?”
He just smiles. Creep.
That’s the thing about bribing cops. All the ones who’ll accept bribes are total assholes. “I’m outta here,” I say, blowing a kiss to Charlie. “You go ahead.”
His mouth is open. “But—”
I smile and slam the door against his bewildered expression. It would only be worse for him if he hung around. Officer Asshole bangs the door and tells him to drive away. When he’s back in the flow of traffic, I start walking.
“Hey,” Officer Asshole shouts. “Where are you going?”
I shoot him the finger and keep walking.
Chapter Fourteen
Ivan shows up an hour later. I’m simultaneously annoyed that he took this long and annoyed that he showed up at all. The limo pulls to a stop a few hundred feet ahead of me, leaving me with the awkward choice of walking straight toward him or turning around.