“I’m just down the block,” Dane says. “Look to your right. Do you see me?”
It takes a few seconds, but I finally spot him about a hundred yards down the way, waving his hands.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I got ya.”
I hang up the pho
ne and start walking.
When I come close enough to see the car, I’m a little disappointed. He said he had a car waiting for me. I had just assumed that meant he’d gone all out and gotten a town car or something with a driver.
It’s not the car itself that bothers me, it’s the fact that we won’t be able to focus on each other during the drive, not completely.
After everything that’s gone right over the past few weeks, I know how ungrateful I’m being right now. That said, the foreknowledge of this relationship’s end is more than enough to spoil just about anything.
I really had high hopes for me and Dane.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he says as I approach.
“Hey yourself,” I answer, and give him a peck on the lips. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”
“Well,” he says, “I wanted to do something special for you, but I was having the hardest time figuring out exactly what.”
“And?” I ask, unable to hold back a smile any longer.
“I came up with absolutely nothing,” he says with a laugh. “So, I figured, why not rent a car? That way we can let the evening take us where it will.”
“All right,” I say skeptically. “You do know how to drive, don’t you?”
“Of course I know how to drive,” he says, opening the passenger’s door. “Just fucking get in the car, will you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I smile.
A minute later and we’re on the road; well, kind of. I don’t know if there’s a game or something, but traffic seems to be extra heavy tonight.
Eventually, we transcend major gridlock and arrive in minor gridlock.
“What kind of music do you like?” he asks.
“I like a little bit of everything,” I tell him.
“Oh, bullshit,” he says. “Everyone says that, but it’s never true.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” I ask, poking him in the ribs.
“No,” he says, “but I am saying you’re full of shit.”
“Pick a station,” he says. “From what I understand, this vehicle is fully equipped with satellite radio, and if you can figure out how to work it, we can listen to whatever you want.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to regret that,” I tell him.
“You know,” he says, “so do I, but I’m pretty sure I’ll survive.”
I’ve never used satellite radio, but it’s not rocket science. I roll through the stations until I land on a death metal song.
I smile and turn up the volume.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asks.