I have a feeling he’s going to be waiting a long time.
6
Tanner
The lady behind the counter at the car rental agency stands taller and smiles brightly as soon as she hears the door chime announcing my presence. It’s almost as if she thinks I’m going to fall for her in the time it takes to complete the transaction on my rental and take her with me tonight. I suppose it’s not every day they see a man walk in dressed in a tux walking in to rent a car, yet here I am. The thought never occurred to me until I climbed into my Wrangler that while my car may be fun, some call it sexy, it is not a vehicle you take a woman to a gala in.
“How may I help you?” she tilts her head to the side.
“I need to rent a car for the night.”
“Just the night?” she pushes their laminated spec sheet toward me. They have everything from what I refer to as a human roller skate to the stranger danger van.
“Yes, I’ll return it tomorrow. Do you have any luxury vehicles?” I ask, pushing the placard back toward the desk agent.
“What are you interested in?” she starts typing rapidly as if she’s chatting on social media. There’s no way a six-letter word could take more than five seconds to type.
“Lambo,” I tell her.
Her eyes go wide and her fingers stop their aerobic routine. “Lamborghini?” As if saying the full word takes the sting out of the cost. Honestly, I don’t care what the price tag is, I want Sophie showing up in style, and hopefully right in front of her douche bag ex.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, well we have two in stock. White or yellow?”
I think for a moment. White seems practical. Yellow sends a message. “Yellow.” I reach into my back pocket for my wallet and pull out my driver’s license and credit card. The clerk takes them from me and starts typing again, making me wonder if she ever gets tired of listening to her nails clack against the keys.
While the clerk finalizes my request, I glance at my phone, hoping to find a message from Sophie. Earlier, I asked her what she was wearing for the ball, and she sent me a picture of something red. I have no idea if it’s from her dress for tonight or what she was wearing at the time. The rest of my pleading messages went unanswered, which I’m okay with. I know she spent the afternoon with Ellie, getting her hair and nails done. I told my sister to make sure Sophie went all out. If I have my say, every woman will be jealous of her and every man of me, especially the man who thought he’d have it better with his dental hygienist.
Even though I’ve been here for ten minutes, my impatience is growing. I hate being late, even if it’s only a few minutes. I told Sophie I would be there at six to pick her up and I’m an hour plus away from her. Of course, I could’ve rented a Mustang or something similar, but no, I wanted Sophie to show up in style, to turn heads, and only a Lambo will do that.
Finally, the sweet sound of a printer echoes in the small office. The clerk slides a pen toward me, and I happily pick it up. She goes over every part of the contract, the extra insurance which I opt for, and when the car is due back. I initial, sign and give her a pint of my blood in the form of a credit card and a four-digit expense, which is worth every single penny. Once the paperwork is signed, I’m told to follow the agent out to the car.
We wind through the parking lot until we come to a large carport, where sitting pretty is the yellow sports car. Just looking at it gives me a fucking boner. The clerk presses the key fob and the door opens.
“Go ahead and sit down, I’ll show you how to operate the car.”
I do as she says and melt into the fine Italian leather. Sweet baby, I’m in love. There’s no way I could afford to own one, not after I blew my savings on my dream home, but for the next twenty-four hours, I’m going to drive this car until I can’t see straight.
The agent goes over everything, and honestly, I’m so enamored with this fine piece of machinery, I hear nothing she says. Yeah, I’m going to need a car like this in the future.
Once everything is set, she hands me the fob and sort of lingers around the car. Her hand is on the roof, preventing me from shutting the door and her hip is jutted out, totally flirting. I reach for the door and give her a smile. “My wife is waiting,” I tell her, sending the message loudly.