8. A Large Baja Blast
EIGHT
A LARGE BAJA BLAST
T here was no one in the world he hated more than Valerie Monroe right now.
“You want to go where?”
“Taco Bell.” She pronounced the fast food place like he was a two-year-old and had just heard it for the first time.
“Of course, you fuckin’ do,” he mumbled as he regretfully pulled down the street where it was located.
That and a bucket of chicken from KFC was any gamer’s dream.
“I thought you’d want to go eat inside somewhere?
I’m buying, so you can pick anywhere you’d like.
I mean anywhere. ” He emphasized the last word in a desperate attempt that she’d want to make him pay by racking up an expensive dinner bill.
Money wasn’t the issue. Hell, he had copious amounts of it, and he’d throw it at her if that was what she wanted.
What he detested was the fast food chain that, frankly, he wouldn’t serve to a dog.
Valerie gave him another look that questioned his brightness, and it was another thing he was starting to highly detest.
“I’ve spent a weekend in jail, Sal. Do you really think I look acceptable enough to eat at a nice restaurant?”
He gave her another once-over and debated on telling her he didn’t think she looked much different than how he usually saw her. Sal decided against it, though, considering she was a fucking lunatic, but it appeared she had figured out his thoughts, anyway.
Her hand went to the door handle. “You know what? Just stop the car.”
“I could take you back home to change first, if you’d like—”
“Stop the car!” she screamed at him.
I would love nothing more than to stop the fucking car! But he had to continue to play it cool. “I thought you wanted Taco Bell?”
“So, you’re taking me?”
Christ , it was like dealing with a toddler. “Yes.”
“Okay, good,” she said, making herself too comfortable in the leather seats, enough to play with the buttons in his car. “I thought your car would look like a piece of shit on the inside.”
“What? Why would you think that?” he asked, clearly offended. His car was a classic and meant more to him than a lot of things in life. It was the longest relationship he’d ever had. Hell, the only relationship he’d ever had.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess ’cause it’s old.”
“Just because something’s old, doesn’t mean it should be thrown out.”
“Hey, I agree.” Valerie held her hands up. “Just telling you what ninety-nine percent of the population would do, and they would have upgraded at least two times by now.”
“Well, I’m not ninety-nine percent of people,” he said, leaning over to shut the glovebox before she could rifle through it.
Getting his message, she tried her best to sit still. “Oh, there it is, my beautiful neon lights.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward as he pulled into the lot to park the car.
“Nuh-uh, we’re going through the drive-thru,” she told him, moving the wheel toward the long line of waiting cars. “I look like shit, remember?”
“Everyone in Taco Bell comes out looking like shit,” he told her, trying to turn the wheel back.
“Is this my peace offering or not?”
A dark thought might have popped into his mind before his boss’ face. That was when he decided to go through the drive-thru.
“Fine. But you’re not eating this shit in the car.”
Why it had seven cars lined up, he would never understand.
He rolled his window down as he approached the loud box, and Valerie leaned over him to order.
He was able to get a better look of her up close.
Her pale skin that desperately needed to see the sun carried some freckles that he thought were kind of cute, especially the ones on the bridge of her upturned nose.
But when she talked, any and all cuteness about her was viscerally obliterated.
“Can I get two supreme Doritos locos tacos, an order of nacho fries, and a large Baja Blast? Oh”—she quickly remembered something else before she could finish her order—“and a Mexican pizza.”
Dorito taco? Holy fuck, he was going to vomit. Mexican pizza? As an Italian, it was a fucking sin against everything holy.
When he pulled up to the window, a drink was already being held out to him.
“Here’s your battery acid,” he said, giving her the bright sea-foam green drink.
“How do you not like Baja Blast?”
He didn’t even bother answering that he had taste buds. Instead, he handed the cash over to the guy in the window then took her food before driving off. He instantly regretted rolling up the window. This suit was going to be the next one off to the dry cleaners.
“What’s your deal with Mexican food?” she asked, shoving her straw into the hole of the soda cup.
“I have nothing against Mexican food,” he corrected her. “But Taco Bell isn’t Mexican food.” He wasn’t even sure it was food.
It was clear she didn’t totally disagree and stood corrected. “Okay, what’s your deal with Taco Bell ?”
“My deal with them is they put out ‘new’”—he said the last word loosely and in air quotes—“food items every month, but they all literally taste the same; they just layer it differently.”
She looked dumbfounded. “Holy shit, I think you’re right.”
Despite her mind being blown, she proceeded to open the bag and take out a taco. “So, you have eaten Taco Bell before.”
“Many times,” he said rather sadly, wanting to vomit at the memory that flooded his mind. The only good thing about it was the prices. At least back in the day.
Hearing the paper crinkling brought him back to the present. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Valerie opened her Dorito taco with no remorse. “Eating.”
“You better n—” He couldn’t even finish his sentence as he watched her take a huge bite, causing some of the lettuce and taco shell to spill everywhere. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did and am,” she confirmed with another bite. “I was in that jail cell, eating slop and thinking about what you said for days . So, I’m going to enjoy this.”
Sal gripped the steering wheel in a death grip. His suit wasn’t going to be the only thing needing to be cleaned. He was going to be lucky if blood didn’t need to be cleaned out of his car.
Out of all the ways she could pay him back for what he did, this was quite possibly Sal’s worst fucking nightmare.
“You want a bite?” she asked, holding out the taco and sending more lettuce flying.
Sal’s knuckles turned white. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” Valerie said, moving on to the next taco.
By the time she had finished the second taco, her fries, and her pizza, Sal thought he was going to be sick. Not only was his car covered in crumbs, lettuce, and diced tomatoes, but so was he.
She sucked on the straw of her drink until it gurgled dry. “How’d you know I got out, anyway?”
“Officer Daniels told me.”
“Oh, he did?”
He didn’t. But she didn’t need to know that.
Nodding, he wasn’t sure she bought it but thought she must’ve when she continued her questioning.
“You going to tell me why you did it?”
He took his eyes off the road to look over at her. “Did what?”
“Make it seem like I was the hacker by giving Officer Daniels that statement.” Her words came out annoyed.
“Do you really need to ask that?” Sal gave her an incredulous look, having to take his eyes off the road again, knowing she wasn’t dumb in the slightest. Valerie was simply just annoying.
“I suppose not,” she agreed, knowing she had gotten under his skin. “And do you think I am the hacker?”
Sal shook his head as he answered honestly, “No.”
“Why not?”
If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was almost offended, but Sal knew before he had gotten a hold of her computer that she was innocent.
Smiling with satisfaction at the memory of her thrashing around the back of the cop car, he couldn’t help himself. “Sweetheart, you’d have to be framed to have caused a scene like that.”