Chapter 9 #2
“I’m not talking about his physical appearance, though he sounds smoking hot.
I’m talking about here.” Emma tapped her chest before returning her hand to the steering wheel.
“He sounds like someone who’s experienced a great loss and doesn’t know what to do with himself.
” She glanced over at me. “If I had to guess, you got under his skin in unexpected and scary ways.”
“You can’t possibly know that. You weren’t there.”
“No, but I’m experiencing it through your words,” Emma said.
I snorted so hard it hurt. “I’m the least reliable narrator on the planet, and I’m likely projecting all my unrequited desires onto him.”
“You want him bad, huh?” Emma asked.
“In the worst way.” I sighed heavily. “It’s not to be, and I need to accept it instead of causing myself more grief.
Besides, my last workplace romance ended in disaster, and I can’t afford that now.
I need to focus on getting my feet on solid ground, not trying to rock my world with hot, sweaty—” I swallowed down the rest of what I was going to say. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, but it’s been so long I can hardly remember.”
Emma was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen, so if she was celibate, it was by design. “You’re not the only one with horrible taste in men.” Emma glanced over and smiled. “We both deserve better.”
“Can’t argue with you there.”
“Now, tell me why you ran out to my car like the hounds of hell were nipping at your heels.”
“I’m not sure you’re far off the mark.” I told her about Bobby’s behavior, both at lunchtime and when he confronted me outside my office.
“Okay, that guy definitely gives off a weird vibe,” she admitted. “It was smart to make up a boyfriend.”
“I just hope he doesn’t start pressing me for information about the relationship. I have a hard enough time managing my real life and can’t imagine juggling a fake one too, just to keep Bobby off my ass.”
“One thing at a time,” Emma said. “Finding a replacement vehicle takes precedence.”
“We have to swing by Harland’s so I can sign Sadie’s title over to him and collect my money. Harland has a cousin named Ernie, who owns a buy-here-pay-here lot that offers decent cars at a fair interest rate. I don’t need anything too fancy. She just needs to get me to work and back.”
“Good things are going to happen for you, baby,” Emma said. “I can feel it.”
“Maybe you’re about to get explosive diarrhea.”
Emma gasped in outrage before she burst into laughter. “You’d better not have cursed me just now.”
“If I had that kind of power, Bobby would be stuck on the toilet for the rest of the night.”
Honest Ernie greeted us when we arrived at his used car lot.
He extended a ham hock–sized hand for us to shake and provided cold beverages as we toured the available cars.
Ernie offered a bigger selection than I’d expected but with price tags I wasn’t willing to consider.
Much to Emma’s chagrin, I leaned closer to Ernie and asked if he had more affordable options.
“How much cheaper?” Ernie asked.
I named the amount I could put down and a monthly payment I could comfortably swing.
Ernie rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb.
“I don’t have an available car on the lot in that price point.
” He cocked his head to the side and held up his forefinger as if remembering something.
“Well, I have a scooter I won in a poker game. It’s not the prettiest thing in the world, but it has character and runs great.
I could sell that to you outright, and you’d still have enough money for licensing and tags. ”
Emma groaned and pulled me to the side. “Baby, no. A scooter? I think it’s time you consider drastic measures here.”
I shook my head vehemently, knowing what she was going to recommend. “No, Em. Don’t go there.”
She gripped both my hands in hers. “I think it’s time you sold some of your collectibles.” And damn, Emma went there.
“I can’t. I won’t.”
“Mi amor, how many ancient gaming systems, games, vinyl records, and DVDs do you need?
“They’re priceless classics.”
“I know how much you love those things,” Emma said, “but selling them and freeing up the money you spend on a temperature-controlled storage unit would change your life. You could likely move out of your parents’ house and get your own place.
” She gestured to the car lot filled with solid vehicle options.
“And you could get something safer to drive.”
She was right, and we both knew it. But I’d just had to say goodbye to my sweet Sadie, and I wasn’t ready to part with the collection I’d cultivated over years of going to yard sales with Emma and her grandmother, Ramona.
“A scooter, Kit? Really?”
In her question, I detected an unspoken accusation. You’re going to drive a scooter? You can barely walk without killing yourself on the best days.
I had no real defense, so I shrugged. “Shouldn’t I at least look at the scooter before deciding?”
“It comes with a custom matching helmet,” Ernie said.
Emma threw up her hands. “Well, then, by all means.” Her reply was pure sarcasm, but I chose not to see it that way.
“I’ll have a look at her,” I told Ernie.
He led us toward a small shed on the outer edge of the property.
“It’s so rad they have to keep her locked up,” I whispered to Emma, who didn’t acknowledge my remark with so much as a blink.
Ernie unlocked and opened the double doors, then stood back. Sunlight beamed into the dark interior like a spotlight, and at center stage was a golden beauty that stole my breath.
Emma groaned, “Oh no.”
But I nearly tripped over my two feet to get to her. “Oh my,” I whispered reverently. “The metallic paint makes her glitter like a diamond.”
“A road hazard if I’ve ever seen one,” Emma muttered. “You’ll blind someone with that death machine and cause a wreck.”
“Will not,” I argued as I ran a finger over the scooter’s bronze racing stripe.
“Will too.” Emma trudged in behind me and picked up the helmet hanging from one handlebar. “Is this the matching helmet?” Her voice rose an octave with each word until she was nearly shouting.
I was so enthralled with the scooter that I hadn’t noticed, but she had my full attention now. The helmet was the same gold color as the bike, but someone had painted bronze and black cheetah spots all over it. “Wow.”
“Hell no. And I’m putting my foot down,” Emma said, then stomped to emphasize her point.
“I’ll take her.”
“Are you listening to me?” Emma asked. “You don’t even know how to drive a scooter.”
“I can show him,” Ernie said. “There’s nothing to it.”
Emma spun on her heels and squared off against him. “I need to have a private word with Atticus, please.”
Uh-oh. She never first-named me, choosing to call me Kit, KitKat, Atticat, or some other endearment. Ernie looked scared for my safety, so I gave him a reassuring nod.
“Em—”
She shook her head to cut me off. “This is too dangerous. I bet this thing only drives about thirty miles per hour. Someone will run over you.”
“It maxes out at about sixty-five miles per hour,” Ernie called out from somewhere nearby.
“You’re not helping,” Emma yelled.
“Sorry,” came a mournful reply.
I reached for her hands, and she gripped mine tightly. “Em, this is what I want. Something I can buy free and clear.”
“Because you don’t want to sell your collectibles?”
I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. “Because I do not want to surrender another damn piece of my soul to the shittiest year on record.”
“I’ll lend you the money you need to buy a car from the lot. You can write up a payment plan that works for your budget. Please.” Tears filled Emma’s eyes. “I can’t lose you, KitKat.”
“You won’t. I promise. Ernie will give me instructions. I’ll practice in the lot for a while, and then you can follow me home. I’ll drive slow and safe.”
“Great. So I get to be the one who runs over you when the scooter topples over? No, thanks.”
Her doubt stung, but I knew it came from a place of love. “Let’s make a deal. Let me at least try it out before you start planning my funeral. Okay?”
“Fine.”
Forty-five minutes later, I was the proud owner of Blanche, the snazziest scooter named after the most glamorous Golden Girl.
I was nervous when I pulled out onto the public street for the first time, but knowing Emma was at my back gave me the confidence I needed to zip home without incident.
Endorphins and pride were a dizzying combo, and my legs were a little unsteady when I climbed off Blanche after parking her under the carport attached to our garage.
I wanted to celebrate what felt like a roaring success when everything else had sucked.
I thought of my lunchtime conversation with Ray and realized it hadn’t all been bad.
I jogged to Emma’s car, and she rolled down the window. “My parents won’t be home until late. You want to get dinner?”
“Can’t. Gotta get back to the salon. I have a late client tonight.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Take advantage of your alone time and bust out the only collection you brought with you to your parents’ house.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Only because I was too embarrassed to leave it at the storage unit. What if the property manager had to enter my unit for an emergency and stumbled upon my box of…”
“Dildos in various shapes and sizes?”
“Hush,” I said, looking around to see if any of the neighbors were lurking nearby. “I don’t want anyone to hear.”
“Which is why you’ve probably lived a very dull life since moving back in with the folks. Seriously, my dude, go relieve some stress in the most epic way. Light a candle, turn on some music, and romance yourself.”
I wanted to dismiss her suggestions, but damn if she wasn’t right again. “Bye, Emma,” I said, backing away from her car. “Thank you for everything.”
“I won’t be the one you’re thanking when your legs are limp noodles later. It’ll be Ray.”