“Sounds good,” I reply, my voice calm, masking that I’m really fuminginside.
Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror, albeit only for a moment, before she shifts hers back to the scenery out the window. It’s dark now, the lights from the city bouncing off the pavement. Since I arrived, I haven’t even been to the Eiffel Tower. Maybe I’ll go tomorrow. Now that my schedule has beencleared.
I roll to a stop in front of her place. “Have a great evening and a wonderful day tomorrow. I’ll most likely be out and about running errands tomorrow, but here’s my cell number. Call me if you need to go into theoffice.”
Lauren takes the card from my hand and while avoiding eye contact, says, “Thanks, Jaxson. Enjoy your evening.” Then she steps out, with the box of teddy bears propped up against herhip.
And when she closes the door to the car, I speedoff.
Feeling down,I decided it was time to step out. Be a Taylor and shake it off. Do something to cheer me up. So I showered, shaved that horrific beard that has been bugging the hell outta me, put on some Jaxson Malone style threads and hopped on an Uber to the cardealership.
That’s right. It’s time to dip into my bank account and buy a flashy car. I’m kinda missing my Porsche. It was a sweet ride, youknow.
When I arrive, the dealer is glad to give me a private showing of the cars he has instock.
“Monsieur, quelle voiture aimeriez-vous? Audi’s. Benz’s. Porsche’s? Which do you prefer?” asks thesalesman.
All of them look pretty sweet, but after perusing over the options presented, I decide to go with another Porsche. 718 Cayman. Sex onwheels.
I pay cash, making all of the paperwork a breeze to get through. The salesman hands over the keys and says, “Ce fut un plaisir de faire des affaires aver vous. Enjoy your new ride,Monsieur.”
I take off, my new car hugging the curves of the Paris roads like they are hisbitch.
I feel free. And most of all, I am feeling likemeagain.
My phone chimes. I take a peek. It’s a text from a number I don’trecognize.
I pull off to the side of the road to read it. Can’t text and drive. Not even inParis.
I think it’s a text from Icy HotPrincess.
LB:Hey Jaxson it’s me, Lauren. I know it’s kind of late, but I was wondering if you can come pick me up? I would drive myself, but I really hate driving. If you’re busy, I understand. I’ll call an Uber. Never mind. That’s what I’ll do.Thanks.
Why is she texting me? Isn’t she supposed to be on herdate?
Me:Hey there. I thought you were on a hotdate…
A few seconds later shereplies.
LB:Yeah, well, he never showed up. I can’t let my outfit go to waste. Plus, I’mhungry.
Her Mister Right is really Loser Prick. Gentleman rule number one: never stand a ladyup.
Me:Okay, I’ll come get you. But, you’ll have to sit up in the front withme.
LB:Why?
Ibeam.
Me:Because tonight I’m Jaxson Malone. Not your driver. And I wanna take you out on the date you deserve to be outon.
