Melody
Call from the JW Marriott. I expect it’s some rich conventioneer separated from his group.
Coco
Have you gotten lost yet?
Melody
Nope! GPS leads me right where I need to go every time. You were right. I don’t need to know anything about the city to be an Uber driver.
From the start, Coco has been against me “driving strangers all over a dangerous city at all hours of the night” (her words), but Lindsey is my biggest cheerleader.
She’s also my roommate, and we’re both picking up any and all the gig work we can while we try to get the show going and not lose our shirts… or our cute little uptown rental.
Lindsey hates driving in the city traffic, but I don’t mind it. My biggest fear is I’ve only lived in New Orleans a short time. If anything goes wrong, I have no idea where I’m going.
I’ve only just memorized the route from my apartment off St. Charles Avenue to Cooter Brown’s Tavern—alcohol was on the line!
So far, however, she’s been right. As much as I hate artificial intelligence, “Siri” (as I call the rideshare app) has not steered me wrong yet. With another cheery order, she directs me into the circle drive of the massive, luxury hotel on the city’s main drag.
I’ve just stopped when I see a tall, dark, and handsome fellow rolling a carry-on suitcase in my direction.
I crack the window and smile as I verify the name. “Eddie?”
His blue eyes narrow, and for a moment he stares at me confused, like he forgot his code name. I’m not complaining. It’s enough time for me to get a good look at him, and he’s sinfully handsome. Tall, perfectly toned muscles stretching a black tee across his broad chest, round biceps straining the sleeves.
Lightly faded blue jeans stretch over his thighs, and the hem of his shirt rises as he lifts his carry-on into the backseat. He turns, and I catch a glimpse of his ass. It’s tight and square.
Scratch lawyer. This guy’s clearly an athlete.
His dark hair is neatly trimmed but still longish on top in a way that has me wondering what it would feel like to thread my fingers in that silky mane.Stamina. I shiver imagining how he would feel between my thighs.
The blue eyes are what send me. They’re sapphires, sparkling and focused, and briefly confused. He’s in a hurry, but when our eyes meet, he gives me a light smile.
“Oh, right.” He huffs a laugh as he slams the door. “Eddie Rabbitt.”
I put the car in drive and follow the cheery voice guiding us to Interstate 10.
“Would you say you love a rainy night?” I’m teasing, but he doesn’t miss a beat.
“In this city? Definitely,” he quips. “Better than driving my life away.”
My lips press into a smile, and I shrug. “Just looking for a better way.”
As if on cue, a thick bolt of lightning cuts through the inky night followed quickly by thunder that vibrates the car.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.
“Scared of storms?” I glance at him in the rearview mirror.
“I can’t miss this flight.”
We’re on the interstate now, and it’s been several minutes. I haven’t been driving for the rideshare service long, so I haven’t made this trip enough to tell. Still, it feels like we’ve gone too far.
That’s when my eyes flicker to the map screen, and I realize it’s frozen. It still shows us sitting in front of the Marriott.Shit!
I reach over and frantically tap the screen, but nothing happens. My eyes fly to the windshield, searching frantically for a big green sign that will tell me where we are.
