When I see the one with the little white airplane, it’s too late. I drive right past it.
“You missed your turn.” Eddie’s voice grows forceful. “I’m already cutting it close.”
“I’m sorry! My GPS froze. It must be the electrical storm.”
“You need GPS to get to the airport?” His voice rises. “It’s right off the interstate. Now we have to go to the next exit and double back!”
My heart beats so hard against my chest, I might be sick. Last thing I need is to lose this job, too.
“I’ll get you back there A-sap.” I tap the screen again harder, but it’s still frozen.
No, no, no… I say a silent prayer to the mythical witches who founded my hometown.Fireside Ladies, help me… Unfreeze this stupid computer!
Those hookers must all be out drinking tequila, because it does not unfreeze. My palms slide over the steering wheel as I do my best to follow the green road signs. Only, they’re so few and far between.
My insides are literally shaking, and I can feel the growing anger rippling off my passenger in waves.
“I can’t lose this tripandthe game,” he growls. “If I don’t make this flight, I’ll miss my connection.”
Suddenly it clicks.Eddie Rabbitt is Knox Bradford!
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bradford…”
His blue eyes snap to mine in the mirror. “How do you know my real name? Is this some kind of sabotage? Are you intentionally trying to make me miss my flight?”
His voice rises with each question, and I shake my head fast. “No! I would never?—”
“I should’ve known when I booked this…” He glares at me. “Are you working for the paparazzi?”
“No!” I answer too fast.
“You’re going to miss another turn! Right here… Fucking… GOD—goleft!” He’s full-on shouting now. “LEFT!”
I scream, turning the wheel and almost send another car into the ditch. “I can’t just change lanes like that!”
“You have one job,” he growls. “Stay in the right lane. RIGHT!”
He’s shouting every direction at me like I can’t read the massive airport signs overhead.
“Why are you even using Uber?” I shout back. “Don’t you have a car service?”
I’m shaking all over, and I can’t get to the terminal fast enough. My breath is coming in pants, and I pull up to the curb as he flies out of the door, taking his suitcase with him. He doesn’t even stop to look back or ask if I’m okay.
The door slams, and I drive shakily to the cell phone lot where I kill the engine and take a minute to breathe. I hope my screen will reset along with my rattled insides. I feel like I might be sick or cry, which I amnotgoing to do. I haverealthings to cry about, not some absoluteasshole.
A few deep breaths and a few minutes later, everything comes back online, including the GPS, but I’m done for thenight. I switch off the app and make the drive back to our cute shotgun duplex.
Peniston Street is a tiny road off the bigger St. Charles Avenue, where two universities, Audubon Park, and all the stately old mansions fromThe Princess and the Frogare located.
I love that movie. I consider watching it tonight and getting some hope that I might make it through this difficult time… without having to go through scary voodoo encounters in the bayou or face the Shadow Man.
“You’re home early!” Lindsey meets me at the door with a bowl of popcorn and a concerned expression.
“The storm messed up my GPS.”
“Dang. Well, that’s okay! We can watchAmerican Pickers, and you can tell me if these people are getting robbed.”
“I need a shot first.” I pass her, going straight through the house to the kitchen in the back.
