Fancy Car Guy laughs again, almost as loud as his car. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, but I’m glad you’re alright.”
I give him an uncertain smile, laughing it off.
“I can barely hear you over that engine,” Lex states, clearly unhappy with the situation. She’s right; enough is enough.
“Okay. Cool car. I’m going to get out now—” I reach for the door handle, but pause when I can’t find it.
“Just wait, I haven’t shown you the massage function.” He presses a few buttons, and I practically feel the stress evaporate from my body as the machine works its magic on my lumbar.
“How about a spin around the parking lot?” Fancy Car Guy asks. “Every pretty girl should know what it’s like to drive in a McLaren.”
I sink further into the massage chair. “Okay. Just a few minutes.” I need to get me one of these.
Lex sighs, resigning herself to my poor choices. “Put on your seat belt.”
I do as I’m told. Even the seat belt feels expensive. How the hell do they make itclickso nice?
Fancy Car Guy revs the engine and eases his McLaren out of its spot, then turns to make our way around the lot. We’re only going fifteen kilometres an hour, but I can feel the power thrumming beneath my ass like a thoroughbred racehorse pacing its paddock.
Fancy Car Guy chats at me about his life, his work, his various businesses, and houses he owns all over Canada, trying his best to impress me. And, honestly, it sort of does. I am, after all, a human being. The only thing that interrupts his monologue is when we go over a speed bump. This car was not made for speed bumps. Fancy Car Guy has to manoeuvre us over them at an angle, and it’s extremely jarring up and back down each time, jostling the shit out of me. Each time it happens, I catch Fancy Car Guy glancing over at me to watch my tits jiggle. Can’t say I blame him.
“Is that enough of a ride?” he asks after our third tour of the parking lot. “How about we get out of here and grab some ceviche?”
Lex is loud in my ear. “Hell no!”
I share her sentiment. “No, thanks. Drop me off here, that’s fine.”
Fancy Car Guy is incredibly confused that flashing his money around did not, in fact, get him everything he wants. Despite his disappointment, he obeys my wishes and parks his McLaren back where we’d started and turns off the engine.
“Well, this was great,” I say. “But for future reference, if your date agrees to a picnic then you should probably pack a picnic.”
Fancy Car Guy has the audacity to look offended. “For future reference, how about you show a little respect and gratitude?”
Lex gasps. “Oh no he did not!”
My mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
He looks away, hands gripping the wheel. “I just wanted to take you on a nice drive and treat you to a meal that would have cost hundreds of dollars.”
“I didn’t agree to that, though.” I speak slowly and clearly. “When you make an agreement with someone you stick to your word.”
“None of the other girls complained.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they had agreattime, which is why you’re on a date with me right now and not with them. Have yourself a fabulous day.” I unclick my seat belt and grasp at the door for the release mechanism.
“It’s there—” Fancy Car Guy points.
“Where?” I fumble around the door.
“No, not there. Over there—” He reaches across me, his hand sliding along my breast completely unnecessarily, and points to the right place.
I elbow his arm away and grasp the handle. “It’s not working.”
“You’re probably doing it wrong.”
“Really? Like I can’t even figure out your stupid door handle?” I reef on it a few more times. “It’snotworking.”
“Easy on the door,” Fancy Car Guy complains. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” He grasps his own handle exactly the sameway I did and pushes the button. Nothing happens. He pushes it a few more times.
