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“It will be good to get into some civilian clothes.” He grabbed the handle of his rolling bag as they walked past it. “I feel like I’ve been wearing this uniform for a month.”
“Just so you know, I have other clothes … different clothes.” Harmony didn’t know why she was so hell-bent on people-pleasing Tre.
“A gold-lamé bikini doesn’t really count, Super Girl, but I’ll give you points for trying.” His rolling bag got caught on the lip of an area rug. She didn’t feel the need to help him.
“No, I really do.” She opened the door to her room and led him to the walk-in closet. “See.”
He looked at the handful of dresses from Talbots, Ann Taylor, and Chico’s that she’d brought with her. Then stared just as hard at the black leather mini and red catsuit.
He sighed dramatically. “I got here just in time. You have multiple wardrobe personality disorder. I know a cry for help when I see one.” He one-arm-hugged her. “Don’t worry, Sybil. I promise we’re going to put all of your humpty-dumpty personality pieces back together again.”
An hour later, they all walked into the garage. Lyric hit a button on the wall, and the garage door rolled up. Sunlight backlit Cherry Cherry.
Was it Harmony’s imagination, or did Cherry Cherry have an ethereal glow? Then again, hellfire could give that same glow. Lyric would probably tell Harmony that she was glowing because Heath had had her waxed the other day, but Harmony wasn’t so sure—even if she was parked to show off her shine, like she was staged for a car show.
“What in God’s name is that?” Tre’s nose was pinched up like he’d just drawn the short straw and had to change a stinky diaper.
“It’s Cherry Cherry.” Lyric opened the driver’s-side door. “She’s kind of temperamental, so you need to be nice to her.”
Tre glanced at Harmony. “Is she for real?”
“Unfortunately. Cherry Cherry loves three things: Heath, a hand wax, and Neil Diamond. Not necessarily in that order. It’s best if you flatter her.” Harmony wasn’t ready to acknowledge Cherry Cherry as a conscious being, but she’d stopped discounting her as one after she’d been locked out one time too many.
“You do know that cars aren’t alive,” Tre stage whispered.
“You’ve never met anything like Cherry Cherry.” Lyric climbed in and closed the door. Harmony took the passenger’s seat.
“Why can’t we take the Porsche?” Tre looked longingly over at the Porsche Spyder.
“Are you planning on riding on the hood?” Harm pointed to the two-seater. “Two seats and no cargo space. Where would we put all of our shopping bags.”
Tre wilted in defeat. “You have a point. Well, if I must.” Reluctantly, he opened the back door and slid into the seat. “It’s really roomy back here. His eyes darted around like he was looking for the spirit of Cherry Cherry. “I can respect another Diamond Head.”
Cherry Cherry seemed to sigh in relief.
“Why does it smell like marijuana in here?” Tre relaxed back against the seat like he was a billionaire waiting to be driven around in his limousine.
“Her last owner could have given Bob Marley a run for his reefer.” Harmony buckled her seat belt.
Lyric turned the key and nothing happened. She placed both hands on the dash. “Come on, Cherry Cherry. We have to go help Heath.”
She glanced over at Harm like she needed some help convincing the car of the lie. Harmony nodded. “That’s right. He needs our help.”
Tre leaned forward between the seats. “I can’t all
ow you to lie to another Diamond Head. It’s just wrong. Cherry Cherry, we’re going shopping. We need you to get us there.”
Tre’s door opened.
“I think she wants Tre to drive.” Lyric looked back at him. “Is that okay?”
“I don’t drive. I Ubered over. I like to be driven around. When I make my fortune as a designer, I’m going to hire a driver.” He closed the door. “Cherry Cherry, please let Lyric drive. I’ll buy you a brand-new air freshener.”
The engine started right up.
“That’s my girl.” He blew her an air-kiss.
“It makes sense that you two would get along.” Lyric rolled her eyes.
