Page 105 of Forever Relentless

Briar looked up at me and then at the step. “Did I say you could move?” She pointed behind me to the steps. “Back. Sit. Look moody.”

“I changed my mind, you’re fired.”

“Too bad, you have me now,” she smiled sweetly and snapped a picture.

“I have you, do I?”

“Shut up.” She hid behind her camera again and took another picture. “Look at the phone. Be pensive!”

“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to look like.”

Five torturous minutes later, I was allowed up. Briar showed me her images, and I had to admit there were some good ones.

“Huh.”

“Now me.” She handed me her phone. “That’s the number that called me. When I called it back, no one answered.”

I ignored the number. “Who are you with?” She stared at me blankly. “You are not doing women the world over any favors with your complete blankness on car knowledge.”

“What?”

“You’re fitting the stereotype well.”

“Screw you.” She took the phone from me, then handed it back. “Them.”

“Why didn’t you call that number?” I asked as I pressed dial. I looked up, and she shrugged. “Ohh-kay.”

They answered on the first ring.

“Hi, I’m calling about my girlfriend’s car. It was supposed to be looked at this morning in Halston, but she didn’t get there in time. Can you tell me if the car got moved?”

“Why am I your girlfriend?” she hissed beside me. “Why not your sister?”

“Shh.” I listened, pushing her away. “I need your registration.”

She told me, and I repeated it to the woman on the phone. I listened, rolled my eyes, winced, then said ‘thanks’ and hung up.

“So the good news is, they took your car to a garage, and it’s going to get fixed. The bad news is, you incurred a fee for not being there — they had to tow your car to the nearest garage. The worse news is, you need to pay the garage for fixing your car.”

“What?”

I nodded in sympathy. “Yeah . . . Not so good.”

“Did they say how much?”

“The roadside assistance company already took the ‘no-show’ payment. I think it was a straight one-fifty.”

She was already on her banking app. “Son of a bitch . . .”

She looked up at me. “How much does the garage cost?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Son of a bitch.” She kicked out at the lower step and flinched. “Ow.”

“The stone didn’t bend?”

“Fuck off.”