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Well, fuck.
Where is the car?
I parked it here a few hours ago, but when I came back out to check on it—because hello, shit neighborhood—it was gone.
Biting my cheek, I taste my own blood.
How do I tell him his car’s been stolen?
From my place.
Will he be mad?
I’m not sure I want to see him angry. I’ve seen him furious at others, but never at me.
Walking back inside, I find his number and press call and he answers, sounding half asleep. “Chanel.” He says my name when I don’t speak.
“So…” I begin, but the rest of the words don’t want to leave my mouth. “Did you pick up your car?”
“No,” he replies, and I can hear him waking up a little more. “Is my car not with you?”
“I may have misplaced it.” I groan, banging my head on the wall.
“It’s hard to misplace a car,” he comments, but his tone gives nothing away. He doesn’t sound upset with me like I thought he would be. “Hold on.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m tracking it.” A sigh leaves me as I hear a few things clicking and then he swears. “You’ll make this up to me.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” I tell him, but stop myself from saying any more since that isn’t exactly true. I could have just stayed with him and this wouldn’t have happened. Or, at least, that would be his reasoning. He stays quiet, and I reluctantly ask, “Fine, what do you want?”
“You can take the new phone I bought you. And, Chanel, if you throw this one out, I will spank your ass.”
“This was your plan all along,” I accuse.
“Yeah, I totally planned for my car to be stolen.”
“Are you going to get it back?” I ask. “Can I come?”
“You want to come to get my car?” he asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Yes, if that’s okay.”
“Sergio is on his way to collect you.” He hangs up.
Running inside, I slide on some jeans and throw on a baggy shirt after I pull off my nighty. When I walk out of my room, Brody’s sitting on the couch playing his Xbox.
“You off?” he calls out, and I just nod and walk out the door.
Sergio is pulling up to the curb when I shut the door behind me. I climb into the front seat and offer him a warm smile. “Hi.” He doesn’t reply, just drives to Lucas’ place in complete silence.
Lucas approaches the car, typing away on his cell, not paying us any attention.
“Get in the back,” Sergio says to me, and Lucas looks up.
“She can stay where she is if she wants.”
I undo my seat belt and climb into the back. Surprisingly, Lucas gets in the back with me, and he only puts his cell down once we’re moving.
“Did you sleep?”
I nod. I tried, but I didn’t get far. All my thoughts were of his hands roaming my body in every which way possible. I’m clearly not telling him that, though.
“You would have slept better in my bed.”
“With photos of all your other women? That’s a hard no.” I shake my head, and he reaches into the back pocket of the seat in front of him, then passes me an iPhone box.
“One more time. I will spank your ass.” I take it from his hand and glance to the window. “Chanel,” he warns, and I can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up from inside me.
“Calm down, I’m not throwing it out.” I open the box and am met with a light blue iPhone.
“I’ve seen you wear that color.”
I’m surprised he remembers. I feel him watching me, so I turn toward him. “Thank you.”
“That thing you call a phone can’t do anything but call.”
“It can text.”
“It can text,” he mimics me with a shake of his head. “It’s a piece of shit. There is another in that pocket.” He nods toward it. “For your brother.”
“You don’t need to buy us,” I tell him. “I’m not for sale anymore.”
“It’s a gift, Chanel. For fuck’s sake, take it.”
I huff as we keep driving. “Where are we going?” I ask. Instead of answering, he takes the cell from my grasp and then makes a grabby hand motion in front of my face. I have no idea what he means, so I sit there, confused with a raised brow.
“Give me your old cell.” I reach into my pocket and give him my phone. He exhales a soft laugh as he turns it around and pulls the sim card out. “You’ll have to change your number, this sim card won’t work.” He gives me my phone back and then turns on the other and sets it up. “Email.” I rattle off my email, and when he’s done entering it, he looks at me. “Lean in.” I’m confused why he would want me to do that, but I do it anyway. Leaning in close to me, he lifts the cell and then snaps a photo.
