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Whatever Art is about to say is interrupted by the announcement that we’re allowed to leave the plane.
In a cheesy gentlemanly gesture that I secretly love, Art offers me his hand to help me from my seat. He also lets me go through every door first all the way out of the airport.
Since we don’t have checked-in luggage, we head straight for the taxis. As we wait, I text my sisters and tell them we’ll talk as soon as I get home. I also debate if I should follow up with Bella, but before I decide, it’s our turn to get into a cab.
As soon as we get going, I realize there’s a huge problem.
The person who rode in this car before us must not have showered in a decade. And, to make matters worse, I smell a pine car freshener.
I crack open a window.
Nope. The car freshener smell is less potent, but the body odor is still intolerable, making me think it’s the driver that’s the source.
Even cozying up to Art and inhaling his magic smell doesn’t work. How weird would I look if I pulled out that gas mask and put it on? Or stuck my head out the window, like a dog? Or maybe I could fake being sick? I might actually be sick if I keep smelling this.
The problem is, if we get out, it’s now a long walk back to the taxi area, plus there was that line. I hate being such a diva about smells, but then again, I’m not sure I can—
“Stop the car.” Art’s tone is so demanding the cab driver smashes the brakes.
We stop with a jolt and a screech of tires, and I smell burning rubber—another scent I hate.
“We’re getting out,” Art says, then tosses the guy a twenty and hops out, holding the door open for me.
Before the cab driver can clarify what’s what, I scramble out of the car.
Oh, the blissfully body-odor-free air.
My gag reflex relaxes.
The cab speeds away.
I look at Art with raised eyebrows, though I can guess what happened.
“That car seemed to smell,” he says. “I figured if I noticed it, you’re probably suffocating.”
As I thought. He wanted to save me from the stink. That’s an act of chivalry that would get you knighted back in the day, or at the very least get you into a lady’s chastity belt.
“Thanks,” I say earnestly. “But now we have to shlep all the way back.”
He flashes his smart watch at me. “I could use the steps. Besides, you’re worth it.”
Aww. I almost float on air on our way back.
Luckily for us, the line is shorter when we get there, and the next car is smell free, or as much as is possible in a machine that runs on stinky gasoline and is occupied by dozens of people daily.
“Do you mind if I get on my phone?” I ask Art. “There’s a business-related message I need to send.”
He frowns. “I thought you were in between jobs.”
Skunk. This is the problem with lies. They require more maintenance than an antique vibrator.
“My sister put me in touch with someone who might create a great opportunity for me.” Hey, that’s all true. “The problem is, I drunk-texted her, so now I need to carefully word any further communication.”
He nods sagely. “Let me know if you need help.”
Oh, no. It’s bad enough that Bella—and maybe my spy sister, Blue—saw that whole “As swoon as I’m back in Mew Pork, I’ll shit you lard” line. I don’t need anyone else to see it. Especially Art.
“Thanks, but I need to do this on my own,” I say. “I’m sure you’ve got things to take care of concerning our new union.”
