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“I really should get going,” I say, a moment of clarity as I tap the cabbie on the shoulder.
“Erica,” a voice next to the curb says. I don’t want to look, but I also don’t want to miss my chance to see those piercing eyes of his again. The kind that don’t look at you, but melt you instead. “Just for an hour to get to know each other. It’s your birthday.”
I purse my lips knowing better.
The cabbie looks over his left shoulder slightly so Sam can’t hear. “You want me to floor it and leave this guy, you just say so.”
“I…I think I’m okay.”
“You sure? For all you know he could be an ax murderer.”
I laugh so hard I almost hurl. Turning my attention back to Sam I see a gorgeous man flashing me a smile like I’ve never seen. I’m not used to this kind of attention and damnit it’s my birthday. I deserve this, even though I’m not entirely sure what ‘this’ is.
Slyly sliding my hand inside my small clutch, I wrap my fingers around my can of pepper spray, the cold steel and the contents inside giving me comfort.
“Just one drink,” he tries.
“You have water?”
“As much as you need.”
“You sure?” I hear the cabbie say. “I have a weird feeling about this guy.”
“He looks harmless. Plus, like you said, it’s not like he’s an ax murderer or something.”
I take his hand and he helps me out of the car like a gentleman, even turning his head not to look when I try to slide out and my dress hikes up a bit and I exit in a not-so-ladylike way.
With his strong hand on my waist he guides me into his apartment building and to his unit. My nose catches the smell of cooked meat in the hallway, but it’s not fresh. It’s like it’s been cooked and then left out in the sun.
I dry heave and he fiddles with his key and then jams it into the lock and helps me inside.
“Wow, your place is smaller than mine,” I blurt out.
“But you share yours with a roommate, correct?”
“That’s true.”
Moving to the sink he pulls a jug of water from the fridge and pours me a glass.
The smell is no longer evident in his apartment, but I could still use some fresh air. “Mind if we open a window?”
“How about a fan?” he asks, flipping on a small, black Honeywell model he has on the countertop.
“I think fresh air might be best.”
I stand to go open a window, but I feel like a doe trying to take its first steps and immediately sink right back into the seat I don’t even remember sitting in in the first place.
My eyes scan the room and I notice something, or more accurately don’t notice something. “You don’t have any windows?”
“Not in this place, no. It was just temporary while my house is in construction.”
If that’s not a lie told by nearly half of the bachelors in search of a one-night stand in L.A. I don’t know what is. But I don’t call him out on it. He’s doing me a favor, I think, so who am I to go look a gift horse in the mouth.
Handing me the glass I tip it back and polish it off in one huge gulp. “Can I get another one?”
“Arrowhead or Polish Springs?”
“Crazy how they pick names for them, isn’t it?”
