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Issac and I chuckle, smiling at each other.
"Need help?" Issac asks, checking her out. His eyes dance all the way down her body.
"Um," she says, staring at the ground. The toe of her black high heel digs into the gravel. "If you wouldn't mind calling me a cab, then yeah. My phone's done for."
She's got a form-fitting black frock of a dress on. It looks like she's headed to or coming from a funeral. It's the middle of the night. I'll go with coming from a funeral. It's hideous, but damn does it highlight her curves.
"What's wrong with it?" I ask, checking out her car. It doesn't have a flat tire and it's not smoking.
"I'm pretty sure my asshole father remotely deactivated it," she says, hands planted on her hips.
Issac chuckles.
"Whoa." My jaw falls open. "Why?"
"Because he's a real peach," she says, rolling her big blue eyes.
"What's your name?" I ask, moving a little closer.
"Baby Love McKinley," she says, offering me a hand to shake.
So fucking weird. Who shakes hands these days? Especially someone who's not eighty years old.
Also, that's a strange-ass name. She's a beautiful chick, with a kinda inappropriate name. Call a random chick baby and you're just asking to get slapped.
I chuckle. "That's Issac Matthews and I'm Dexter Clark."
Her hand is small and soft in mine.
"McKinley…" Issac says, scratching at his jaw. "You're related to the fuck-wad governor?"
Baby swallows, eyes darting away.
"He's my father," she whispers.
"You're over eighteen, right?" I ask, sliding across the gravel and peeking in her trunk.
"Of course." She sighs. "I'm almost twenty-one."
"Cool, cool," I say, tossing my signature smile at her.
She frowns, pushing long dark hair away from her eyes.
"Why is all your shit in here?" I ask.
The trunk is overflowing with suitcases and garbage bags filled with stuff.
"Will you call me a cab or not?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You know this ain't the best neighborhood," Issac says, eyeing the group of homeless dudes and random street thugs at the other end of the plaza.
"Yeah," she says, eyes darting around like she just remembered where she is. "This is where the car cut off. I was trying to get to the interstate."
"Where you headed?" Issac asks, crossing his huge arms over his chest.
"As far away from my family as I can get," Baby says, frowning.
"All right, well, let us give you a ride," I suggest.
