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I’m thinking about Evander the whole way.
I should have my future at the top of my mind—I still don’t know where I’m going or if I’ll sleep in a warm bed or in the back seat of this dumpy car—and my stomach’s beginning to rumble. Fortunately, I stole food from the Drake’s complimentary breakfast table, but that won’t last forever.
I still can’t get Evander out of my mind.
It’s not just the sex. I mean, yeah, it’s the sex. That wasreallygood sex. But it’s also the way he looked at me, and spoke to me, and touched my skin, and later, the way he gave me his card even though I went full-on crazy on him with all that cash and definitely ruined whatever deal he was setting up with those union guys.
He should’ve killed me. If I blew a meeting as big and as important as he said, a lesser man would’ve hurt me over it. Christopher would’ve strangled me, that’s for sure.
Instead, he gave me his card.
He was pissed and he made a few threats, but in the end, he offered to help me even more.
I don’t understand why.
I don’t get Evander at all.
But I’m thinking about him the whole way, right up until the disaster hits. There’s an enormous bang like an explosion and suddenly the car’s rumbling wildly.
I veer left, right, left, and finally manage to pull onto the shoulder, about an hour outside of the city.
I stand there, staring at the mess, and I really regret getting rid of all that cash.
The tire’s totally shredded. I try not to cry, but tears roll down my face anyway. How the hell is this happening to me, now of all times? I was so close to getting away, and a freakingflat tireis ruining this for me.
I pull myself together. No use screaming and throwing a tantrum. I can handle this like I handled everything else so far.
“Fucking fuck,” I say, pop the trunk, and stare at the space where the spare usually goes. “Oh my god. You have to befucking kidding me!Just fucking great.” I watch cars speed past, kicking up dirt and dust, leaving exhaust fumes in my throat.
I nearly made it out.
Almost, but not quite.
I call the cheapest-looking tow truck company I can find on Google and wait for them to show up. I keep taking out Evander’s card and typing in his number, but I keep closing the app before making the call.
I made my decision. I won’t go crawling back to him so soon.
“Yep, that’s a flat,” the tow guy says when he arrives, frowning at the blown-apart rubber, scratching at his bald scalp. “Where’s the spare?”
“Missing,” I say. “It’s a rental.”
“Ah, that’s the problem, those cheap places cut corners.” He clucks his tongue at me like I’m some stupid teenager. “All right, I can give you a ride back to their place if you want.”
“How much will it cost?”
He studies me and licks his teeth like he’s trying to decide how much he can extract. “Three hundred,” he says.
And I feel like I might be sick. “I can’t pay that much.”
“Tell you what. I’ll give you a break and do two-fifty. That or I can take it to an impound lot?”
I groan and rub my face with my hands, but what other choice do I have? I can’t keep this car, and I can’t afford to fix it, and I don’t know where else to go.
Reluctantly, I agree to pay him even though I have no clue how I’m going to, get in the truck, and we drive back into the city.
* * *
The guyat the rental place leans on the counter. “Back already?” he asks, showing his teeth, while the tow guy gets the Altima down off the bed.
