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“Oh, fuck yeah, I never thought of that.”
“Watch your language,” he said, using that voice again, and I murmured something that I hope he took as an apology. I was afraid I’d insulted him, but then I saw the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Wait. Do serial killers have henchmen?”
“I don’t believe so, though it’s not my area of expertise. On the other hand, if I really were a serial killer, do you think I’d admit it to a potential victim?”
“Good point. Probably not. So I may as well just not worry about it. Comme çi, comme ça', as my mother used to say. She was French. From Paris. She went there with her boyfriend who was a French artist.”
“Is that true?”
“No, she was from Gadsden, Alabama.”
He sighed. “Do you even know what that phrase means? Comme çi, comme ça'?”
“Yeah, I think it’s means like what will be, will be. Like in that Doris Day song.”
“That’s que sera, sera.”
“No shit?”
He shook his head. “None whatsoever.”
“Well, what does what I said mean?”
“It means like this or like that—one or the other; it doesn’t matter. And I never heard any French person really say that phrase.”
“Oh.”
“That leaves human trafficking. How much do you think I could get for you on the open market?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. I’m not worth much of anything.”
His eyes looked at me with concern. “Why do you say that?”
“Total play for sympathy. Is it working?”
He just frowned and glanced out the window again. “Connor, would you feel safer if I took you to a hotel?”
“I can’t afford a hotel, and I would never ask you to pay for something like that, so no, thank you. I’m just a little nervous, and I think I’m babbling some. I hate to put you out like this. It’s an awful lot to ask.”
“Not at all,” he said, very well-mannered and just a bit prim and proper. He kept staring straight ahead, so I decided to proposition him. Okay, it was a spur of the moment thing.
I’m lying again. I’d been thinking about it since the moment I saw him at my front door.
“If it helps, you can totally take advantage of me tonight. I won’t mind. In fact, I’d like it.”
“Connor,” he replied, glancing over at me a little uncomfortably. I did tend to have that effect on people. “There are absolutely no strings attached to my offer. I have no intention of taking advantage of you. If you’re nervous about that or anything else, I’ll be glad to take you to a hotel. It’s completely up to you.”
I glanced over at him. We were driving on the Interstate now and passing the overhead lights that highlighted a couple of silver hairs at his temples, and I thought again how gorgeous he was and how classy. What would he want with someone like me? Then again, he’d just pretty much said he didn’t, so…
“No, thank you. I like strings. And I-I’d really, really like to go home with you.”
He sighed. “It’s probably for the best. The going home with me part. The weather is definitely getting worse tonight and this Interstate is practically deserted. It might be difficult to find a hotel room in all this. But I assure you, you’re perfectly safe, despite your uh, generous offer. Would you like to phone someone and tell them where you’re going?”
“I don’t think anyone would care—or even notice I was missing.”
“Another play for sympathy?”
