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Gina laughed good-naturedly. “My girl's back, yes and in fighting form! Now let’s see about putting a CD in there that we can relate to, okay?” I nodded and sorted through the stack of CDs. In the meantime, Gina opened up the Lamborghini full throttle. I was so distracted that I didn’t see the black stretch limo that passed us going in the opposite direction.
“How about Pink? You sort of remind me of her.”
“Yeah?” Gina asked, obviously flattered. “You know I’ve heard that.”
“You kind of have an attitude like hers, too.”
“I’ve heard that said as well.”
I placed the CD into the tray, and it automatically slid back into the player. In a couple of seconds, Pink’s song, “Fuckin’ Perfect” was playing. I loved this song, a rare side of Pink. Gina pulled off the road into a Dairy Queen.
“Really?” I asked.
“I’m in the mood for a slushie,” she said. “How about you? My treat.”
“Sure, blueberry,” I replied.
“Got it.”
She left the car running while she went to the order window, coming back with two giant slushies, blueberry for me, root beer for her. We sat in the car, slurping our slushies, reflecting. Gina hadn’t mentioned Ian at all since yesterday. I knew she was still pissed and had turned her cell phone off for that reason. She probably wanted him to worry about what she was doing. I knew she was thinking about him when she got quiet like this.
Gina played with the controls on the steering wheel and skipped tracks to “So What.”
“Oh, Ilovethis one!” she exclaimed and started singing along. She surprisingly had a really good voice. Coupled with her resemblance to Pink and us being in this car, it was conceivable someone could mistake her for Pink. But who could I be…maybe her agent?
I looked over at Gina thinking how much fun it would be to pull something like that off, but she was singing away, using her cup as a giant microphone. I joined in with her on the chorus. She seemed to be getting her frustration out, which I was glad about. I was also feeling more liberated and less depressed. I was glad we'd done this.
Singing away with the stereo blasting, neither of us heard the black stretch limo pull up beside the passenger side of the Lamborghini. Gina noticed it before I did when she suddenly stopped singing, leaving me to do the chorus solo. I followed her gaze, still singing away as I turned to see the limo. The tinted window in the back seat slowly lowered and I was greeted by those incredibly blue and incredibly angry eyes.
Oh shit!
“Ladies,” Trey greeted us in his smooth silky voice, “There's been a slight change of plans. I'll drive Tylar back to the house. Gina, you can make yourself comfortable in the limo, which will be right behind us.”
There was definitely an edge to his voice that neither of us challenged. The limo driver got out, opening the door for Trey. Gina was already scooting out of the Lamborghini, giving me a look that said, “Good luck, it's been nice knowing you.”
Trey slid into the driver seat, electronically adjusting it to accommodate his height. The driver closed the limo door after Gina was settled inside. I was afraid to look at Trey. I smoothed the ball cap down; trying to lower the bill enough to shield me from the glare I knew I was getting at this very moment. Someone had to say something.
“Trey,” I started to speak, humbly, “I know—”
“Not a word, Tylar,” he breathed, having difficulty containing his anger. “I’m too pissed off at the moment. I don’t want to risk saying anything to you that I'll regret later. For now, please stay quiet and put your seat belt on.”
I scrambled to comply. The drive back to the manor was extremely long despite the speed at which Trey was driving. I crouched as much as I could in a two-seater car away from him, but I could feel his anger burning through me. He'd every right to be. I'd abused his generosity and over-stepped boundaries by taking his expensive sports car out without asking. He'd never forgive me, I knew that. Maybe it was best having things like this between us. It'd make it much simpler leaving. As soon as he pulled into the garage, I opened my door, anxious to put some distance between us.
“Hold it there!” he ordered. I jumped, startled by his unsuppressed anger now that we were back on his turf. “I want you to go inside and go up to your room. As soon as I calm down, I'll be up and we'll be having a discussion. Understood?”
I nodded, hating the fact that he was treating me like a child. I spotted the limo with Gina inside winding up the drive. I was humiliated on all fronts. The omnipresent Thatcher was there to open the door as I bolted in and up the stairs like a child waiting for the paddle. I slammed the door to “my room” immediately grabbing the suitcase out of the closet and throwing it wide open on the bed. I opened all of the dresser drawers, tossing the contents onto the bed until each drawer was emptied. There was a soft knock on my door. I knew he couldn't have calmed down already.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened and Gina peered in the room, tentatively. Seeing that I was alone, she came in, closing the door behind her.
“How pissed is he?” she asked.
“Oh, he ismonumentallypissed! Let me put it this way, he needs time to calm down just so that he can get to pissed!”
“What should I do? Should I go?” Gina asked.
“Don’t you dare leave me, Gina!”
