I narrow my eyes. Is she one of those scammers who act hurt and try to squeeze drivers for money?Lady, you picked the wrong mark.
I crack the window open. “Fuck off.” My foot starts to step on the gas. I’ve got no time for this BS after my “talk” with my grandmother and mother.
She sticks her fingers into the gap in the window, forcing me to stop again. “Wait, please! Sorry I jumped out like that, but Ireallyneed a ride,” she shouts over the rain.
Riiiiiight. And I have the intelligence of an amoeba. “Uber.”
“Nothing’s available! Please. Ihaveto get to the Ronald Reagan Medical Center.”
Definitely a scammer. I’d bet both my balls my car didn’t touch this crazy woman, and if she thinks this is her payday…
Well, she thought wrong. And she’s stupid to assume that sticking her fingers into my window will keep me from leaving. I will not be manipulated, especially not by some third-rate loser who thinks she’s smarter than me. She’ll pull those fingers out fast when I floor it. If she doesn’t, she’ll get hurt, but that’s her problem, not mine.
“Better luck next time, sweetheart,” I grind out. “Sure you’ll be able to find a more malleable sucker somewhere in this city.”
“Please! Ihaveto get to my mom!”
The shakiness in her voice makes me hesitate. Or maybe it’s the desperation in those wide, baby-blue eyes.
She’s probably a serial killer,says the cold, rational part of my mind that enabled me to graduate top of my class at Harvard.
Grandma’s meddlesome voice joins in.Yes, definitely a serial killer. If you’d just stayed here at home like I offered, then you wouldn’t be dealing with this.
My head throbs. The last person I want to think about is my grandmother.
“Please.” It’s more a sob than a word.
On cue, the rain pours down even harder. I look around, searching for the girl’s car. Nothing. I’m the only person on the road because nobody else in SoCal is dumb enough to drive in this weather at this hour.
I should just leave—it’s the smart thing to do. But what little humanity is left in me says I can’t abandon her like this. I wouldn’t be able to bear the guilt if on tomorrow’s news there was a story about something terrible happening to a lone woman who just wanted to go to a hospital.
My hands flex and unflex around the steering wheel. If she’s crazy, I can handle her. And driving her to the medical center won’t be a big deal. It’s worth a clean conscience and all that.
“Get in.” My voice is anything but gracious, but she doesn’t complain as she runs around and hops in, dripping all over the brand-new leather seat.
Without commenting on that, I take off toward the hospital.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “I’ll pay you for the ride.”
The sincerity in her voice is amusing for its naïveté. “Do I look like an Uber to you?”
“In this car? No. Which is why what you’re doing means so much.” She looks at me like I’ve single-handedly slain a dragon and solved world hunger, making me want to squirm. I’m not the heroic type by any means. At the same time, it soothes my temper, frayed from having to deal with my irritating family who can’t even abide by their own promises.
It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, since she’s so wet, but her eyes are beautiful, with long, dark lashes and slightly slanted outer corners. Expressive, too. Exactly the kind Dad would love, except she should stay away from any man like my father. He impregnated seven women in a four-monthspan, which is how I was born, along with six half-brothers. Supposedly he hasn’t made any more babies, but I’m not so sure his second vasectomy has held. It failed before; it could fail again.
But hopefully he’s sterile now. The world doesn’t need more children to suffer through fucked-up childhoods.
The girl rubs her arms. Soon her teeth are chattering loudly enough that I can hear them over Beethoven. The A/C is blowing icy air, which is how I like it, but it’s probably too chilly for her. I turn it down. “Better?”
“Thank you.” Her beautiful eyes focus me, then crinkle as she smiles. “You’re really nice.”
“It’s just the A/C,” I say gruffly, slightly uncomfortable at the thanks.
The warm smile she flashes at me lances my heart. “Yeah, but a lot of people wouldn’t notice. Or maybe wouldn’t care.” She sniffs.
More like she’s surrounded by assholes who don’t give a damn about anybody. I keep my mouth shut to discourage her from sharing more.
“My half-sister wrecked my car and didn’t bother to get it repaired yet,” she says, then expels a frustrated breath.
