“I’m going to come out that way,” he said, like it’d been his idea all along. “Slowly.”
I nodded, and I didn’t know whether or not my hand on the door helped anything, like was it just enough of a counterweight to keep him from sliding into the lake, but I kept it there. Held on tightly while he crawled over the middle console and onto the leather passenger seat.
The interior of the Audi smelled like new leather, and from what I could see, the car was a beaut. But the back end was smashed and, the way it had crumpled, maybe the back axle was broken, as well. There was no repairing any of it. The car could only be sold for parts, if anyone cared to drag it out of the lake, that is.
For now, the car stayed stable while the man clambered out—he was pretty nimble for all he was so muscled and tall. I held onto the car while he grabbed a fancy black leather duffle bag and a matching overnight bag. You know, the kind on rollers that folks are sure is not too big to stuff into the overhead. But then, he would have travelled first class, and it wouldn’t have mattered how much luggage he had, as those overheads are enormous.
“Everything?” I asked. My hand was turning into one giant cramp and was turning blue on account of I didn’t have any gloves.
He looked at me. “Everything that matters.”
Obviously, the car didn’t matter at all. It was a rental and he could probably afford another one just like it and then some.
The second he was out of the car, I let go of the door, and yanked him back, grabbing onto his elbow, cause he was kind of standing there like a dumb fuck watching the Audi slide slowly, slowly along the icy shoulder, and over the edge. When it fell, there was a loud crack and the sound of metal crumpling, both sounds echoing across the frozen lake.
He looked at me, as white as the snow all around us.
He also looked like he wanted to barf, but he was way too manly for that. Then he got this I’m-in-charge expression that I wanted nothing to do with, cause he wasn’t the boss of me.
So I bent and grabbed a fresh clump of snow in my very cold hand, lifted my arm, and placed it on his temple, where it was bleeding.
“What the hell?” He clamped his hand over mine and there we were holding hands, kinda sorta, with my hand to his face like we were in a scene from some crazy gay holiday rom-com, and after a second he took his hand away.
“You’re bleeding a little bit,” I said. “Maybe you smacked your head. It doesn’t look bad, but you are bleeding, and I don’t want you to get any nasty stains on that fine collar of yours.”
With a nod, he bent and picked up some snow, pushed myhand away with the edge of his wrist, and put his own snow on his own head. I flicked bloodstained snow from my hand, leaving red circles on the white, and then he took his hand away and did the same.
“It’s fine,” he said, looking around as he pushed his shoulders back in a determined way. Red-tinged water slid down the side of his face. The collar of his coat was a darker wool than the rest of it. He kind of looked like he’d once been wearing a silk scarf, but that was probably at the bottom of the lake. “What do we do now?”
It wasn’t really a question. It sounded more like he was starting a to-do list that only he knew the contents of.
I looked up the road and squinted through the snow that batted at my eyelashes. For some reason, it’d taken me until now to realize there were no other cars on the road. That is, except for one snow-ladened state trooper car coming slowly in the single lane going down hill.
The trooper went right across the uphill lanes like he had the whole planet to himself and was unconcerned that he might get sideswiped by some asshat who didn’t see him. That was because there was nobody else on the road.
My suspicion that the road was getting shut down was confirmed when he walked over to us in his state trooper snow boots and his brown jacket with the Colorado state emblem on it.
There was the same emblem on his state trooper hat, complete with plastic snow guard, and also there was were a string of electric Christmas lights around the brim. I could see the single black cord going inside his jacket, like that’s where the little battery was. The lights blinked on and off, then blinked on and off again, red, green, blue, white, gold. Over and over. Ho-ho-ho.
The trooper shook his head, sending flakes of snoweverywhere, and tugged on the edges of his super state trooper mittens.
“Looks like you had an accident,” said the state trooper, stating the obvious.
“I hit some ice, I think,” said the guy, not mentioning my thwarted attempt to pass him, which might or might not have added to the accident. Nor did he mention that all the other cars on the highway had been racing past him like they’d been shot out of a cannon.
“Let me get your info, sir, just in case.” The trooper pulled out his pad, and I had no idea what just-in-case was all about, or maybe he was just bored and wanted to fill out paperwork for a car that was most obviously at the bottom of a frozen lake and of no use to anybody.
The guy pulled out his wallet and handed his driver’s license to the state trooper. Then he snorted a laugh and said, “My registration and insurance are at the bottom of the lake, sir.”
This made me laugh too, though it wasn’t my joke.
The trooper wrote some stuff down, then paused to read the name on the driver’s license. “Alexander James Westmore. Where you headed, sir?”
“Up to Steamboat Springs,” said Alexander-James-Freaking-Westmore. “Call me Alex, please.”
“And you, sir?” the state trooper asked me. “What’s your name? Is that your Volvo?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s my rental.”
