Page 25 of Something Tattered
And as far as the house? Yes, it was big and impressive, but I maintained it on my own.
I was the maid. I was the gardener. I mopped the floors and mowed the lawn. In a weird, twisted arrangement, the estate actually paid me for some of these services, but the amount sucked, and I was still broke.
I practically snorted. "A driver?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry, but I sent him out." I gave the painter a sarcastic smile. "For caviar."
His eyebrows lifted. "Caviar?"
"Yes." My mouth tightened. "And a yacht."
He looked at me for a long, silent moment. Whether he caught the joke, I had no idea.
Finally, he said, "I'm just saying, you shouldn't be getting in a car with some guy you barely know." His voice hardened. "It's a dangerous habit."
"I don't make a 'habit' of it," I told him. "It was just one of those things. Youdoremember that my car broke down, right?"
"I remember."
"So, what is this?" I said. "A lecture?"
"I'm just saying, someone like you? Should be more careful."
"Someone like me?" My voice rose. "What, like too rich and stupid to drive my own car?"
"No. Like too trusting." He looked away. "And too pretty to be out here alone."
My lips parted, but no words came out. He thought I was pretty? If so, that was news to me. Without thinking, I asked, "Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" He made a point to look around. "This road? At night? With almost zero traffic and a big-ass ditch? It's like something from a bad movie."
His response felt like a non-answer. Still, I knew exactly the kind of movie he meant, the kind where buxom hitchhikers meet their untimely doom, thanks to bad luck and worse judgment.
The thought wasn't exactly comforting.
Behind us, the truck still hadn't moved. I looked to the painter and said, "Can we just go? Please?"
He spared me half a glance. "If you wanna go, buckle up."
Eager to move this along, I reached for the seatbelt and fastened it over my lap. When I finished, I looked to the painter and hesitated.Hewasn't wearing a seatbelt. "What about you?" I asked. "How come you're not buckled up?"
"No seatbelt."
"Really?" I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Is that even legal?"
He gave something like a shrug. "Don't worry about it."
But Iwasworried. Safety aside, I knew the answer to my last question. And even if I didn't? There was a helpful road sign, literally one car-length ahead. The sign said,Buckle Up. It's the Law.
I pointed. "Youdosee that sign, right?"
"I see it."
If he'd grown up anywhere in the state, he would've seen a hundred signs just like it. So I had to ask, "Then why don't you have a seatbelt?"
"Because the car was in storage."
