Page 3 of Hell Bent
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Get her an elastic bandage, if she needs it? Ice packs? You’re supposed to be a take-charge guy. She’s hurt. Take charge.”
“Anastasia,” the date said. Warningly, or as a rebuke. It pissed me off.
“Don’t call me that. I’ve told you I don’t like it.” Her voice was still low, but it was firm.
The asshole was starting to talk, but I’d had enough. I asked the blonde, “Do you mind if I look at it?”
“Oh.” She looked at her date as if for permission. “Sure, I guess. I’d?—”
“Imind,” the asshole said. “What the hell?”
“It’s not your ankle,” I told him. “And she said yes.” I crouched down and palpated it, and felt her wince. Moved itgently, and felt her wince more. “I don’t feel a break,” I said, “but I’m guessing you sprained it. Definitely an elastic bandage and ice packs. Elevate it, too. And if it’s bad in the morning, get it X-rayed to make sure.”
“For falling off her shoes,” the asshole said.
Headlights. Not my Uber, but the valet pulling in at the wheel of a Porsche. He hopped out, and a couple who’d been standing in the doorway, out of the wind, headed to the curb. The valet took his tip, but before he’d managed to say, “Thank you, sir,” the asshole was pushing his own ticket into the guy’s hand and saying, “Here. Put some speed on it, would you? I’ve been standing here half the night.”
My Uber was pulling up just as the Porsche was pulling out, but somehow, I wasn’t getting in. Maybe because the brunette came out of the restaurant, held up the phone, and said, “Ta-da. It was on the seat in the booth. Probably fell out of your purse.”
“Oh, thanks,” the blonde said.
“How’s your ankle?” the brunette asked.
“Sprained,” I said. “At least. Rest, ice, compression, elevation.”
“Oh,” the blonde said. “I don’t?—”
I said, “I’ll take you to get them,” and held open the door of the Uber. “Get in.” I had time, so why not? It wasn’t getting involved. It was a quick detour on the way back to the hotel.
She hesitated, and the brunette—Alix, or Anastasia, or whoever—said, “She’s not going to get into a car with a stranger. Has your life actually been this devoid of women?”
I didn’t say that generally, women invited themselves into my car. I said, for some reason, “It’s an Uber. My power to abduct anybody from it is probably limited. But fine. Come with us.”
“At which point,” she said, “there will betwowomen in a car with a strange man.”
“Yes,” I said, “but one of them can so clearly take care of herself.” At which she smiled. First time I’d seen it, and it made that soft face look sweeter than ever. Odd, because she seemed plenty tough to me. “Your boyfriend can come too, if he likes,” I added.
“Look, man,” the quiet guy said to the other guy. “I’ll, uh … I should probably go with the girls. We could get another Uber. I mean, a different one.”
“Like hell,” the asshole said. “I drove us here, and I’ll drive us home.”
I waited. There was no reason for me to involve myself in any of this.
Alix decided it. She told her date, “I’m cold. Time to go. Come with us or don’t, but tell me which.”
What did he do? Looked at the asshole again. Alix said, “Fine,” grabbed the door of my Uber, and said, “Come on, Sabrina. Let’s go with the nice man and find a store that’s open late.” Upon which she climbed inside—thatwasa very good ass—and Sabrina climbed in beside her after one last look at the asshole.
Kind of like kids cutting class. Like an adventure. I wasn’t in the market for adventures, but still.
2
NOT THE HAPSBURG JAW
Alix
Sabrina said, “Brian’s going to be so mad.” She giggled, then put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry?” I asked, then tapped Wolf Guy on his very solid shoulder—the green plaid shirtwasflannel—and said, “Walgreen’s on Castro Street, for the app.”
