Page 60 of Drive

“I love their story,” I said wistfully, “him and Pam.”

“It was dysfunctional as hell,” Reid pointed out.

“It was rock ’n’ roll,” I said with a shrug. “Love and rock ’n’ roll love stories aren’t for the faint of heart. Look at Elvis, he was a glorified pedophile and so was Jerry Lee Lewis. But they are legends. And despite their crazy shit, they loved the same women their whole life.”

“Elvis and Priscilla got divorced.”

“You are definitely a pessimist in his prime,” I said, repeating Ben’s words.

Reid looked over at me skeptically. “Nothing about you, Stella, says you’d be cool with that kind of life.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“No?” he asked, baited.

I shrugged. “The women behind these guys get overlooked so often. It’s sad really. The first wives especially. They are usually the ones down from day one. They invest all their time, raise that first kid that often grows up to be a total spoiled fuckup, and gets left for wife number two. They just forget about them.”

“And you aren’t worried about that because?”

“Because I will not be forgotten, Reid Crowne,” I said with a wink. “Now, let us go see my new castle.”

My castle turned out to be a sheet-white two-bedroom slum with ruined carpet.

“We’re going to replace the carpet,” the manager said as I stared at the large brown stain in the middle of the sad excuse of a living room.

I looked at Reid. “Rumor has it Cobain lived under a bridge. I can starve for my art.”

Reid shook his head and grabbed my hand before he addressed the manager. “No, thank you.”

The second complex looked far better than the first. I breathed out a sigh of relief when the manager opened the door and there was clean carpet and fresh paint on the walls. It was also only a twenty-minute walk to the restaurant. When Lexi couldn’t take me, it would be an easy commute. The light switches worked, and the cars in the parking lot weren’t leaking oil.

“I’ll take it,” I said proudly as Reid gave me a nod of approval.

Finally.FREE.

“First month’s rent is half off,” the manager said as he ushered us back into the heat.

I gave Reid a sarcastic grin and my best Texas accent. “Looks like we’re eatin’ steak tonight, honey!”

He just shook his head and walked out the door.

After an hour of paperwork, I had a move-in date. One week. I swallowed that information as I joined Reid in the truck, where he patiently waited.

“Hi,” I said, swallowing the dry air, jumping in the truck, lifting my hair, and fanning my neck.

“You get it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, clenching and unclenching my fists. As it turned out, thathalf-offthe first month didn’t include theone-timefee for this and the nickel and dime for that. I was flat broke and had already overstayed my welcome at his apartment.

“Stella.” Reid was staring at me as I began to panic.

I had maxed out my emergency credit card fixing my car the last time it broke down. And the rest I had saved was in a no-touch bank account that my parents monitored for my tuition.

Broke. It was hopeless.

“Stella?”

I put my head in my hands as I tried not to cry. “Can you take me to the restaurant, please?”