Page 19 of Omega

“My name is Harris. And no. Not while I’m driving a half-million-dollar automobile.” He didn’t flinch, didn’t bat her hand away, and didn’t look at her. “Ask me later, though, and I might have a different answer.”

Not the response she was expecting, I gathered. She snorted and turned away, catching a glimpse of Roth, who was barely restraining open laughter.

“Glad you think this is funny, Roth,” she snapped.

“Oh, I do. Very much so.” Roth gestured at Harris, chuckling. “You’ve managed to fluster Harris, and that is no mean feat, I assure you. Harris is so unflappable he could be British.”

Harris shook his head. “Very funny…sir.”

This only made Roth laugh even harder. “So it’s sir, now, is it? You never call me sir.”

I had to defuse this, somehow. “I feel like we’ve gotten off-topic, here. Layla, you were going to say something about stopping somewhere?”

She tossed her thick, curly black hair. “Never mind. I ain’t even hungry anymore.”

Uh-oh. Layla rarely reverted back to what she referred to as “old Layla” slang. She’d grown up in a pretty rough area, and her manner of speech had shown that. She’d worked hard to eradicate it, and had taught herself to speak more properly, even if she still swore like a sailor. But when she wasreallyupset she’d speak in street-slang.

“Layla, I—”

She raised the privacy glass, cutting me off.

Roth glanced at me. “That was unexpected.”

“She gets prickly when she feels like she’s on the defensive.”

“She going to be okay?”

I shrugged. “Eventually. Layla is Layla. You can never tell with her.”

“YOU KNOW I CAN HEAR YOU, RIGHT?” Layla shouted. She lowered the glass again. “I amnotprickly, and I amnotunpredictable. Jesus.”

I had to laugh at that. “Layla, come on—”

“Just—shut up, Key. You’re just gonna piss me off even more.”

“Please, Kyrie,” Harris cut in. “Whatever you do, don’t piss her off anymore. I have to ride with her up here.”

“Oh shut your fucking mouth, Mister Unflappable.”

“You first, Miss Blowjobs-for-Everyone.”

“Oh…shit,” I murmured.

“I didn’t mean—” Layla started, and then shut her mouth on her words so fast her teeth clicked. “You know what? I don’t owe you dick for explanations. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“That’s what it sounded like to me.” Harris was speaking as calmly as ever, but there was something in his voice, a hint of ire, a note of irritation…something I’d never heard before.

“I was making a point.”

“About how much you love blowjobs. Point taken.”

Layla hissed. “About how my decisions are mine to make and I won’t be judged for them!”

“I’m not judging. I have not uttered a single word in judgment. I haven’t said one syllable that could be construed as negative towards you in any way, Miss Campari—Layla, I mean.”

“It’s the way you’re looking at me. Or not looking at me.” She sounded petulant, and less sure of herself, somehow.

“Then you’re misconstruing the way I’m looking at you. And, honestly, my focus has been on the road, not you.”