Page 9 of One Good Crash
The first guy explained, "A different car."
"Really?" I just had to ask, "How many cars to you have?"
"A few."
"How many is a few?"
He gave it some thought. "Seven. No. Eight."
I couldn’t help but laugh. "What? You can't keep track?"
"Hang on," he said. "Are we counting trucks, too?"
"Uh, yes?"
"Then make it nine."
I had no idea what to say to that. I heard myself mumble, "Well, I hope you have a big garage."
While we'd been talking, my mom had been sidling ever closer to the new guy. When he turned to look at her, she batted her eyelashes up at him and asked, "How about you? How many cars doyouhave?"
The guy looked at her for a long, cold moment before saying, "None."
"But that can't be true." She pointed toward the crash. "I mean, you have at least one, right?" She edged a fraction closer and said in that breathy way of hers, "You won't believe this, but that's my absolute dream car."
"Oh, I believe it," the guy said.
My mom practically giggled. "I know, right?" She gazed up at him and said, "So maybe you'll give me a ride sometime?"
Well, this wasn't embarrassing or anything.
Reluctantly, I turned to look at the first guy, the one who'd been subjected to the same pickup line just minutes earlier.
He was watching their exchange with an expression that I couldn’t quite make out. But soon, as if feeling my gaze, he turned his head in my direction and gave me the hint of a smile. From the look in his eyes, he was amused as hell.
Well, that made one of us.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I looked away just as my mom made another bid for a ride in the crashed car.
The brother was saying, "Forget it."
Her lips formed a pretty little pout. "Why? Because it has to be repaired?"
"No. Because you're scaring the shit out of me."
She gave him a playful swat to the arm. "Oh, please. A big, strong guy like you?"
I blurted out, "Aren't you running late?"
In unison, my mom and the brother turned to look. My mom's gaze narrowed. "Don't worry. We've got plenty of time."
While we'd been talking, the limo driver had pushed himself up to a standing position. Looking decidedly disgruntled, he said to my mom, "That's not what you said a minute ago."
My mom blinked. "What?"
His expression darkened. "Yeah. And thanks for the concern."
She gave him a perplexed look. "What do you mean?"
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