He really was James Bond.
She inclined her chin. “I don’t know what’s worse, the big-ass SUV—”
“A rental.”
“Or this tiny-ass Speed Racer, James Bond vehicle.”
“It’s a 911.”
“Can I drive it?”
“I’d prefer to Die Another Day.”
“I didn’t mean right now.”
He opened the door for her, and she folded into the vehicle. “‘Go, Speed Racer, go,’” she sang quietly. The door shut next to her.
Carter revved the car to life, the engine roaring like a chainsaw. His hand enveloped the silver gear shifter, and Perdie stared in fascination when he maneuvered their way out of the tiny space and sped down the empty side street, eventually exiting the peninsula and merging onto the Ravenel Bridge.
Perdie zoned out, hypnotized by the structured white beams zooming past as Carter shifted gears smooth as butter. The boat lights twinkled over the murky waters of the harbor surrounding them.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” The sides of Carter’s lips tugged upwards.
She groaned. “I’ll let you know tomorrow morning.”
“You want to see me in the morning?”
Perdie rolled her head on the headrest. “You always talk about these games we play, but you don’t really like to play games at all, do you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“You, like...” she paused, concentrating on her words “...say how you feel.”
A slow smile spread over his face. “I’d grab your hand right now, if I didn’t have to shift gears.”
Perdie scrunched her nose. “Never met anyone like you.”
“That a bad thing?”
“Magic 8 Ball says ‘Reply hazy ask again later.’”
Carter chuckled. “And you say I’m weird.”
“Sixty-nine, sixty-nine,” she squealed as they arrived at Perdie’s gated entrance.
Amusement glinted in his eyes, and he punched the code in. “Thanks, I hadn’t forgotten.”
But Perdie was developing a weird feeling in her chest. The stress, the party, the sex, and most importantly all that mixed-up liquor-drinking had caught up with her. When Carter pulled up in front of her building, she hastily unlatched her seat belt and practically tumbled out of the car.
“Hey, why don’t you let me walk you upstairs?”
“No.” She steadied herself with both hands over the top of the passenger window. “You’ll make me cry again.”
Carter squinted, confused. “Perdie, I don’t under—”
But she was already hobbling up the stairs of her condo. She needed water. Yoga pants. Hell, underwear. And her head was spinning. The cold wind whipped around her.
When she got to her door, she leaned against the wooden railing by the stairs, giving Carter a big wave. “Bye,” she called. His expression remained bewildered but he complied, peeling slowly out of her parking lot when she opened the front door.
She stepped into the empty, dark space, a few bulbs twinkling from the baseboards, and hit the lights. That’s right. Lucille was gone. Nobody was home. Well, except for Bananas, thank god. She called for him, clapping against her thigh until the jingle of his collar broke through the silence in the house. He stretched long and yawned once near her feet, and she scooped him up, plopped down on the couch, and tugged a blanket on top of them.
“Bananas, you’re not gonna believe what your mommy did,” she mused absently as she stroked his head.
The wind was picking up pace and the trees were whirring a mournful howl. She hugged Bananas, suddenly wide awake.
Lucille was worried about Perdie being alone during the holidays for good reason. Namely, the paranoia that was brewing now.
Bam.
She jerked at a tree branch smacking against her window.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
She grabbed her phone, clutching it close as she typed.
P: Creepy noises outside. Freaking out.
Lucille: Oh god, it’s not Hampton, is it? Set the house alarm!
