Thirty and a Half Excuses
Page 72
Sighing, I headed to the door with her. How did I get myself into these situations? “I came here with the assistant DA,” I said. “He’s not going to be happy when he notices I’m gone.”
While I thought that might help her change her mind, it seemed to have the opposite effect. The gun jammed into my ribs, and I cried out in pain and fright.
“The DA brought you here, himself, huh? Is he about to file charges against you for stealing what’s mine?”
“No, he’s protecting me.”
She laughed. “He’s doin’ a shitty job of it, ain’t he?”
I grimaced. “It’s obviously not turning out as I had hoped.”
Her car was close to the entrance, parked at an angle in the middle of the parking lot. She hadn’t even bothered to find a parking space, blocking in Mason’s car and several police cruisers.
Christy made me get behind the wheel while she sat beside me in the passenger’s seat. “I’m sure you know how to get to Jonah’s house.”
I hated to admit that I did, but that seemed to be the least of my worries at the moment. “This is a stick shift.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t drive a stick shift.”
“You’re a lying whore. Drive.”
Pointing a gun at me was one thing, but she had just besmirched my character. “A lying whore? Why are you callin’ me that?”
Her eyebrows arched, and she stared at me like I was an imbecile. “Sleeping with a minister and stealing other people’s money makes you a lying whore.”
“I’m not sleeping with him. How do you get that from us talking to each other?”
“I know these things!” she screamed, jabbing the gun wildly in my direction. “Now drive.”
My shaky hand turned the key over, and my mind raced as I tried to remember the one and only time I’d driven a stick-shift car. I’d visited Aunt Bessie and Uncle Earl on their farm, and Uncle Earl had tried to teach me on his old truck. Key word: tried.
Foot on the clutch. Move the stick. I followed my own instructions, and the car didn’t move. Instead, it started rolling.
“What are you doing?” Christy shrieked. “Get going!”
“I told you that I can’t drive a stick shift. I’m trying.”
The car rolled, stopping when I banged into the sheriff’s patrol car.
“You just hit a police car!”
“I didn’t mean to! Stop shouting at me! You’re making me nervous!” I let my foot off the clutch and the car jerked, hitting the patrol car again. “Crap!”
Christy grabbed the stick with her free hand. “Put your foot on the clutch and the brake.”
I did what she instructed, although I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps the gun she had pointed at me was all the persuasion I needed.
She gave me instructions, and we jerked and screeched our way onto Highway 82. The car made such a racket, I couldn’t believe no one had come to investigate. But I was grateful they hadn’t. I didn’t doubt Christy would use the weapon if backed into a corner.
We made it to Jonah’s house, and I parked at his curb while my mind scrambled to cobble together some kind of plan. Would she shoot Jonah? “Christy, I know you need money, but there’s another way. I promise you.”
She waved her gun around in the air. “Another way than gettin’ what’s rightfully mine? Good, then I’ll have even more money. Let’s go.”
We walked up to Jonah’s front door, and my palms started to sweat. If I went inside that house with her, I was sure this wouldn’t end well. She knocked on the door, and we waited long enough for her to knock again. When he didn’t answer, she jammed the gun into my side again. “Where is he?’
“How should I know?”
“You two are sleepin’ together, ain’t you? Surely, you know his schedule.”
I cringed in disgust. “Eww! No! I am not sleeping with him.” An image of Jonah Pruitt naked flashed into my head. I suddenly felt the urge to take a shower.
“Like you’d admit to it. Open the door.”
I jiggled the door knob, grateful it was locked.
Christy kicked the door, and then yelped in pain. “Where is he?”
I tried to back up but she grabbed my arm, her fingers pinching my skin. “I don’t know. The church?”
She pushed me toward the car, telling me to drive again. This was ridiculous. “You should drive,” I told her. “I’m terrible at driving a stick. People in town are bound to notice. What if the police pull me over for drunk driving?”
“I can’t drive and hold a gun on you at the same time.”
“I won’t do anything. I promise. Just don’t make me drive.”
She chewed on her fingers as she considered it. “Okay, but you can’t run away.”
I nodded, not actually saying the words.
We got back into the car, and she set the gun on her lap. Guilt ate at my conscience. The lying part of the lying whore was turning out to be true. But I had no choice.
I needed to distract her as much as possible, so I started peppering her with questions. “Aren’t you supposed to be back in Shreveport by now? I thought you had to get back.”
Her upper lip curled in disgust. “Did your boyfriend tell you that?”
I shuddered. “Jonah Pruitt is not my boyfriend. And no, Bruce Wayne and David told me that you needed to take care of your aunt’s house so you could get back.”
While I thought that might help her change her mind, it seemed to have the opposite effect. The gun jammed into my ribs, and I cried out in pain and fright.
“The DA brought you here, himself, huh? Is he about to file charges against you for stealing what’s mine?”
“No, he’s protecting me.”
She laughed. “He’s doin’ a shitty job of it, ain’t he?”
I grimaced. “It’s obviously not turning out as I had hoped.”
Her car was close to the entrance, parked at an angle in the middle of the parking lot. She hadn’t even bothered to find a parking space, blocking in Mason’s car and several police cruisers.
Christy made me get behind the wheel while she sat beside me in the passenger’s seat. “I’m sure you know how to get to Jonah’s house.”
I hated to admit that I did, but that seemed to be the least of my worries at the moment. “This is a stick shift.”
“So?”
“So, I can’t drive a stick shift.”
“You’re a lying whore. Drive.”
Pointing a gun at me was one thing, but she had just besmirched my character. “A lying whore? Why are you callin’ me that?”
Her eyebrows arched, and she stared at me like I was an imbecile. “Sleeping with a minister and stealing other people’s money makes you a lying whore.”
“I’m not sleeping with him. How do you get that from us talking to each other?”
“I know these things!” she screamed, jabbing the gun wildly in my direction. “Now drive.”
My shaky hand turned the key over, and my mind raced as I tried to remember the one and only time I’d driven a stick-shift car. I’d visited Aunt Bessie and Uncle Earl on their farm, and Uncle Earl had tried to teach me on his old truck. Key word: tried.
Foot on the clutch. Move the stick. I followed my own instructions, and the car didn’t move. Instead, it started rolling.
“What are you doing?” Christy shrieked. “Get going!”
“I told you that I can’t drive a stick shift. I’m trying.”
The car rolled, stopping when I banged into the sheriff’s patrol car.
“You just hit a police car!”
“I didn’t mean to! Stop shouting at me! You’re making me nervous!” I let my foot off the clutch and the car jerked, hitting the patrol car again. “Crap!”
Christy grabbed the stick with her free hand. “Put your foot on the clutch and the brake.”
I did what she instructed, although I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps the gun she had pointed at me was all the persuasion I needed.
She gave me instructions, and we jerked and screeched our way onto Highway 82. The car made such a racket, I couldn’t believe no one had come to investigate. But I was grateful they hadn’t. I didn’t doubt Christy would use the weapon if backed into a corner.
We made it to Jonah’s house, and I parked at his curb while my mind scrambled to cobble together some kind of plan. Would she shoot Jonah? “Christy, I know you need money, but there’s another way. I promise you.”
She waved her gun around in the air. “Another way than gettin’ what’s rightfully mine? Good, then I’ll have even more money. Let’s go.”
We walked up to Jonah’s front door, and my palms started to sweat. If I went inside that house with her, I was sure this wouldn’t end well. She knocked on the door, and we waited long enough for her to knock again. When he didn’t answer, she jammed the gun into my side again. “Where is he?’
“How should I know?”
“You two are sleepin’ together, ain’t you? Surely, you know his schedule.”
I cringed in disgust. “Eww! No! I am not sleeping with him.” An image of Jonah Pruitt naked flashed into my head. I suddenly felt the urge to take a shower.
“Like you’d admit to it. Open the door.”
I jiggled the door knob, grateful it was locked.
Christy kicked the door, and then yelped in pain. “Where is he?”
I tried to back up but she grabbed my arm, her fingers pinching my skin. “I don’t know. The church?”
She pushed me toward the car, telling me to drive again. This was ridiculous. “You should drive,” I told her. “I’m terrible at driving a stick. People in town are bound to notice. What if the police pull me over for drunk driving?”
“I can’t drive and hold a gun on you at the same time.”
“I won’t do anything. I promise. Just don’t make me drive.”
She chewed on her fingers as she considered it. “Okay, but you can’t run away.”
I nodded, not actually saying the words.
We got back into the car, and she set the gun on her lap. Guilt ate at my conscience. The lying part of the lying whore was turning out to be true. But I had no choice.
I needed to distract her as much as possible, so I started peppering her with questions. “Aren’t you supposed to be back in Shreveport by now? I thought you had to get back.”
Her upper lip curled in disgust. “Did your boyfriend tell you that?”
I shuddered. “Jonah Pruitt is not my boyfriend. And no, Bruce Wayne and David told me that you needed to take care of your aunt’s house so you could get back.”
