Page 182 of Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched

I patted my body. It had gotten a lot colder outside, but hey, it wasn’t raining and that was a win.

“We’re never going to get a cab this late.”

I had nothing on me to call an Uber or even Martel to come get us. “Maybe I left my stuff at dinner.” I couldn’t remember.

“Goodnight, guys!” Darnell called as he carried his equipment out to an emerald-green Monte Carlo.

“Whoa.” I stepped off the curb and my foot landed in a puddle, drenching my shoe. “Oh, man. My pretty shoes.”

“Careful.” Barrett caught my arm to steady me. “We need to find a taxi.”

I searched the empty street. “Maybe a Lyft?”

“Right.” He patted his pockets then frowned. “Shit.”

“What shit?”

“My phone.” When he pulled the door to the bar, it was locked. “No!” He pounded his fist on the darkened window. “Hey, my phone’s in there!”

But the place was locked and all the lights were out. The bartender must have gone out the back.

“Barrett?” I shivered, wrapping my arms around my chest as I began to really regret how much I drank. “Please tell me we have a way to get home.”

He looked back at me and I knew by the regret in his eyes that we were fucked.

The Snozzberries Taste like Snozzberries

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” I stamped my wet foot. “Barrett, we need a phone!”

“I’m trying.” He pounded on the window, but no one answered the door. “Damn it!” He snapped, dragging his hands through his hair as he paced the cracked pavement.

A sharp whistle snagged our attention and Darnell pointed to his car. “If you guys want, I can give you a ride home. I just have to make a few stops along the way.”

Barrett and I exchanged glances and he nodded. “Thanks. We really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem, my man. Hop in.”

I rounded the car with one wet foot and Barrett waved me toward the front passenger door. “No way,” I hissed, pushing him to the front seat as I angled for the back.

Every single exposed inch of the interior was upholstered in red velvet. Blue accent lights illuminated the space and gold ruching trimmed the seats. The steering wheel was a silver chain and the car reeked of skunk.

Darnell got behind the wheel. “Can I interest you guys in some Mary-J-Weedies?” He held out a thickly packed blunt the size of a baby’s arm. Was he planning on smoking that while he drove?

“No thanks,” Barrett said.

“Suit yourself.” Darnell lit the reefer and pulled out of the parking spot. “So, where ya’ll from?”

“California.”

“Oregon.” I cocked my head at Barrett. “You’re from California?”

“Originally.”

“Don’t you two know each other?”

It occurred to me there was a lot about Barrett’s life I still didn’t know. “I’m marrying his brother.”

“Mozel tov!” A plume of smoke blew from Darrell’s lips and hung beneath the red velvet ceiling of the car.

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