Page 10 of Tempest

This fucking car nearly clipped mine, and I swear to fucking God—

A guy in a cheap suit gets out of the driver’s side, opening his passenger’s door as if I weren’t parked at an angle in an attempt to leave.

“Yo, what’s your problem?” I clip out as I lift out of my car. “You colorblind? Blinker-averse? Able to pay for the million fucking dollars in damages I’ll bury you in if you hurt this beauty?”

The chauffer ignores me, retreating when a lithe, older gentleman peels out of the passenger side, straightening his Armani lapels and catching me with hooded, black eyes.

“Tempest Callahan,” he says in a low, throaty voice. “I wouldn’t think this would be your type of function. Now, your father I’d expect. Or your mother. How are they, by the way?” A glimmer of a smile hits his lips. “And your beautiful sister. How is she?”

Fuck.

Fuck me.

I don’t answer him.

I pivot, pushing through the crowd in search of the girls so I can get them the hell out of here.

---