Page 138 of Exodus

“I wasn’t planning on driving.”

He doesn’t spare me a glance when his call is connected. “Hey, get a blue light at the bar.”

A pause.

“A ride.” Pause. “Cecelia.”

I faintly hear a voice on the other end. “They aren’t a taxi service. You take her.”

Sean.

“Get someone here, now.”

“All tied up right now, boss. Deal with it.”

Sobering, I walk over to where he stands. “Is that Sean?”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“I’ll figure it out,” Tobias snaps, ending the call and taking another drag.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“This?” he asks, before blowing out a plume of smoke. “This is just to keep my hands occupied to prevent myself from strangling you.”

“Har har,” I counter. “You never smoked when we were together.”

“You mean all of the five minutes we were together?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know you. It’s insulting.”

He draws on the cigarette and glares at me.

“So, you have the cops in your pocket now, huh? Well, thanks for getting my car impounded, asshole. And if this isn’t a game and you’re not playing, then why the shady move?”

“You have no fucking business speeding around smoking dope.”

“Last time I checked, my father’s urn is sitting in his mansion.”

“When are you going to fucking grow up? You need a reality check.”

“Oh, trust me, this trip down memory lane has been nothing short of sobering. But if I’m going to suffer through it, I’m going to numb as much as I can, because no one seems to want to help me out here, you’ve made sure of it!”

“That’s your cue to leave. But you seem to be missing those.”

“And just who in the hell do you think you are telling me where I can and cannot be? You might own half the businesses in this town, but you don’t own me. You think I’m childish? How childish is it to tell me I can’t take a turn on your playground? Especially with the price of admission tattooed on my back!”

We glower at each other for endless seconds before he draws on his cigarette and tosses it, grinding it out with the heel of his glossed shoe.

It’s the sound of a car door opening and closing that cuts our argument, drawing both our eyes to the source. All words fail me as a gorgeous, dark-haired woman approaches, her eyes on Tobias. She’s polished from head to heel, her hair dark spun silk, a curtain of it draped over her shoulders.

She’s stunning.

Stunning. And familiar.

“Alicia?”

Her eyes flit to mine. “Hello, Cecelia.”

---