Page 64 of Vas

“I like whatever makes you happy.”

He rolled to hover over her and planted both elbows on the bed on either side of her, cupping her face in his hands. “You make me happy.”

“Then I say go for it.”

He brushed his thumbs along the soft skin of her jaw. “I’ve got my eye on a 1967 Chevy Camaro. It’s in San Diego. Do you want to take a drive down there to see it with me?”

“I’ve got this Thursday and Friday off. Can we go then?”

“I’ll make the phone call. Tell the guy we’re coming.” He kissed her.

Then he kissed her again.

Because once was never enough.

∞∞∞

Never having traveled with anyone before, whether it be by plane or car, Vas wasn’t sure what to expect from his road trip with Anya. He just knew he would enjoy every minute of it.

He hadn’t been wrong.

Though it did surprise him there were some insights about her he’d still yet to learn. During their four-hour drive, he discovered she had eclectic taste in music, flipping the radio dial like a DJ spinning records, until she landed on a song she liked, singing along like a rock star. Sadly, his girl could not hold a tune but that didn’t diminish his joy of watching her slap out the beat on the dashboard while dancing in her seat.

And apparently he didn’t know the proper traveling protocol which Anya pointed out about ten minutes into their trip when she made him stop at a convenience store.

“We need road-trip snacks.”

“Road-trip snacks?” he repeated, climbing out of the car.

He opened the glass door and Anya ducked under his arm to enter the mini-mart. “Yeah, like chips, candy, and soda.”

And not just any old chips, candy, and soda as Vas soon discovered. It had to be Wavy Lays and plain M&M’s and both needed to be washed down with Sprite.

“What’s the difference between wavy and rippled?” he asked, standing in the chip aisle and eyeing both bags, not really seeing a difference except for the color of the packaging.

“Other than the size of the ripples, my main complaint is the taste. The rippled version is way too salty.”

Vas made a mental note, sure that information would come in handy in the future.

He saw her debating over a package of Red Vines, putting them back at the last minute. Vas picked the package back up, tossing it on the checkout counter with the rest of their purchases.

They left the store, Vas armed with only a black coffee—one of them hopped up on carbs and sugar was enough—and they hit the road.

Now they were near their destination. Vas took the freeway exit and followed his GPS to Robert Gainer’s residence, pulling to the curb in front of a two-story, gray, stucco house with a well-maintained yard.

“It feels good to stretch my legs,” Anya said as she hopped out of the SUV after Vas opened her door.

A man in his mid-to-late sixties stepped out of the house and met them on the front walk. “You Vas Dast… er…”

“Dastoevsky. Yes, sir.” Vas held out a hand. “And you’re Mr. Gainer?”

“Call me Ben,” he said, taking Vas’s hand and giving it a firm shake. The man still had quite a grip. “And who’s this pretty little lady?”

Vas wrapped an arm around Anya’s shoulders and proudly drew her close to his side. “My girlfriend, Anya.”

Anya smiled at the man. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

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