Page 6 of Slay Ride

We make our way out of the airport, and Shorty begins to lose his mind. With the way he’s flailing around in his carrier, I must look like Clark Griswold when he’s holding the box containing Aunt Bethany’s unfortunate cat. He screams and claws the sides, and fur flies from the air holes.

“Is he always so pissed off?” Kindra asks as we slide into the limo Jim ordered for us.

I place the carrier on the seat, and the yowling kicks off again. “He probably needs to use the bathroom. He’s been in that thing for hours. You’d be pissed off if we crammed you into a tiny box.”

Shorty goes quiet, and moments later, a foul stench fills the limo.

Kindra gags and rolls down her window, but she quickly rolls it up again as an icy blast enters the car. “I changed my mind. I’ll take the yowling over that smell any day.”

I peer into the carrier, and Shorty hisses at me. Great. Now he’s pissed off and his back feet have little poo shoes. Shit smears paint the floor with each angry step he takes.

“I’m so sorry, Shorty,” I whisper into the air holes.

“You’re apologizing to thecat? How about the humans that have to smell that for the next hour?” Kindra pinches her nose and breathes through her mouth.

I place the carrier between us on the seat. “We just have to smell it. Poor Shorty has to wear it like a shameful badge, and now I’ll have to bathe him. He hates water.”

Kindra already stocked my room with the cat supplies I requested, but I didn’t put cat-safe shampoo on the list. This is Shorty’s first trip, and I didn’t realize he’d be so upset. I probablyshould have put him in a cargo carrier with a litter box, but I was too worried the airline would lose him.

This isn’t the best start to the winter retreat, but it can only go up from here.

I hope.

At least Bennett won’t be there, which already makes this trip better than the one we took this summer. We’ll all breathe a little easier without his incessant fuckboy energy hanging over us like a dark cloud. Well, we’ll breathe a little easier once we’re out of this car.

In his place, we have Maverick, and that’s a major upgrade. He’s tall, tan, and his green eyes could convince a woman to strip in two seconds flat.

As much as I hate to admit it, Bennett is attractive too. His dark hair, bright blue eyes, and tattoos are incredibly easy on the eyes, but his personality is more akin to a honey badger—angry, volatile, and unforgiving. That’s where Maverick really shines. He’s so sweet.

“Stop daydreaming about Maverick,” Kindra says beside me, though she sounds like she’s talking through a cold because she’s still pinching her nose.

“What makes you think I’m daydreaming about him?”

Kindra lets out an exaggerated, feminine sigh. “You do that shit...that pathetic little sigh. That’s how I know.”

Everyone seems to think I’m tossing my line into empty waters, but Maverick hasn’t said he isn’t interested. I mean, he hasn’t said heisinterested, but that’s beside the point. By the end of the retreat, I’ll gather the courage to make my move and get my answer.

“How’d he get his name, anyway?” I ask. “I can’t find anything online about why he’s called the Midnight Masochist.”

“Jesus, are you stalking him?”

Maybe.

“No. I was just curious,” I say.

Kindra laughs and looks out the window. “He was originally the New England Nightstalker, but he hated getting lumped with Ramirez, so he wrote to the papers—my paper, to be exact—and requested the name change upon threat of a spree. Understanding how personal a name can be, I changed it to what he requested, and it stuck.”

“I can’t picture him as an actual masochist, though. Can you?”

Kindra gags. “God no. I don’t want to yuck someone’s yum, but the thought of being the dominant one in the bedroom makes my skin crawl, and if Maverick is a masochist, that means he’d be the sub.”

I don’t know if I could pull it off myself, but I’m willing to try.

The road gets rougher as we bump along. Snow drapes everything in winter’s finest, and even the towering trees are dressed for the season. I pull out my phone to check the weather app, but my cell signal is abysmal already, and we aren’t even on the back roads yet.

The lack of connection can be a bit annoying at times, but I enjoy the unplugged experience Jim’s locales provide. Sometimes it’s nice to disconnect from the world and just experience things.

“I hope we bought enough booze,” Kindra says as she stares out the window. “On the island, Jim could have the pilot fly into town for supplies if we needed them, but out here, we’re on our own. We have someone to relay important messages each day, but we’re too far from fucking Walmart if we need anything in a timely manner.”

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