Page 54 of Hollow Heart

Felix shrugs.

“You know, I took the Porsche this morning. I could give you a ride, if you want.” His voice is even, solid and unwavering.

It’s not a suggestion. It’s a direct command, framed as a question.

Something about that makes me feel even more agitated.

Who is this man to tellmewhat to do?

But I also know, as I sit here, hot as hell, sweating bullets in my fucking piece of shit truck that I’ve had way longer than should be allowed, that I have no damn choice, not really.

I could call a taxi or an Uber, but I can never get the damn app to work, no matter how many times Bobby’s shown me.

“What about rehearsal?” I say, hoping maybe he’ll falter or that Lou will show up and call me a ride or...

“I mean, technically, Iamthe boss, at least where you’re concerned. It’s my band, so if anyone dictates shit, it’s me.” He shrugs apathetically. “Besides, I’m sure we could all probably use a little break. We’ve all been putting in the hours, not to mention you look a little beat.”

Maybe because I’ve clearly lost my marbles.

“Fine,” I utter as I get out of the car, feeling on edge. I slam the door shut, looking down at Felix who stares up at me like he’s fixing for a fight himself.

“But only because my car is having a damn meltdown at the moment. “

Felix’s lips twist up in the corner, making his eyes sparkle.

“Of course.” He nods for me to follow him across the parking lot to the prettiest, sleekest black Porsche I’ve ever seen.

I’m only partly surprised it isn’t bright pink, since clearly, the man has a thing for the color.

He slides up next to the passenger door, his hands in his pockets, and I hear the clicking of the locks.

Confused, I look around, because he didn’t press anything and he didn’t pull out any keys.

He opens the door for me with a smile.

“It’s linked to an app on my phone,” he says, his tone dripping with saccharine sarcasm.

“Right.” I grunt as I fold myself into the passenger seat, and he shuts the door. I watch as he pulls out his phone, tapping away a text insanely fast before he opens his own door and slips into the driver’s seat.

I feel like King Kong in his sleek, fancy car, but I can’t denyhelooks good in it.

All those long limbs, tattoos, and tight pants...

I bet you could photograph him in this damn car in his everyday clothes, and he’d still sell out copies of Playgirl.

The music that blasts over the speakers makes me feel even more on the spot as the familiar sounds ofLoose Canonring out in the air.

“Oh fuck...” he mutters, immediately switching off. “Sorry about that.” He queues up the digital screen with GPS.

I know cars nowadays have all the bells and whistles, but I’ve never been a fan of having computers in my car.

My truck might be one of the last cars around that doesn’t even have a backup camera.

Bobby’s always trying to get me to “embrace technology”, but as far as I’m concerned, I don’t need a computer to drive.

“Where, uh... where to?” Felix glances from me to the screen, and I realize he’s waiting formeto put the address in.

Shit.

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