Page 3 of Fast and Dirty

Dammit, not now, Vaggie-Sue.We’ve just fled our wedding after catching our groom cheating. There needs to be some window of reflection or respect for what we’ve been through or some shit. I don’t know, I just feel a little slutty getting all fired up over the first guy I encounter after the whole debacle.

But Iwantto be slutty, my vagina protests, and I imagine her growing a little arm and pointing at the manly display of hard, dirty labor I’m witnessing.I want to be slutty withhim!

I swear to God, when we get back to his shop I will somehow concoct a bag of ice and shove it up this ballgown if you don’t settle down!

Silence. Cool.

And just in time, as it looks like Mr. Criminally-Hot Mechanic is ready to haul this ridiculous getaway car to his place of business.

“Okay, we’re good to go,” he verifies, striding up to me as he slides his aviators back on his face.

Probably for the best.

My cellphone trills yet again from my dainty little clutch. As I follow Sex-on-a-Stick back to his tow truck, I pull the phone out, hoping to tell Preston to get fucked in the ass with a polo mallet.

But the heavens are shining upon me for the first time today when I see a different name flashing across the screen.

Toby.

I excitedly swipe at the screen and drop my head back in relief at connecting with my best friend in the world.

“Toby!” I cry out. “Thank God!”

2

WEST

Okay… crammed in the cab of my tow truck with this beautiful runaway bride and her perfect, white, poofy princess dress might as well be hell on earth. And that’s without the things she’s jabbering about into her phone.

“Seriously!” She shouts, waving her hand around before dropping her head back on the headrest. “All missionary, all the time! No talking allowed. And it was usuallyscheduled! But here he is, jackhammering into Autumn’s bajingo while he talks dirty to her! He would never do that with me, no matter how much I asked for it! No matter how much I begged for it!”

Nope. No one’s balls are in immediate danger of exploding here.

I try my hardest to focus on the damn road, willing the miles to go by faster as I try to tune out the things she’s saying.

I grip the wheel hard and feel my blood run hot at her unwitting revelation.

I can’t believe she caught her fiancé cheating on her on her wedding day. I’m amazed at what some men will do even when they have someone impossibly gorgeous on her arm. And she is. Even if she weren’t in a ballgown which is my kryptonite -don’t ask- I’d still find her breathtaking. And while I’ve only just met her, she seems nice and polite on top of it all. Well, if you don’t count the crass word vomit happening beside me.

“There was even that time I offered to bend over the hood of his car!”

Help.

“I know! He’s so damn in love with that car I thought it was a sure thing! But noooo, that’s not how you properly bed your future wife! Hell, he was always bragging about that fucking Mustang, buying presents and waxing the shit out of it, maybe he had a complex about having sex with an actual human on it!” She laughs, hastily and I’m glad to hear it was just a Mustang she was willing to spread her svelte legs on. If it had been a vintage Trans Am like I have, I probably would have to make funeral arrangements for my poor dick. She chuckles a little longer before adding, “I know, right? The major surprise was finding him with Autumn instead of catching him with his dick in that car’s tailpipe.”

Ugh. Four more miles.

Reaching into the front pocket of my shirt, I produce a toothpick and place one end of it in my mouth to distract me.

“But it’s more than just the cheating.” She pouts into the phone. “It was the whole life. The arrangement, all of it. My mom and Portia were knocking them back in the bridal suite and just letting it all spew about how miserable they are and were practically celebrating that I’d soon be joining them in the world of codependence, reproduction, and monotonous sex. It made the impending reality come crashing down on me, and I was starting to spiral, and I needed to get out of there, and that’s when I found the ass clown with his pants down!”

And there’s the town’s welcome sign. I’ve never been happier to see the trademark howling coyote.

“Almost there,” I quietly announce.

“Ooh! Gotta go,” she tells whoever’s on the other end of the line. “I’ll touch base later, but you did not talk to me, and you donot know where I am! ‘Kay love you too,” she signs off and looks around the little shops with hanging flower baskets and the afternoon sun shining down on the cracked pavement before her gaze swings my way, and I think I see her cheeks pink up a little. “Sorry about that. I’m one of those nervous talkers that can’t shut up when they’re stressed.”

“Not a problem.” Other than the one in my pants. First, she has to be in a ball gown, and then she has to talk about getting freaky on the hood of a car. Clearly the universe sent her here as some kind of demonic siren to torture me with temptation of the worst kind. You know, like prison wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry you’re having a shitty day,” I add, figuring professional etiquette such as clean language has gone out the window.

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