Page 44 of Fast and Dirty

“What? No!” I wave a hand and scoff. “But um…,” I lean my elbows on my knees and lean forward and steeple my fingers as if in very analytical thought. “Perhaps you could elaborate on why you were in jail?” I will just sit here calm and collected and wait for you tonottell me you’re in the mafia or some kind ofunderground gang that pillages or has a collection of skin suits hidden somewhere down in that garage of yours. Oooh, what if he’s a vigilante that fights that only goes after evildoers and one time just happened to unfortunately get busted?

“Street racing and grand theft auto,” he rattles out, his jaw set and his eyes staring hard at the wall in front of him.

“Cars…” I mumble out. “Makes sense, I guess…”

“Yeah.”

I take a moment to picture a younger West; one with some kind of troubled youth of stealing cars. And then I think of the West I’ve come to know now. The one who gave me a place to stay the night when I got stranded in this town. Who let me borrow (steal) his shirt and watched out for me while I drowned my sorrows. The guy who hasn’t so much as blinked at me not being able to pay him for the car he towed to his shop but is still trying to help me the way he helps other people in this town. He goes to help a town resident in the middle of the night for BushyTail’s sake! Sure, he’s hard on some of his employees but I can only guess he’s got something to teach them.

I can’t think of any reason I should leave right now. I like this person sitting on the bed with me. I mean obviously, but I don’t see why I should let his past change my mind about him.

“You didn’t hurt anyone?” I ask for clarification.

“No.”

I believe him. I’ve only seen him do good for people in this town. I mean, other than Ryan - he’s definitely getting West’s wrath, but if that’s as bad as it gets—teaching some asinine misfit some humility—then I still can’t see myself throwing my clothes on in a panic. I in no way want to tear out of this apartment at top speed, never to be heard from again.

I gather my share of the sheet around me and crawl closer to him. “Were you trying to hurt anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even a helpless squirrel or raccoon?”

This time he looks over at me, looking adorably confused. “No…”

“I’m serious West, did some defenseless woodland creature get caught under your tires while you were joyriding in some poor shmuck’s vehicle that you liberated?”

“No!” He insists, looking at me with serious what the fuck in his eyes.

“Okay,” I let out a breath of finality.

“Okay?” He tilts his head. “For real? Like, you’re not going to freak out, dump me and blow town?”

I give him a thoughtful shake of my head. “Do you still do bad shit?”

“No.”

“You’re telling the truth, you’re not on the lam, running from Johnny Law?”

This time, I see a smile play at the corner of his mouth. “No.”

“Is that garage below us a chop shop?” I point towards the floor.

“Kira, no. I promise. It was just shit I did in my idiot youth, I’ve grown, I’ve learned, I’ve turned it around, and no innocent animals or people were harmed in my past illegal activities.”

“Cool.” I scoot off the bed.

“What are you doing?” He looks worried.Aww.“Are you leaving?”

“No, but I want coffee.” I wander over to his small kitchenette area and flip on the light over the stove. “And you have to make it, but hopefully by this afternoon I’ll know how to myself.”

My bad boy and I are making coffee, half dressed in the wee hours.

The thought gives me some kind of sick thrill and now I’m fantasizing about sending my family a postcard of me cuddling his mugshot, - ooh!

“Can I see your mugshot?” I ask a little too eagerly.

I haveissues.

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