Page 80 of A World Apart
“Regan, the little girl from the Exorcist… you know what? Never mind, let’s get you home.” I made to gently shuffle her away from the office, but she stomped ahead of me. I followed her, shrugging.
“Did you get some Tylenol and chocolate along with those Tampons?” I called after her.
Becka threw a glare over her shoulder but kept walking.
We rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence, and when the doors opened, she strode purposefully across the marble floor to the outside door, where an Uber was parked up at the pavement.
To my surprise, Becka walked straight over to it, where she had a brief conversation with the driver through the window.
“Come on,” she called to me.
“Aw Becka, not again, we can’t keep getting Ubers,” I protested.
“Just get in,” she groused and obediently, I slid in beside her.
But it soon became apparent we were not driving home, as the driver completely ignored the signs for Glendale and kept going.
“Hey,” I said in alarm, “we’re going in the wrongdirection.”
“No, we’re fine,” Becka said and turned to the driver, “I gave you the right address, West Hollywood.”
“Hollywood?” I echoed in confusion. “Why the fuck are we going to Hollywood?”
“WestHollywood,” she corrected, distracted as she looked down at her phone.
“Fine,” I gritted my teeth, “why are we going toWestHollywood? I swear, if you’re dragging me to another Dildo Party−”
“Sweet baby Jesus, can you not?!” Becka cried, glancing briefly at the driver, who to his credit, had no reaction whatsoever. “That was one time!”
“One time was enough,” I shuddered, the memories flashing through me. So much lube.
“You’re such a prude,” Becka muttered. “But no. It was meant to be a surprise, but we’re meeting a friend there, they’ve swung back into town and wanted to meet up. It’s no big deal.” She shrugged.
“I feel like you could have just told me that,” I said, slumping back in my seat. “Is that what the bag of snacks is for?”
“Yes!” Becka said with far more enthusiasm than I would have expected.
“Right, okay. Do I know them?”
“No. It’s brand-new people.”
“That you know in West Hollywood?” I was beginning to feel suspicious. Becka was a horrible actress. “Becka,” I began, “it’s not Ben, is it?
“What?” The look of alarm on her face convinced me I’d guessed right.
“It’s okay,” I said as gently as I could. “If you want some backup, I’m here for you, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” she said with such a weird expression. I decided to drop it, she was obviously feeling very conflicted about meeting up with Ben, no wonder she was acting so weird.
We rode the rest of the way in silence. Rush hour in LA meant it took about half an hour to make the relatively short journey. As we pulled up into a more secluded residential street, my mouth fell open. These were nice houses. Not mansions, but nice. Private driveways, privet hedges, security signs in front gardens, kind of nice.
I was about to ask what Ben did for a living, when Becka swung her legs out of the car and grabbed my dino rucksack.
“Hey, can you wait here for a second?” She turned round to the driver.
He shrugged. “That’s what the ride said.” I frowned, but before I could ask, Becka was telling me to hurry up, so I slid out and followed her up the driveway. There was no car parked there.
“Hey, are you sure this is the right place?” I asked, looking around.
