Page 3 of I Heart Mason Cartwright
“Really?” she squeaks. “Ohmigod, that would be amazing. Thank you so much! You are a lifesaver.” She leans in and gives me a hug, then kisses me on the cheek.
“Yeah, no problem. Happy to.”
The bartender sets down her second drink.
“Cheers!” She raises her glass and I clink mine with hers hoping I didn’t just get myself into trouble somehow.
* * *
I’d toldAshLynn to meet me in the lobby at ten o’clock in the morning. At ten minutes after the hour, I ring her hotel room to let her know I’ve got the car and have checked out of the hotel. She says she’ll be down in five minutes. I take a seat in the lobby to wait.
Twenty minutes later I ring her room again.
No answer.
I walk around the lobby to see if I’ve missed her somehow, but don’t see her. I grab a cup of coffee and sit back down. She finally exits the elevator, as I’m finishing my coffee. Two large suitcases in tow plus a garment bag and a purse. I move to help.
“How long have you been here?” I take one suitcase and the garment bag.
“I don’t know, three days or so,” she says.
“Isn’t this a lot for three days?”
“No. One suitcase is just for shoes and irons.”
That must be why it’s so heavy.
“You know the hotel supplies an iron, right?” I smile.
She scoffs. “Hair irons. Flat iron, curling iron, wave iron, and my round rod.”
“You use all of those for your hair?”
“Not at the same time, obvi. But I never know what mood I’m going to be in or what the weather is going to be like, so I don’t know how I’ll want to style my hair.”
“Which one did you use today?” I ask to be polite.
“The wave iron,” she says. “What do you think?” She poufs her hair on one side and does a little pose.
“Looks great,” I say. “I hate to tell you this, but I got a convertible.”
“But it still has a roof over it, right?”
“No, thetopis down. Hence the convertible part.”
“Well, you’ll have to put it up. It took me over an hour to get my hair like this.”
I open my mouth to rebut and realize this is my penance for being a nice guy. Because no good deed goes unpunished, right?
What’s the word for more of a sucker than just a sucker?
Idiot? Moron? Nincompoop?
We reach the rental car and she leaves the suitcase and garment bag near the trunk for me to load into the car. I would have done it anyway, but it grates a little to have her expect it.
“Where’s the button to put the top up?” she asks from the passenger seat.
“The car has to be on for it to work.”
