Page 67 of Who's Playing You
She had slowly begun to chew and when her tongue had momentarily slipped out to lick her lips I leaned forward and kissed her lips. When I pulled back I said, “Good girl.”
That’s how the rest of our meal had gone, me feeding Scottie and savoring the intimacy that we’d shared on this day. It was special.
A day I’d never forget.
After we had finished with dinner and cleaned up, which she had insisted on doing, I’d tried to persuade her to stay the night with me. I knew it was a lot though - a lot in a short time period for us… well, more so for her than me.
When I saw the hesitation on her face, I’d told her it was alright and that there was always next time. That seemed to relax her.
I hated seeing her collect her clothes and put them back on. It was awful. But at least I convinced her to wear my T-shirt. I suggested she sleep in it tonight.
More like insisted.
When I walked her to her car, I remembered how much I hated her car. Let’s not mince words but simply call a spade a spade: it was a piece of shit. It was a death trap and it was on its last leg. It was nowhere near safe enough for Scottie and she needed something better suited for her.
“Honey, this car…” I began.
“What’s the matter with my car?” her eyebrows shot up as she looked between me and the car. “My mechanic just went through her. She’s fine… ish.”
“Oh?” I said without judgement. Meanwhile I was judging so hard but I wasn’t going to let her know that.
“Yeah, he went through Bessie and got her an oil change, fixed the brakes and stuff.”
“Well that’s good,” I replied to placate her.
“Yeah. He did warn me that she might not have much life left in her, but he did all that could be done.”
“And you, ah,likethis car?” because I certainly didn’t like this car. It was old and unsafe for the precious cargo it was hauling around. If she got in an accident in this thing… I’d hate to think what would happen.
She looked at me and showed a little defensiveness. “Yes, Nicholas, Ilikethis car. She’s been with me through… well, a lot.”
With that I realized that she wouldn’t willingly let the Honda go and use the car I’d already bought for her. I’d have to force her hand.
I’d bought her a new Cadillac Escalade. I knew she liked the Honda because she could easily haul around all her art stuff like her larger canvases, and that the car kind of acted like a van at times for her. So she needed a larger vehicle with lots of trunk space. But in my viewpoint? She needed something way more luxurious and primarily something that was safe.
The Escalade was parked two cars over from where we stood next to her Honda, and it was fresh from the factory with all the bells and whistles - something I was fully aware she’d never consider for herself and would probably not even want.
But still… it was super safe, had plenty of space, and had every luxury that Scottiedeserved.
I leaned in and kissed her lips in a chaste kiss. “Sounds like you two have a lot of history,” I told her sincerely. Meanwhile my brain was plotting if I had enough sugar in the house and if I had enough time to follow her home so that I could pour said sugar into her gas tank.
I had to meet with my new PT early in the morning and I needed to get myself to bed soon. But this car situation was more important right now. Especially considering it would keep me up all night until I’d get this situation sorted.
Knowing what I was about to do, essentially murder her car, I leaned in and kissed her again and when I pulled back, placing my forehead against hers, I said, “Well, if you ever want to change things up, you’re welcome to use any of my cars.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I think old Bessie and I will do just fine,” she replied before giving me a smile.
“The offer stands. Any time, any car,” I said as I pulled away and leaned over to open her driver’s side door for her. “You’re sure that I can’t convince you to stay?” It was my last ditch effort.
“Nicholas…” she admonished me.
I chuckled. “You can’t blame a guy for trying,” I simply stated. “Drive safe, honey. Text me when you’re home. And tomorrow night? We’re still on, yeah?”
“I will,” she said as she slipped behind the wheel. “And yes, we are. I’ll see you then.”
I just grinned, because she’d agreed to come over late-afternoon before I would get home, and set up for our next session. Once she had seen the view from the patio off my living room, I’d suggested we have our next session (or all of them) here. It was an easy sell, and I knew it.
“Alright, sweetheart. See you then.” And with that I shut her door and backed up while she reversed out of her parking spot and pulled down my driveway. Once she was out of view, I hustled back to the house to see if I had any sugar in my house. This was a dire situation.
