Page 38 of Not Another Yesterday
Miranda laughs. “I bet that’s convenient.”
“Definitely is.”
Out of my periphery, I notice Miranda running her hand over the conditioned leather seat as she looks around the interior of my ’69 Mustang. “You know, I really, really like this car of yours. I bet it’s a real panty-dropper. How many girls were you able to hook up with because of the car you drive?”
I chuckle. “What do you think I did, take a survey after I finished? ‘Oh, hi, now that I’ve climaxed, please tell me exactly what it was that convinced you to let me fuck you.’”
Miranda giggles. “You ever have sex in this car?”
I shake my head at her. She really has no respect for my privacy. She never has, though.
“Come on, Rony, you know how nosy I am.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Glad we have that understanding. So? Sex in this car? I can’t imagine a reason why you wouldn’t. It’s so sexy in here,” she purrs, her right hand gliding along the black dash.
I still don’t answer but can’t hide the grin tugging at my lips.
“I knew it,” Miranda says victoriously. “With your feline? Of course with your feline. She sends you pictures like that, she’s definitely had you in this car.”
I laugh at her ability to carry an entire conversation without me even saying a word.
“I’d love to meet her some time, Rony.” She turns her attention to me. “Bring her to Montana with you one day. Or maybe I should come visit you in New York.”
“One thing at a time, Randi. Let’s get you set up first, okay?”
“Whatever you say,” she says, then sighs. “Thank you again for being here. It’s been a rough couple of days.”
“Don’t even mention it,” I say, merging lanes.
“You know what I could really go for right now?” she asks. I briefly look at her, bracing myself for another random subject change. “Some weed.” She sighs. “I’d really just love a couple hits to calm my nerves. You wouldn’t happen to have any on you, by any chance?”
I nod toward the passenger side. “Oh yeah, right there in my glove compartment.”
Her blue eyes widen as her brows move toward her hairline. “Seriously?”
I snort a laugh. “Fuck no. Of course I don’t have any weed on me, Randi.”
“Don’t get my damn hopes up like that, Rony,” she says, making me laugh even more. “Jordan took my last bit, too.”
“You still smoke?”
“Not as much as I used to, but occasionally. It helps me sleep. You?”
I shake my head. “Not since before I met Cat. But, if you’re desperate”—I chuckle quietly—“I still have a bag in my room in Montana. Not sure if it’s still any good since it’s like three years old, but it’s taped to the underside of the second dresser drawer in my room.”
“Are you lying to me again?”
I laugh. “No, I’m serious. Have at it. Just don’t let my grandmother catch you. And if she does, don’t tell her where you got it from.”
“I’d never rat on you.” She giggles and draws a cross over her heart. “So did meeting your girlfriend change your ways then, lover boy?”
“Not really. I just haven’t smoked much after moving back to New York; a handful of times with my best friend and Steve, but I don’t know, I just stopped, I guess. No particular reason.”
“That’s good,” Miranda says. “It’s just a crutch anyways. I should really stop, too. After I dig through your bedroom in Montana,” she says with a mischievous laugh.
***
