Page 116 of Wicked Dix

No, I don’t know Alex, but I do know that he’ll never love her the way I do. She belongs with me, and I’m going to doeverything in my power to make her see that. She loved me once. I know she can love me again.

Unable to wait a second longer, I leap forward and steal Hunter’s half-eaten waffle off his plate. “Hey!”

Before he has time to protest further, I fold the rubbery, syrupy dough in half and stuff the entire thing into my mouth. I almost get lockjaw chewing furiously and gag a couple of times, but it’s down my throat fifteen seconds later. I then gulp down his orange juice in one mouthful, thumping my chest to ensure it all goes down.

After I’m done, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “There, now your breakfast is finished. Let’s move.”

Hunter stands up dramatically. “I could have taken it to go.”Nowhe tells me.

Once we’re checked out, I sprint toward my car with Hunter lagging behind. “We’re kind of in a hurry,” I state, throwing my bag into the back seat.

“Well, I’m kind of hungry, thanks to you, so I’m reserving my energy,” he barks as he tosses his bag next to mine.

I jump into the driver’s seat, reaching into my suit pocket for the keys. The moment I place the key into the ignition and turn it, I know someone has a voodoo doll of me and my car somewhere.

“Why isn’t the car starting?” Hunter asks, drawing attention to the obvious as he buckles up.

“I have no clue.” As I turn the key again, the engine simply clicks over but doesn’t start. “No. No. No. Don’t do this! Not now!” I bellow, thumping both palms against the steering wheel.

“I don’t think that’s going to help. You probably blew up the engine on the way here.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining. If I remember correctly, I had to wind up the window before your slobber coated my car,” I say, referring to Hunter’s impersonation of what a bulldog wouldlook like driving down the highway at a hundred miles an hour with his tongue wagging out happily.

He shrugs, not denying my claims. “Pop the hood.”

“What for?” I question, watching him as he unbuckles his belt.

“Could be a dead battery.” He opens the door, appearing mighty proud of himself for solving our apparent problem.

But I roll my eyes. “The battery is in the trunk.”

He ducks his head inside. “Oh. Good to know.”

Great, between dumb and dumber, we’re screwed. I’m not going to pretend I know anything about cars because I don’t.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my cell. “I’ll order an Uber.”

“An Uber? Why don’t you call Triple A?”

“Because they’ll take too long,” I reply, my patience about to snap. As I look at my screen, my dwindling patience goes up in flames. “Motherfucker! Have you got service?” I wave my phone from left to right, hoping to get a damn signal.

Hunter pulls out his cell, but when he too moves it above his head, looking at the screen in confusion, I know the answer is no. “How is that even possible? We live in America, for fuck’s sake. There are no excuses for technology to fail us!”

I dance around the parking lot, flapping my arms above my head, hoping I get something, anything, but I don’t. “Fuck this. I’ll ask to use the phone in reception.”

Angrily shoving my phone into my pocket, I storm toward the hotel, ignoring Hunter as he smugly says, “If we had just stayed at Westhampton Beach, none of this would be happening as we’d already be there by now.”

I don’t bother answering as my answer will be the same as it was last night—we can’t check into a five-star resort in the middle of the night/morning without a reservation. I know this for a fact since I tried to make a reservation at eleven thirty.

As I shoulder open the heavy door, my gaze lands on the young, pimply teen behind the counter.

“Can I use your phone?”

He looks up from reading his comic book, popping his gum, uninterested. “You’ll have to wait until my manager comes back. She just went to the market.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “How long will that be?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe an hour.”

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