Page 64 of Idle

I understand the three words she said by themselves, but not as a phrase. “A what?”

“Jimmy’s in charge of all our family’s vehicles. If we need a ride somewhere, we call him and he sends a car to us.”

Okay. When she said she had money, she wasn’t kidding. I’ve long known that Xander and Theo are rich, but never considered the implications. “Most of us call an Uber.”

“Can’t do that now either. No internet, remember?”

“Taxi? Subway?” I pause. “We can always walk.”

She scratches the back of her head. “You can hail us a taxi.”

I motion for our check, then tease my partner. “Is My Lady too good to ride the subway?”

She crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m not royalty.”

I chuckle. “A subway ride will do you good.” I pay the bill and escort the brooding woman next to me down the stairs into the subway station. The typical unpleasant odors assault our senses.

She fans her face. “It smells horrible down here.”

I buy us one MetroCard with two rides on it. We can share it to take us to the club, as I’m sure we’ll take a taxi back to the apartment. I inhale deeply. “Nothing like the scent of dank garbage on a late summer’s evening to get the senses rolling.”

She hits me and I laugh. Grabbing her hand, I lead her toward the middle of the train, which comes within five minutes. Enough for her to get an eyeful of the buskers and others milling around.

We walk into the rather full car, where one seat’s available in between two large men. She shakes her head and stands in place. Unlike her, I grab the pole before we move but the sudden lurch throws her off balance. Because I was watching her, I prevent a potentially embarrassing fall into the two men and guide her hand onto the pole.

Not a single word was spoken between us. Her eyes, though, convey thanks. Among other things.

We arrive at our destination seven stops later and she’s the first person off the train. Following the sway of her hips, she leads us toward the exit. I don’t bother to tell her that the other exit would take us closer to our destination, enjoying experiencing the subway with her for the first time.

When we reach street-level again, she whirls on me. “Do you seriously travel like that through New York City?”

“I do.”

“It’s dirty.”

“It’s fast. And cheap. Two good things, from my point of view.” Although usually without the gorgeous decoration she provides.

Paige tucks her hair behind her ear, the dark brown locks glinting in the moonlight. “Perhaps,” she allows. “Let’s get to Club Cielo and dance off the subway.” Looking at the street sign, she points, “This way.”

We arrive ten minutes later, and Paige gives the bouncer a hug. While she’s never taken the subway before today, she’s connected with all the right people. We’re inside the crowded club, drinks in hand, before I would’ve made it to the middle of the line cued outside.

A new song by The Light Rail echoes throughout the club. “I love TLR! C’mon, let’s dance.”

I hold up my beer. While I enjoy dancing, I much prefer savoring my Guinness in peace. She shrugs and chugs her entire Mexican mule, then flips over her copper mug in triumph. She leans forward and screams, “Your turn!”

I shake my head. It’s heresy to do what she asks.

Hands planted on her hips, she stares into my eyes. “I rode the subway. You can chug.” She adds, “Or leave it.”

Not an option. Offering a prayer I’m not struck by lightning, I bring my glass to my mouth and let the dark stout slide down. Finished, I hold the glass in front of me, mourning the swift loss of the Irish ale.

Paige claps, then grabs my hand and drags me onto the dance floor where she proceeds to shake her ass in all sorts of illicit ways. I have rhythm but can’t compare with her moves. She doesn’t notice. When the music changes to a Hunte anthem, we both jump high in the air pumping our fists.

And laughing.

So much laughter.

Then there’s the kissing.

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