Page 29 of Two Chances With You

“And where did you wind up?”

I intentionally let a pause stretch out. “Far, far away.” Even if it isn’t true, it amuses me to say it to her.

“Actually, I thought it over, and I think you might have been right,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going totake advantage.”

“You’re just trying to worry me, aren’t you? But it’s not going to work, I’m sorry to tell you. I’m a third dan. Do you know what a third dan even is? Well, I’m happy to tell you.”

She speaks in short bursts, and I listen to her, amused.

“It means that before you even had a chance to lay a hand on me, I’d already have destroyed you, get it? Third dan, in karate. And I’ve done kickboxing too. Just try laying a hand on me, and you’d be finished. Finished.”

“Well, that’s good. It means I’m safe.”

Before I can even finish the sentence, the steering wheel whips out of my hand. The Micra swerves terrifyingly. I instantly countersteer and take my foot off the gas.

Ginevra lurches over against me. I guide the car gently to the right while she straightens up. The whole thing scared her. She punches me hard in the shoulder, in the same place as before. “You idiot, you scared me! You cretin!”

I laugh. “Ouch. Stop it. Listen, I had nothing to do with that. I think that was a blowout.”

“What are you talking about? You did it on purpose!”

“I’m telling you I didn’t.” I get out of the car and bend over in front of the hood to get a look at the tires. “There, you see?”

She gets out, too, and sees the tattered tire. “So now what?”

“So now I just hope you have a spare tire.”

“Of course I do.”

“Excellent!”

We stand there for a while looking at each other.

“Well?” she asks.

“Well what? Go get it, why don’t you?”

“Excuse me, but you were driving. So it’s all your fault.”

“Maybe so but the car belongs to you. So you change the tire.”

Ginevra heaves a weary sigh and heads for the hood.

“It’s in the trunk, in the back of the car!”

“I was just checking to make sure nothing was broken.” She’s lying.

“Sure, sure. Of course you were.”

She opens the trunk and lifts the cardboard panel that covers the spare tire. “How do I get it out?”

“You see that big nut on the top? You unscrew that and then you pull the wheel toward you.”

She follows my instructions and frees the wheel. She tries to pull it out, but when she gets it halfway out, the tire falls back in, bouncing as it does. She lacks the necessary strength. “Excuse me, but why won’t you help me?” she asks.

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