“Did you have a good meal?” she said as she pressed something in his hand. “That’s our customer service number. Give us a call and let us know how your meal was.”
The wink she gave him told him all the hell he needed to know and more about what a dial to those digits would get him—and it sure as shit wasn’t going to be a survey.
Not one without kneepads, at any rate.
He put the folded piece of paper back into her palm. “I’ll tell you right now. My wife and I had a wonderful time. So did our . . . er, friend. Thanks.”
As he pivoted away, he put his arm around Mary and drew her in close. Then he did the same to Bitty before thinking about it.
They left all together, squeezing through the double doors.
Outside, the night had gotten even colder, but his belly was more than full of food and he was really happy—and it was amazing how that kind of mood created its own warmth, independent of the weather.
Hell, it could have been sleeting and he would still have looked up to the dark sky and gone, Ahhhhhhhh.
As they were about to step off the curb and head for the car, a minivan pulled up and a mother and a daughter rushed over together to get in. Man, talk about a gene pool. The two of them had identical brown hair, the tween’s in a ponytail, Mom’s cut jaw-length. They were nearly the same height and both dressed in blue jeans and sweatshirts. Faces had the same bone structure, from the round cheeks and flat forehead to a stick-straight nose that he imagined some humans asked for in plastic surgery offices.
They were neither ugly nor beautiful. Not poor, but not rich. They were laughing, though, in exactly the same way. And that made them both spectacular.
Mom opened the door for the daughter and shooed her in. Then she leaned inside and quipped to the kid, “Ha, I so did win the bet! I totally did—and you’re doing the dishes all week long. That was the deal.”
“Mooooooom!”
The mother shut things on the protest and hopped into the front seat next to what had to be her husband or partner. “I told her, don’t bet against me. Not when it comes to Godfather quotes.”
The guy turned around to the daughter. “No way, I’m not touching this with a ten-foot pole. You know she’s memorized the movie, and yes, the correct wording is, ‘No Sicilian can refuse any request on his daughter’s wedding day.’”
The mother shut her door and the pale blue minivan pulled away.
For a moment, Rhage imagined what that trip home was like—and he found himself in a big fat hurry to do the same. Take Bitty home, that was.
And also argue about The Godfather, if that was the way things went. Or what Play-doh tasted like. Or whether it was going to snow early or late in the season.
“We good?” he asked as Bitty hesitated. “Bitty?”
“I’m sorry,” the girl said softly. “What?”
“Come on, let’s get to the car.”
It felt really good to walk his females back to the GTO, and even better to drive them along the streets, obeying the traffic laws. Staying in his lane. Not taking the bait when a pair of douche bags in a Charger pulled up next to him at a stoplight and pumped their engine like the thing was an extension of their cock and balls.
He just motored along.
When his cell phone rang, he let it go to voice mail. Soon enough they’d be at Safe Place and he could—
The thing went off again.
Taking it out, he frowned. “I’ve got to get this.” Accepting the call, he put the cell up to his ear. “Manny?”
The surgeon was in full urgent-mode. “I need you back here right now. Layla’s hemorrhaging. The young are coming—we need veins for her to take. Can you dematerialize?”
“Shit,” he hissed as he hit his blinker and pulled over. “Yeah. I can come in.”
Mary and Bitty both looked at him in alarm as he hung up and wrenched around. “Listen, I’m so sorry. There’s an—” He stopped as he glanced at the girl. “I have to go back home.”
“What’s happening?” Mary asked.
“Layla.” He didn’t want to go into it. Not with what Bitty had just gone through. “They need some help. Can you drive her back? I have to ghost out right now.”
“Absolutely. And I’ll come directly home—”
“Can I go with you guys?” Bitty asked.
There was a moment of ummmm. And then Mary turned around to the rear seat. “I’d better take you back to Safe Place. But someday maybe you can?”
“Are you going to be okay?”
It took Rhage a moment to realize that the girl was talking to him. And as he met eyes that were wide and anxious, a strange jolt went through him.
“Yes. I’ll be fine. I just need to help a friend.”
“Oh. That’s okay, then. When do I see you again?”
“Anytime you like. I’ll always be right around the next turn for you.” He stretched an arm back and brushed her face with his hand. “And we’re going to have to watch The Godfather. Parts one and two. Not three.”
“What’s all that?” she asked as he opened his door and got out.
“Only the best movies ever made. Be good.”
Mary was already out and coming around the front of the car, and they met at the grille between the headlights, embracing each other for a second.
“I love you,” he said as he gave her a quick kiss.
“Me, too. Tell them I’m coming home?”
The wink she gave him told him all the hell he needed to know and more about what a dial to those digits would get him—and it sure as shit wasn’t going to be a survey.
Not one without kneepads, at any rate.
He put the folded piece of paper back into her palm. “I’ll tell you right now. My wife and I had a wonderful time. So did our . . . er, friend. Thanks.”
As he pivoted away, he put his arm around Mary and drew her in close. Then he did the same to Bitty before thinking about it.
They left all together, squeezing through the double doors.
Outside, the night had gotten even colder, but his belly was more than full of food and he was really happy—and it was amazing how that kind of mood created its own warmth, independent of the weather.
Hell, it could have been sleeting and he would still have looked up to the dark sky and gone, Ahhhhhhhh.
As they were about to step off the curb and head for the car, a minivan pulled up and a mother and a daughter rushed over together to get in. Man, talk about a gene pool. The two of them had identical brown hair, the tween’s in a ponytail, Mom’s cut jaw-length. They were nearly the same height and both dressed in blue jeans and sweatshirts. Faces had the same bone structure, from the round cheeks and flat forehead to a stick-straight nose that he imagined some humans asked for in plastic surgery offices.
They were neither ugly nor beautiful. Not poor, but not rich. They were laughing, though, in exactly the same way. And that made them both spectacular.
Mom opened the door for the daughter and shooed her in. Then she leaned inside and quipped to the kid, “Ha, I so did win the bet! I totally did—and you’re doing the dishes all week long. That was the deal.”
“Mooooooom!”
The mother shut things on the protest and hopped into the front seat next to what had to be her husband or partner. “I told her, don’t bet against me. Not when it comes to Godfather quotes.”
The guy turned around to the daughter. “No way, I’m not touching this with a ten-foot pole. You know she’s memorized the movie, and yes, the correct wording is, ‘No Sicilian can refuse any request on his daughter’s wedding day.’”
The mother shut her door and the pale blue minivan pulled away.
For a moment, Rhage imagined what that trip home was like—and he found himself in a big fat hurry to do the same. Take Bitty home, that was.
And also argue about The Godfather, if that was the way things went. Or what Play-doh tasted like. Or whether it was going to snow early or late in the season.
“We good?” he asked as Bitty hesitated. “Bitty?”
“I’m sorry,” the girl said softly. “What?”
“Come on, let’s get to the car.”
It felt really good to walk his females back to the GTO, and even better to drive them along the streets, obeying the traffic laws. Staying in his lane. Not taking the bait when a pair of douche bags in a Charger pulled up next to him at a stoplight and pumped their engine like the thing was an extension of their cock and balls.
He just motored along.
When his cell phone rang, he let it go to voice mail. Soon enough they’d be at Safe Place and he could—
The thing went off again.
Taking it out, he frowned. “I’ve got to get this.” Accepting the call, he put the cell up to his ear. “Manny?”
The surgeon was in full urgent-mode. “I need you back here right now. Layla’s hemorrhaging. The young are coming—we need veins for her to take. Can you dematerialize?”
“Shit,” he hissed as he hit his blinker and pulled over. “Yeah. I can come in.”
Mary and Bitty both looked at him in alarm as he hung up and wrenched around. “Listen, I’m so sorry. There’s an—” He stopped as he glanced at the girl. “I have to go back home.”
“What’s happening?” Mary asked.
“Layla.” He didn’t want to go into it. Not with what Bitty had just gone through. “They need some help. Can you drive her back? I have to ghost out right now.”
“Absolutely. And I’ll come directly home—”
“Can I go with you guys?” Bitty asked.
There was a moment of ummmm. And then Mary turned around to the rear seat. “I’d better take you back to Safe Place. But someday maybe you can?”
“Are you going to be okay?”
It took Rhage a moment to realize that the girl was talking to him. And as he met eyes that were wide and anxious, a strange jolt went through him.
“Yes. I’ll be fine. I just need to help a friend.”
“Oh. That’s okay, then. When do I see you again?”
“Anytime you like. I’ll always be right around the next turn for you.” He stretched an arm back and brushed her face with his hand. “And we’re going to have to watch The Godfather. Parts one and two. Not three.”
“What’s all that?” she asked as he opened his door and got out.
“Only the best movies ever made. Be good.”
Mary was already out and coming around the front of the car, and they met at the grille between the headlights, embracing each other for a second.
“I love you,” he said as he gave her a quick kiss.
“Me, too. Tell them I’m coming home?”
