Chapter Six
Luke
“Pardon?” Cassidy rushes forward. “Did you say one vehicle, as in one more after his?”
The man behind her in line echoes her loud question. “One more vehicle?”
A chorus of groans erupts.
The employee—Harriet, says her name tag—squints toward the computer screen, the skin around her eyes wrinkling. “I’m sorry. His was the last one.”
Cassidy’s head tips back. She exhales slowly.
Harriet slides my paperwork across the counter. I take a pen from a cup and get busy.
Cassidy pushes onto tiptoes beside me, leaning on the counter. Her voice is high and tense. It’s princess singing at woodland animals if the animals were in grave danger. “You’re sure there’s not some kind of clunker that no one ever rents because it’s so decrepit hiding in the lot? Maybe under a tarp? Anything will work. I’m not picky.”
Harriet appears to be near retirement age. She casts an anxious glance over Cassidy’s shoulder at the angry mob and grimaces. “I’m so sorry. We’re not usually this busy. Ever. We don’t keep a huge inventory. I wish there was something I could do.”
A man from the line speaks up, as if sanctioned by the crowd to do so. “What kind of place doesn’t keep more than eight cars? Incompetence at its finest. Though I guess I shouldn’t expect any different, given what we’ve been through.”
The man needs a muzzle more than a car. Nothing infuriates me more than grown men giving helpless employees grief.
Cassidy glares over her shoulder and her expression morphs from distressed to determined. “It’s not her fault the plane was grounded. A little kindness goes a long way.” She pivots back to Harriet, oblivious to the looks she’s now getting from harried travelers. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”
Harriet’s voice holds a quiver, and the hard lines around her mouth soften. “I’m okay. Thank you for asking.” She lowers her voice substantially and leans closer. If I wasn’t a foot away, signing my life away to the supplemental insurance powers-that-be, I wouldn’t be able to hear. “If you give me a second, I can check when more vehicles are expected. I don’t want to broadcast it because I’m not sure the best way to manage all these people.”
Cassidy presses her lips together and nods.
The brief determination in Harriet’s eyes peters out after a few seconds of clicking around the database. “Oh…”
“It’s okay,” Cassidy offers. “They’ll send another plane. This will work itself out. Eventually.”
I don’t miss the defeat in her otherwise chipper tone.
And it doesn’t help anyone’s mood that a flat-screen mounted on the wall loudly projects the weather channel. A storm is moving our way, currently covering (and destroying) ground in Oklahoma and Texas, which further dwindles everyone’s chances of getting on a plane out of here today.
“Heading home or somewhere else, honey?” Harriet asks Cassidy as she scrawls NO AVAILABLE UNITS on a piece of paper and tapes it to the back of her computer monitor.
“Ah…home, I guess. Used to be, anyway.”
“I’m sorry your trip is off to a rough start.”
“Thank you. Bet you’ve never seen something like this before, all these people stranded.”
I slide the paperwork back to Harriet quietly, so as not to interrupt their budding friendship. Harriet offers me my key, and I pocket it.
Cassidy lifts her hand my way. It’s the most pitiful wave I’ve ever seen, accompanied by a sad smile. “Safe travels.”
A response dies in my throat at the faraway look on her face as she rescues her phone from its brief pocket captivity.
I replay her earlier words, from the call she took about three inches away from my ear, thus funneling every word directly into my skull.
I’ll be there. I promise.
It was an emphatic promise at that.
After a few teeth-grinding seconds, I offer, “Safe travels to you as well.”
Who was she making a promise to?
What’s the urgency?
Hell if I know. It’s none of my business anyway.
And yet…
I peek over at her, cupping the back of my neck. If it’s possible to second-guess a thought before it even fully crosses your head, I do.
Damn it. I can’t just leave her stranded here.
Harriet, apparently sympathetic to the miserable look on Cassidy’s face, points at the gate. “If it helps, Java Juice across the gate makes a mean cappuccino. You could try one while you wait. Tell them Harriet sent you and they’ll treat you nice.”
Cassidy starts a slow backward walk. “You’re a peach, Harriet. I’ll grab you one, too, for your troubles. What kind of sweetener—”
“Wait,” I blurt.
Cassidy freezes, eyes wide. “Sorry?”
I’m just as surprised as she is by the sound of my own voice. I clear my throat. “You’re heading to L.A., right?”
“Westlake.” She releases the handle of her suitcase and crosses her arms across her sparkly shirt. “Why?”
I’ll be there. I promise.
I know a thing or two about promises and obligations.
I also know a fair amount about not getting in cars with strangers, but all of it seems to escape me. “Listen. I don’t know your story. I’ve got to get to California in a hurry, and it sounds like you do, too. If you want to split the drive, we’ll get there that much faster. I could use another body.”
She tilts her head. “That’s an ominous way to describe a living, breathing person.”
“What would you like me to say? I need another pair of feet to operate the pedals? A set of eyes to watch the road?”
“Can you not describe me like I’m a bunch of moving parts in a meat suit? You’re giving major serial killer vibes.”
I snort. “I’m the one offering my car to a stranger with a flair for the dramatics. If anyone is in danger, it’s me.”
She uncrosses her arms and plunks her fists on her hips. “You don’t know anything about me other than where I’m going. And I don’t know anything about you other than that you wear Ralph Lauren cologne—”
“How the hell—”
“—and have an uncanny knack for irritating me. What makes you think we can take a trip together?”
“It’s not a trip.” I shudder at the connotation. “Not even close. Trips require beaches or ski slopes. This?” I sweep my arm, gesturing at the single conveyor belt baggage claim in this airport, the car rental desk, the trapped passengers awaiting their fate. “It’s a travel shitstorm and we’re stuck in it together. I just happen to have an umbrella.”
Her expression is inscrutable as her gaze pins mine. “You’re going to Los Angeles quickly? Like, your priority is getting there as fast as possible?”
“Might pick up a can of nitrous on the way.”
Cassidy’s gaze rakes me over. She is unabashed in her perusal, taking her sweet time. It feels like standing in one of those X-ray machines at the TSA check-in. You shouldn’t feel anything, and in reality, you don’t. But you do. Your body registers something foreign, maybe intrusive. Possibly lethal in high doses. Strangely warming.
“Why?” she finally asks.
“Why what?”
“Why are you offering? You don’t even like me.”
True. I think. “Because.”
Her eyes narrow, riddled with suspicion.
“Because I accidentally took your stupid parking spot, all right?” I blow out a breath. “Then the shuttle left you in the cold because I didn’t hear you calling for me. And you still helped me on the plane, even though you were angry. You obviously need to get to where you’re going since you panicked about missing your flight and promised someone you’d be there—and before you accuse me of eavesdropping, I can’t help but hear phone calls when they are inserted directly in my brain at close range—and I’ve got a car. I’m heading to L.A. So, we can either continue this spirited discussion, or we can call it even and get on the road.”
A man in a sweat-drenched polo wielding a briefcase steps up beside her. “You offering rides out west, pal? If she’s not interested, I’d be glad to take her place.”
Cassidy’s hand closes around my forearm. “Wait a second. Let’s not be hasty. I never said I wasn’t interested.” She plugs in her smile and aims it at the man. “Excuse us while we negotiate.”
She tugs me out of earshot. I meet her eye, and she meets it right back. White noise crackles in my head as her gaze shifts from hesitant to something I don’t recognize. Those blue glaciers seem to have melted a little, like maybe they don’t want to sink my Titanic.
She taps her cheek. “You’re serious about this?”
I nod toward the door. “What do you say? You in or out?”