Nights in the Fast Lane: A Contemporary Romantic Comedy

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Nights in the Fast Lane: A Contemporary Romantic Comedy Page 3

by Grace Risata


  “Women are not known for their good driving skills. Could you please keep your eyes on the road? Or better yet, how about you let me drive? I don’t really want to die anytime soon,” he admitted.

  “So not only do you want me to let a stranger stay in my house, I should let him drive my car too? Why don’t you just dump me by the side of the road and steal my purse while you’re at it?” I didn’t always make good choices, but I wasn’t completely brainless.

  “Fine. Then just take a deep breath and calm down. Put your hands on the steering wheel at ten and two. Keep your eyes on the road. Drive slowly and cautiously. Don’t get too close to the guy ahead of you. If you start to skid, turn into it so you don’t slide off the road,” Dane said in a soothing voice. I have to admit, it did calm me down. His voice was very deep and throaty. Very manly. Everything about him was appealing to me on a deeper level. I was very attracted to the hot homeless murderer sitting a foot away from me. Yes, I realize how bad that sounds. I can’t help it. This was turning into one of the weirdest days of my life. Maybe I really fell on an icy patch on the sidewalk, hit my head, and this was all an unusually elaborate dream my brain was having while I tried to fight my way out of a coma? Could be.

  I took my hand off the steering wheel and pinched myself in the nose. Oww. That hurt. Not a dream.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I felt a sneeze coming and pinched my nose to stop it?” I lamely offered.

  “So was it your fault or not?” he asked.

  “The sneeze?”

  “No, the car accident. Did you get hurt? Was there any brain damage? Are you still on meds?” He looked at me skeptically.

  “NO! I am NOT brain damaged. It was definitely NOT my fault. I was driving home from work and I saw a flash of a car from the corner of my eye. I was going forty miles an hour and some old lady completely blew a stop sign and t-boned me. There were witnesses that told the cops it was her fault for blowing a stop sign. My airbag went off and I hurt my wrist. I was totally shaken up too. Now I panic when people don’t come to a full stop at a stop sign. The worst part was that my silver beauty was totaled. I had an awesome car and she was beyond repair. Now I’m driving this stupid thing. I don’t even like it, but it was all I could afford from the insurance payout. It still bothers me to this day. The lady who hit me was ninety years old and she was on all kinds of medicine. She thought she was in another town and she had no idea what happened. To add insult to injury, this stupid small town only sent one ambulance to the scene, so we had to ride to the hospital TOGETHER. The whole time she kept yelling, ‘Someone hit me! They hit me! Arrest them!’ I had to hold my tongue and not go off on her. I mean she was ninety and on medicine. It’s not like I could have hauled off and clocked her. I wanted to. I really wanted to.” I gritted my teeth, remembering that day and how irate I was. It was just another example of life throwing a curve ball and hitting me in the face. It happened a lot.

  I dared a glance at the man sitting next to me, and was shocked to find amusement written all over his face.

  “What’s so damn funny?” I asked.

  “You. You’re a real piece of work. Wanting to beat up sickly old ladies and leave nice guys out in the cold to freeze. Didn’t your parents ever teach you any sympathy for those less fortunate?” He had the nerve to laugh at me.

  “No, I guess they didn’t teach me that lesson. Maybe they would have, had they not died when I was sixteen. I guess that lesson came at age seventeen and I must have missed out. That’s a damn shame.” Now I was really livid. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt my face turn red.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry. I had no way of knowing that,” Dane said in a very sincere tone of voice. I could tell that he meant his apology, but I really didn’t care. I got extremely defensive when anyone said anything about my parents. Or lack thereof.

  “Izzy? I just stuck my foot in my mouth bigtime and I regret it. What can I do to fix it?” Dane asked.

  I ignored him and kept my eyes on the road. We’d been driving for five minutes and had barely gotten a quarter of the way home. This weather was hideous.

  “Izzy. Is that short for something? Isabella? Isabelle? Elizabeth?” Dane continued to speak even though I wasn’t giving him any answers. I guess I should participate a little bit. He WAS trying after all.

  “No,” I replied, “My name is just Izzy. It is short for something, but I hate it. I was named after someone and I ….it’s complicated.”

  “I’ll just quit talking and let you drive.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that. Why don’t you tell me something about you?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “All I know is your name. So pretty much anything you tell me will be something new.”

  “I’m a Virgo, I like walks in the moonlight, a nice merlot, and the feeling of sand under my toes.”

  I burst out laughing and took my hand off the steering wheel just as we hit another icy patch of road. The car skidded and Dane frantically tried to adjust it, but it was too late. We did a one hundred and eighty degree turn and ended up on the side of the road facing oncoming traffic. I may or may not have screamed. Ok, I did. Loudly.

  “Into the backseat, NOW,” Dane ordered. He was already unbuckling both our seatbelts and shooing me to climb in back. I did as I was told. After that little maneuver, there was no way I was driving again. My blood pressure couldn’t take it anymore.

  He crawled over and got behind the wheel. He made a quick adjustment to the seat and the rearview mirror. “Get back up here in the passenger seat and buckle yourself in,” he commanded.

  I went back up front and buckled in. All this climbing around was no easy task in a skirt and heels. I tried to be as lady-like as possible, but I’m not sure I pulled it off. Dane wasn’t even trying to catch a glimpse up my skirt. He was too busy devoting all his attention to the car. Dane took his time to listen to the engine as he revved it and then let the rpm’s go down. He cocked his head and repeated this process once again.

  “What are you doing?” I asked in confusion.

  “I’m listening for anything that doesn’t sound right. Have you ever had the spark plugs changed? There’s a bit of an engine knock but I don’t think the timing sounds off.”

  “No, I’ve only had the car for a few years and just did oil changes. I haven’t heard any noises. Sometimes it hesitates when you step on the gas, but that’s all I’ve noticed,” I said.

  Dane patted the dashboard and explained, “You have to take care of the car, Izzy. If you take care of her, then she’ll take care of you. Listen to the engine. Know your ride inside and out. I love cars. I know my car like I know the back of my hand. There isn’t one part on her that I haven’t personally inspected and made sure was in proper working order. I take care of her every need and she purrs like the day she rolled off the assembly line.” That sounded SO incredibly hot. I’d like him to personally inspect all my parts and make sure they were in proper working order. Maybe burn some of the carbon out of my engine. I bet he could make me purr. I looked over at his hands. They looked rough and well worn. He wasn’t some prissy, pretty-boy who hadn’t worked a day in his life. That was a major turn-on.

  Dane waited until there was no oncoming traffic and pulled back into the road, this time facing the right direction. I tried to catch my breath and be thankful that I hadn’t killed us both. I let out a laugh about the irony of the situation before I could stop myself. Dane shot me a quizzical look and I had no choice but to explain my thought process.

  “Here I am worried that I’m letting a crazy psycho stalker into my car and I’m about to get murdered….yet the odds are far greater that I’ll get us both killed with my stellar driving skills. Oh the irony of it all!”

  “You’re not right, are you?” he inquired. “You got a screw loose? You’re not all there?”

  “I’m totally all there. I just appreciate this odd sit
uation. I’m very smart. Quiz me.”

  “Quiz you? On what, exactly? Am I just supposed to start barking out math questions and ask you the state capitals?”

  I could see that Dane was starting to freak out a little and wonder just who exactly he was stuck with. Leave it to me to scare a potentially insane people-butcher. I really am talented. Wait until the next time I saw Monica and Winter, they would laugh their asses off at this story. I was an endless form of entertainment for my best friends.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really not crazy, I promise. I just want to get home, put on warm clothes, eat dinner, and relax,” I explained.

  “Yeah, I have a question about that,” Dane asked, “just who exactly do you live with? There’s not going to be any jealous husband or boyfriend that tries to beat the shit out of me when we get to your house, is there? I’m really not looking for any trouble.”

  I sighed and looked out the window. No, there would not be anyone who cared in the least if I brought a guy home. My luck in the romance department was non-existent. I was completely single. There were cobwebs growing in my lady parts. My hinges hadn’t been oiled in far too long. I could make a lot more comparisons, but I think you get my point.

  “No. You don’t have to worry. No one is going to be there to care if I bring you home. I’m completely single.” That sounded just a tad desperate. I wondered if Dane had a lady. You can’t be as built as he was, and not have a woman. Guys like him were never single. He probably had a black book of phone numbers that was inches thick. Speaking of inches thick….I bet he was big in THAT department too. I dared take a closer look at him. He was beautiful. Chiseled cheekbones, soft pink lips, strong nose, piercing eyes.

  Unfortunately he noticed me gazing adoringly at him, and called me out on it.

  “Why are you staring at me?” Dane asked.

  “I’m just noticing that you need a haircut. You’re getting kind of shaggy up top.” This was true. He looked like he could use a trim. His dark hair hung straight down and almost covered his eyes.

  He took his hand and brushed it out of his face. “Well there aren’t that many barbers on skid row willing to give free haircuts, your highness. My apologies if my unkempt appearance is upsetting you.” That’s just great. Now he thinks I’m criticizing his appearance? If he could read my thoughts at all, he’d know it was just the opposite.

  “No, your appearance is fine. I think you have pretty eyes.” Wait, what? Did I just say that out loud? Did I just tell a guy that he was pretty? NO!

  “Gee, thanks. I always wanted to be pretty. My friends always told me that I was mildly attractive, but I was really aiming for pretty. I can die happy now,” Dane gushed, dripping with sarcasm.

  “That is SO rude! Why can’t you take a compliment? I take it back. You’re not pretty. You’re not even CUTE!” I might have yelled that last sentence. What was this guy’s problem?

  “Well you’re not my type either, your highness, so don’t even worry about me being a serial killing rapist and going after you,” Dane snapped back at me.

  Wait a minute, was I supposed to be relieved or offended by that comment? I probably should have been relieved that he had no intentions of forcing himself on me, however I was stuck on the fact that I was not his type. Why not? What was wrong with me?

  “I’m sorry,” Dane spoke softly, “I’ve never been this bad off before and it’s making me irritable. I haven’t had a decent meal in a while and I’m not myself. Can you just give me directions on how to get to your house and we can stop going at each other like two cats shoved into a garbage bag?”

  I sighed. “I appreciate your cat metaphor, so I’ll agree and behave myself a bit better. You’re going to get off at the next exit and then my house is only a few miles away.”

  We rode the rest of the way in silence. It took much longer than usual to get to my house. The town where I live, Oak Valley, is not very heavily populated but it’s large in size. I have to get on the highway and take it around the whole town to get to the industrial park where the Kharmma factory is located. My house is on the other end of town in a quiet little residential area. I have the last house on the right. I love it because there’s a farm field behind it and I take my dog there to run around when she gets stir crazy. Oh no! My dog! I haven’t told Dane about her yet.

  We were pulling onto my street and I urgently said, “I have to warn you about something at my house. This is very important, so please pay attention.”

  Dane sat up a little straighter and hesitantly asked, “What is it?”

  “I have a dog. She’s one of the most important things in my life and if you hurt her in any way, shape, or form then I will not hesitate to go apeshit all over your ass. She’s a big black dog and she can be very intimidating. She might bark or growl or attempt to eat your face off. Do not touch her or I will make you wish you were never born. That’s all.”

  Dane slouched back down into the seat as I hit the button to open the garage door. I was so happy to finally be home.

  “I like dogs. I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” he said.

  After he parked in the garage, I grabbed the keys out of my ignition and went to open the door to my house. I turned around to give him one last warning. I stuck my finger in his face and said, “Don’t. Touch. The. Dog.”

  We walked in to the house and I was greeted with the sound of…..nothing. Most dogs run to greet their owners. Mine did no such thing. I turned on the lights in the kitchen and yelled, “Hello? Where is my warm welcome? Get off the bed and get in here!”

  “Are you sure you’re talking to a dog and not another guy?” Dane asked hesitantly.

  My little princess heard a strange voice and came running. Dane saw the black fur ball come barreling at him full force and he stood up against the wall with his hands in the air in a “don’t shoot, officer” gesture. My baby girl sniffed at his crotch, wagged her tail, and jumped up to lick his hands. She then nudged him with her head as if to say, “Pet me! Why aren’t you petting me?”

  Dane got the hint. He sat down cross-legged on the floor and my dog sat in his lap and put her head on his shoulder. It was clearly love at first sight. For both of them.

  “My buddy Spider had a pit bull. He was crazy about that damn dog. Hell, we all loved her. She was the smartest thing you ever saw in your life. Knew at least a hundred words and commands. She died of cancer when she was only four. That was the only time I ever saw him cry.”

  Dane blurted all this out while he gave my dog a full massage, starting behind the ears and moving on to a belly rub. She was putty in his hands. At once point her eyes rolled back into her head and her tongue stuck out. Really? This is my guard dog? At least I’d be able to make my escape while she kept the robbers occupied by demanding affection.

  “Who’s Spider? If he’s your friend then why can’t you stay with him?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t live anywhere near here,” Dane vaguely replied.

  “Where does he live?” Why was it so hard to pull answers out of this guy?

  “He lives in a galaxy far, far away,” he explained. Ugh! I give up.

  To my amazement, Dane began scratching the dog under her chin and started the baby-talk. “Who’s a pretty little girl? You are! Do you like your belly scratched? I bet you do! There’s a girl. Can you give me a kissie? I bet you can.” My dog was making out with Dane for all she was worth. He let her kiss him. On the lips.

  “Do you always get to first base so quickly?” I asked.

  “Only with the pretty ones,” he countered.

  I stalked off down the hallway to change into some dry clothes. I figured they would keep each other busy while I found something more suitable to wear. After pulling on a pair of jeans, thick socks, and a heavy sweater, I was all set. I made sure that the sweater was not low cut, yet still clung to me in a way that said, “Yes, I do have a nice chest under this outfit. You can look at me, but don’t touch. Yet.” My clothes spo
ke volumes.

  I returned to the kitchen to find the lovefest still going strong. My dog was lying in front of him, belly up, basking in all this attention.

  “Come on, you have to go outside and then eat some dinner. Are you hungry?” I asked. That was the magic word. She knew “hungry” as well as she knew her own name. She jumped up and followed me out the back door. I should probably explain the layout of my house. I live in a small ranch house. If you come in through the garage, you’ll find yourself in my laundry room. Go through that and you’ll end up in my kitchen. I have a sliding door to the right that leads to a small patio and a nice sized yard. There’s a tree line that forms a border around my property. I like the privacy. I have a nosy neighbor on the left side of me. She’s a whole other can of worms that I’m sorry I ever opened.

  Anyway, if you go through the kitchen then you’ll come to a hallway that leads to the living room and then my bedroom. There’s a full bathroom to the left of the kitchen and I also have a giant bathroom connected to my bedroom. I always found it odd that the bathrooms took up so much room in the house, yet it only had one bedroom. There’s no basement either. My washer and dryer are in the laundry room. My non-working washer. I really had to get that fixed.

  I let the dog out and she went crazy, playing in the snow. I yelled at her four times to do her business and get back in the house. She loves snow, but she loves food more.

  I brushed the snow off her shiny black coat and she ran right over to her food cabinet and sat nicely. After filling a cup and dumping it into her dish, she was all good. I looked up and noticed Dane staring at me.

  “Why don’t you take your coat and shoes off, hang them in the laundry room, and we can eat dinner. I know you’re hungry. I have left-over lasagna that I made yesterday and some dinner rolls to go with it.”

  He hung his head and said, “I appreciate you letting me stay here. I don’t expect you to feed me too. I’m not your problem.” I wondered exactly whose problem he was? If he had a girlfriend, then he would be staying at her house. No decent girl would let her man be homeless. If he was mine, I’d be out on the street with him. I’d take care of him and not let him be alone. Especially not if he looked like Dane.

 

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