Wordless

by Sabrina Stark

  Huh. Becka was right.

  I could see Imogen's pussy. Not shaved. Waxed. Not that it mattered. The truth was, I preferred a more natural look, and this wasn't it.

  I looked at Becka and said, "Wait here."

  She gave the limo a worried glance. "But what are you gonna do? Like, do you need help or something?"

  Help dealing with my ex?

  No thanks.

  I turned away. "No. I've got this. Don't worry."

  I left the driver's seat and shut the car door behind me. As I did, Imogen stalked forward and said, "I knew it!"

  I gave her a look. "You knew what?"

  She pointed toward my passenger's seat. "I knew you and her had a thing."

  If so, that made one of us.

  But hey, I didn't owe Imogen an explanation. We were over, period. Hell, we'd been over for weeks now.

  I passed her without comment and strode to the limo's driver's side door. I rapped on the glass, and when it slid down, I told the driver, "You need to move."

  The driver was a doughy guy named Randy. He wore no nametag, but he didn't need one. I'd heard his name plenty of times already, thanks to a viral video that had been captured several months ago outside this very same gate.

  More to the point, I'd met him in person earlier today when I'd told him to take Imogen wherever. Anywhere but here.

  From the driver's seat, he gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

  I didn't need an apology. I needed him to get out of my way. "The limo," I said. "You need to move it. Now."

  He winced. "I, uh, can't."

  He was wrong.

  He could. And he would.

  I leaned closer. "You wanna tell me why?"

  Imogen sidled up to me and announced, "Because I told him to wait right here. That's why."

  Without bothering to reply, I said to Randy, "You can wait all you want, after you let us through."

  He cleared his throat. "Yeah, about that…" His gaze shifted to Imogen. "I, uh, don't have the key."

  I looked to Imogen. "Give him the key."

  She smiled. "What makes you think I have it?"

  It wasn't hard to figure out. Still, I was a curious guy. I looked to Randy and asked, "How the hell did she get the key?"

  From the sidelines, Imogen said, "Hey! You still don't know that I have it."

  Oh, I knew.

  Randy said, "We were sitting together up front. That's all." His face broke into a sudden grin. "Getting to know each other."

  "Hey!" Imogen said yet again. "It wasn't the way you're making it sound!" She looked to me and said, "We were just visiting. That's all."

  Right. Because Imogen just loved to visit with "the help," as she called them.

  Randy spoke up. "See? That's what I said, too."

  Imogen gave him an irritated look. "Yeah, but you made it sound way worse."

  A funny thing about Imogen, when she got agitated, her high-dollar accent was shaky at best. It was shaky now and getting shakier with every passing word.

  As if looking to prove the point, she told Randy, "I mean, it's not like I was blowing you or anything."

  She could blow him and half of the town for all I cared. All I wanted was to get the limo out of my way.

  I looked to Imogen and said, "Wait here."

  "But—"

  "I'll be right back." I turned away, heading toward the car I'd been driving. I strode to the passenger's side door and opened it up. As I did, Becka gave me a perplexed look.

  I explained, "I just need to grab something out of the glove compartment."

  Normally I wasn't one to explain myself, but hey, the storage was in her space, and the last thing I wanted was for her to bolt.

  As she watched, I reached into the car and opened the glove compartment. Sure enough, there was a screwdriver buried under some paperwork. I pulled it out and slammed the compartment shut.

  Becka frowned. "What do you need that for?"

  "I'll be right back."

  "Hey, you didn't answer my question."

  "I'll tell you when I'm done."

  "Done with what?" she asked.

  I flicked my head toward the limo. "Getting them out of our way."

  She gave the limo a worried glance. "You're not going to hurt them or anything, are you?"

  If I was, I wouldn't need a screwdriver to do it. But that wasn't worth mentioning, so all I said was, "No." I shoved the screwdriver into my back pocket and turned away, shutting the passenger's side door behind me.

  When I returned to the limo, Imogen and Randy were still arguing back and forth.

  Imogen was saying, "I did not grab your crotch!"

  From the driver's seat, Randy said, "Hey, I'm not complaining. I kind of liked it."

  Imogen looked to me and explained, "I was just getting the key out of his pocket, that's all. He's reading way more into it."

  Randy gave Imogen a perplexed look. "Hey, how come you're not English anymore?"

  "Oh, screw you!" she said.

  "I was just askin'…"

  I moved between them and looked to Randy. "Get out."

  He blinked. "What, why?"

  "Because I’m gonna move it myself."

  "The limo?" He frowned. "But you don't have the key."

  Imogen grabbed my elbow. "Seriously, you saw where I was sitting when you drove up, right? I mean, I wasn't sitting up front. I was sitting in the back by myself. All alone."

  Yeah. Her and the car key.

  It didn't matter. I was only half-listening. "Good to know." I gave Randy a look. "Now, are you gonna get out or not?"

  His eyebrows furrowed. "I don't think I should."

  That's what he thought. "Why not?"

  "Because the last time I got out at this gate, my limo got all smashed up."

  Yeah. I'd seen the footage, along with a few million other people. But that was then. This was now. I replied, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna smash it." Or at least, not most of it.

  Imogen looked to Randy and said, "He will, too. He smashes limos all the time."

  If the guy believed that, he was more clueless than he looked. But it didn't matter. He wasn't my primary problem.

  I turned and gave Imogen a look. "Your accent – he's right. It's slipping."

  "Sorry, what?"

  "Your English accent," I said. "It's getting sloppy."

  She drew back. "Pardon?"

  "You heard me."

  With all the dignity of a duchess, she announced, "I don't know what you're implying, but I can assure you, I don't appreciate it."

  Yeah. Welcome to the club.

  I looked back to Randy. "You've got ten seconds."

  "For what?"

  "To get out, before I drag you out."

  Imogen blurted, "Don't do it."

  I didn't know who she was talking to – me or Randy. Either way, I was doing it, all right. "Five seconds."

  Randy swallowed. "But—"

  "Three."

  That did the trick. Randy turned and scrambled into the passenger's seat before bolting out through the passenger's side door. He slammed the door shut behind him and stood a few feet away chewing on his bottom lip.

  If I were a different kind of person, I might've felt guilty. But hey, the limo would be fine – or at least fixable. And in five minutes, Randy could reclaim his seat and sit here all night for all I cared.

  It was a good plan – or at least good enough – until she ruined it.

  And I didn't mean Imogen.

  Chapter 15

  Becka

  What on Earth was going on?

  I had no idea, but I didn't like the look on Randy's face as he scrambled out of the limo – on the wrong side, no less. Under the glare of our headlights, he looked worried and maybe even scared.

  Until now, I hadn't even realized that Randy was the one driving. If I had known, I might've insisted on handling this myself regardless of what Jack said.

  A few months earlier, I'd met Randy through my sister
, who'd first met him when she'd been waitressing at the local waffle house. It's not like I'd call Randy a friend, but I liked him. He was nice and friendly – a lot friendlier than Jack Ward, that's for sure.

  Without pausing to think, I pushed open my car door. Shutting it behind me, I strode toward them, calling out to Randy, "What's going on?"

  But it wasn't Randy who answered. It was Imogen, who looked to me and yelled, "Go away! We don't want any."

  I felt my jaw clench. Any what?

  Whoop-ass? Because that's exactly what I felt like giving her.

  By now, I'd had more than enough. I strode forward and sidled up to Randy, who was watching with obvious concern as Jack Ward yanked open the limo's driver's side door.

  I called out to Jack, "Wait, what are you doing?"

  "What does it look like?" he said, ducking into the limo.

  Talk about a non-answer. I lunged forward and yanked open the passenger's side door. I lowered my head and looked inside just in time to see Jack settle himself into the driver's seat. He was holding the screwdriver in his right hand as if he were getting ready to attack the steering column.

  "Wait!" I pointed to the screwdriver. "What are you gonna do with that?"

  From behind me, Randy grumbled, "He's gonna ruin the limo, that's what."

  I asked Jack, "Is that true?"

  He replied, "You want this thing moved or not?"

  "Of course I want it moved," I said, "but not if it ruins anything."

  "Don't worry," he said. "It's fixable."

  "But why not just ask for the keys? Or better yet, ask Randy to move it himself?" I gave Jack a hard look. "I know he would if you'd just ask nicely."

  With cool deliberation, Jack lowered the screwdriver. With something like a smile, he said, "You wanna try that? Go ahead. I'll wait."

  For some reason, his smile – as subtle as it was – was making me just a little bit nervous.

  Obviously, he knew something that I didn't. But hey, I knew something, too, and I was perfectly willing to share it. "You know," I said, "sometimes politeness goes a long way in solving problems."

  His eyebrows lifted. "Is that so?"

  "Definitely. And if you wait, I'll prove it." With sudden inspiration, I said, "First, just get out of the car, okay?"

  When he made no move, I said, "Please? I mean, it's hard for me to focus when I'm worried about you ruining something."

  More to himself than to me, he said, "This should be good."

  I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but it didn't matter. To my surprise, he actually listened to what I was saying and pushed open the driver's side door. A moment later, he was standing outside like the rest of us.

  Randy and I were on the passenger's side, while Jack and Imogen were on the other. Forcing a sunny smile, I turned to Randy and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Now, will you please do us a huge favor and move the limo?"

  Randy frowned. "I can't."

  My smile faltered. "But why not?"

  "Because I don't have the key."

  Now, I was the one frowning. "So, who does?"

  From limo's other side, Imogen's voice rang out, loud and clear. "Looking for this?"

  When I looked, she was holding out a car key in front of her, swinging it back and forth from its key fob.

  Reluctantly, I looked to Jack. He said nothing, but his expression said it all.

  I told you so.

  My own words from just a few moments ago echoed in my brain. "Sometimes politeness goes a long way in solving problems."

  Crap.

  Still, I dug deep and forced another smile. I looked back to Imogen and replied, "Yes. As a matter of fact, I am. Would you please give that to Randy so he can move the limo?"

  Now she was the one smiling. "No."

  Double crap. Again, I looked to Jack. She was his non-girlfriend. Shouldn't he be doing something?

  But then I remembered, he had been doing something. And I'd stopped him. But still, I couldn’t quite regret it, or at least not all of it. After all, I still didn't want the limo damaged.

  I looked back to Imogen and said, "Oh come on! If you don't give up the key, Jack will damage the limo. You don't want that, do you?"

  "Why not?" she said with a sly look at Jack. "I think it's hot."

  "What?" I shook my head. "Hot how?"

  "Hot-wiring a car," she said. "It's sexy, don’t you think?"

  Embarrassingly, I did.

  How messed up was that?

  And yet, I didn't find it so sexy that I'd actually let it happen. I returned my attention to Jack. He looked more disturbed than flattered.

  And yet, he made no move to retrieve the key.

  Damn it. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was making me eat my own words, that's what.

  With a sound of annoyance, I turned and stalked around the front of the limo. I bypassed Jack and stood facing Imogen. I held out my hand, palm up. "The key," I said. "I need it now."

  From behind me, Jack said, "What, no 'please'?"

  I whirled back to face him. "What?"

  He grinned. "It's only polite, right?"

  Damn it. The way it looked, he was actually enjoying this. Jerk. I looked back to Imogen and gritted out, "Please."

  Her smile widened. "No."

  I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Pretty please?"

  Her eyes were glinting now. "Don't you mean with sugar on top?"

  Oh, I'd give her sugar, all right. Still, through clenched teeth, I said, "Yes. Fine. With sugar on top."

  Still, she made no move to hand over the key. "It doesn't count if you don't say it all at once."

  Oh, for God's sake. Nearly choking on my words, I somehow managed to say, "Will you pretty please, with sugar on top, give me the key?"

  "No." She gave a toss of her long, dark hair. "Sorry."

  Sorry, my ass. She was enjoying this.

  Well, I wasn't.

  With a sound of irritation, I reached out, intending to snatch the key from her bony fingers. As I did, she jerked her hand upward, holding the key high above her head.

  Dumbfounded, I stared up at the thing. What now?

  She was still wearing those stupid heels, and I was in sneakers. But even footwear aside, she had at least five inches on me, which meant that the key was firmly out of my reach.

  I turned to look at Jack. He was taller than her and then some.

  I gave him a pleading look. "Well? Why don't you get it? I mean, it's right there." I jerked my thumb toward the key. "You can see it, right?"

  His gaze shifted to the key. "I see it."

  "So?"

  "Hey, you have your approach. I have mine."

  Obviously, his approach was to mangle Randy's limo. I wanted to scream. This whole thing was so incredibly stupid, like something straight out of grade school.

  Already, I'd had a crappy day, and all of my worldly belongings were stuffed in one single car – a car that couldn’t even get through the gate unless that limo moved out of the way.

  Damn it.

  Enough was enough.

  Chapter 16

  Becka

  I turned and leapt for the key. Missing it by several inches, I collided with Imogen and tumbled forward of my own momentum, sending me and Imogen toppling into a nearby flower bed.

  She screamed. I screamed. One thing led to another, and soon, she was on top of me, pressing my back into the begonias – or whatever they were.

  It's not like I was a flower expert or anything.

  At a sudden flash of light, both of us froze. I looked up to see Randy standing a few feet away holding out his cell phone like a camera.

  I glared up at him. "What are you doing?"

  He glanced away. "Nothing."

  Imogen leapt up and whirled to face Randy. "I swear to God, if you took a picture—"

  Jack's voice cut through the commotion. "You'll what?"

  Like a total idiot, I was still lying in the flower bed. With a groan, I pushed myself up to a sit
ting position and looked from Imogen to Jack.

  Jack was eying Imogen with a cold, steely gaze that would've made me shiver if it were directed at me.

  As for Imogen, she was covered in bits of dirt and flower petals. She was missing both of her shoes, and her underpants were askew. Still, she thrust back her shoulders and announced, "If he took a photo, he'll be very sorry, that's what."

  My gaze shifted to Randy. He was gazing down at his phone with bright eyes and a happy smile. Whatever emotion he was feeling, it wasn't sorrow.

  Imogen barked out, "Hey! Limo driver!"

  He looked up. "What?"

  "You'd better delete that."

  He blinked a few times before shoving his cell phone into his pocket. "Delete what?"

  Part of me wanted the snicker. The other part was too busy wondering why my hair felt funny. When I reached back to smooth it, my hand came away covered with clumps of dirt and stray flower petals.

  Well, this was just lovely.

  As Imogen and Randy argued back and forth about the photo, I reluctantly looked to Jack.

  He was eying me with thinly veiled amusement.

  I said, "What's so funny?"

  He shrugged. "Am I laughing?"

  "No. But you want to. I can tell."

  He flicked his head toward something a few feet behind me. "You wanna grab that?"

  I turned to look, and spotted the key, lying in a patch of grass just beyond the flower bed. I lunged toward it and snatched it up quicker than you could say, "Thanks for the help, buddy."

  I was still wallowing in dirt, but at least I had the thing I needed. When I looked back to Jack, he held out his hand, palm up as if waiting for me to give him the key.

  But all I gave him was a cold look. "If you think I'm giving it to you, you're crazy." No. I was going to give it Randy, so he could simply move the limo and be done with this whole twisted scene – well, when he was done dealing with Imogen, that is.

  Even now she was saying, "I know you took one."

  He replied, "One what?"

  "A photo, just like I said."

  "A photo of what?"

  "My ass! That's what."

  When I looked back to Jack, his eyes filled with amusement as he nudged his hand closer. "Actually," he said, "I was gonna help you up."

  Heat flooded my face. "Oh."

  Technically, I didn't need any help, but it seemed incredibly rude to refuse, especially after snapping at him like that.