Chapter 23: 23


    I skirt his car and move to get in quickly, inhaling heavily to calm my rattled nerves, I slide in and put on


    my belt while he stows my bags in the rear thenes to join me inside. He looks me over for a


    second, a hint of sheer bewilderment, before starting the car. The frown and the sudden silence I know


    only too well. He is mulling it over and I can’t tell what conclusion he hase to. I also know him that


    if he doesn’t like a subject, he drops it fast and moves on quickly. I already know that’s what he is about


    to do.


    “To the Hamptons,” he finally states as he maneuvers us back into traffic, not really looking at me. He


    shifts in his seat to getfy, adjusts his mirror and fiddles with a couple of dials on the stereo without


    looking my way. Fidgeting is something he does rarely. Okay, never, and it only super sensitizes my


    already frayed nerves. That bite of anxiety and I take a long, slow, deep inhale to calm myself. I hate


    that thesest few minutes of conversation has weirded him out this way.


    We‘ve barely gotten up to speed when his ringtone shrills through the car, cutting through the tense


    atmosphere like a wee rm. He flicks something on the panel beside the wheel, hitting the dash


    button to answer it on speaker without checking caller ID, and carries on watching the road.


    “Hello, Arrick Carrero speaking.” He answers brightly in his normal business tone. I rx back in my


    chair, trying to push all the tension forming inside of me away, and try to forget thest five minutes by


    brushing it off as nothing. This is a four-hour road trip, and we have enough to get through before I get


    home without starting out with awkwardness and strange ‘joojoo’ between us.


    “Hey, Darling.” Natasha’s voice oozes over the internal speakers, a little too honey-like for my liking. Try


    as I might to warm to her, I just can’t. To me, she is the absolute worst for him, they are alike, yet she is


    also boring, anal, and far too prim. Like a neen fifties reject who dresses like a Stepford wife. We’re


    not that far apart in age, but she acts like she’s my mom’s age at times and she seems to make him


    forget that he is still young enough to have fun or freedom.


    “Hey.” Arrick nces at me with a slightly raised eyebrow, warning me to behave, knowing that


    sarcasm is a swift reaction. Not that he can ever stop the crap thates out my mouth when ites


    to her, it’s impulsive, like breathing or throwing up when you drink too much.


    “Are you on your way home already?” Over the phone she has the sort of sweet girly voice that is used


    in cartoons for romantic heroines and Disney princesses. I have to curb the urge to eye roll, picturing


    that bright curly brown hair and elfin-like pale face. I can almost see her in her baking apron decorating


    cupcakes as birds clean the kitchen and I slump down in my seat to rest my chin on my hand on the


    windowsill, staring at passing scenery inplete irritation. Natasha is the gray cloud to my sunshine,


    even on the brightest day.


    “We just picked up Sophie’s things from her apartment; she didn’t have a whole lot and heading there


    now. Did you want something before I left the city?” Arrick is rxed again, seriousness passed, sitting


    back as he effortlessly controls his sporty car. I, on the other hand, am squirming to getfy and


    trying to ignore the urge to cancel his call via the middle button, just so I can kill that shrill voice. My


    stomach aches with the sheer need to swear at something.


    “No, it’s okay. I’ll see you when you get back. I just left something at your ce, but it can wait. I will


    miss you, Darling.” That nauseating sweet tone oozes with sickly emotion; she obviously knows she is


    on speaker, so I don’t get the over the top ‘lovey-doveyness’.


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    Bitch!


    “You too, Tash.” Arrick frowns as I eye roll at him, a bad habit I can’t curb even when I try really hard.


    He lets go of the wheel to roughly shove my shoulder and gives me another warning look. I stick my


    tongue out at him in response, annoyed that he always takes her side, even though there isn’t actually


    anything to defend right now. It just annoys me that he can’t see how god-awful she really is, or that


    she always wears the wrong shoes with just about every ugly dress she ever puts on. An asional


    belt or nice essory wouldn’t go amiss, or even a heel that is above an inch.


    “Have a nice trip and say hi to your family for me. And you, Sophie. I hope you have a nice trip too.”


    That super gaggy sweetness gives me and stick my fingers down my throat. I pull a face of utter


    disgust and mouth a mock repetition of what the girl has said, Arrick shoves my shoulder a little harder


    and this time res my way hotly. I have the urge to shove him back, as that one actually hurt my arm.


    Tossing my frostiest re instead and stick my finger up in a very ssy bird. I narrow my eyes,


    warring with the silent scolding he’s giving me before I relent with gritted teeth and a pasted on ‘uber’


    fake smile he has always hated. I’m doing it for that reason.


    “Thank you, Natasha. I’m sure I will have a thrilling time,” I reply cattily. Arrick lifts a palm in question,


    another narrowed frown my way and mutters something at me through his own gritted teeth. I raise my


    eyebrows at him snootily and go back to staring at the scenery with an irritated surge of anger building


    inside. I hate that girl more than any of hisst girlfriends, not that I met many, and I wouldn’t care if she


    choked to death - on one of her overly pink cupcakes I am sure she makes with gluten-free flour, and


    organic fat free, vorless sweetener!