Fahed wasn't the only one experiencing road rage. Other drivers were coming unglued. Men were swearing to themselves and tugging at ties. Fingers drummed impatiently on steering wheels. Someone behind me leaned on his horn.
“I'll give you one hundred dollars if you let me drive.” Fahed said.
“No.”
“A thousand.”
“No.”
“Five thousand.”
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “No.”
“You were tempted,” he said, smiling, looking satisfied.
Ugh.
An hour and a half later we managed to reach the New Brunswick interchange.
“I need something to drink,” Fahed said. “There's nothing to drink in this car. I'm used to having a stretch with a bar. I want you to find a place to get me a soda.”
I wasn't sure if this was limo protocol, but I figured what the hell, it was his nickel. I picked up Route 1 and looked for fast food. Not much of a challenge. The first thing that came up was a McDonald's. It was dinnertime and the drive-?through lane looked like the Jersey Turnpike, so I junked the drive-?through and parked the car.
“I want a Coke,” he said, sitting tight, clearly not interested in standing in line with the rest of New Jersey.
Don't freak out, I told myself. He's used to being waited on. “Anything else?”
“French fries.”
Fine. I grabbed my bag and crossed the lot. I swung though the door and chose a line. Two people in front of me. I studied the menu over the counter. One person left in front of me. I hiked my bag higher on my shoulder and looked out the window. I didn't see my car. There was a small twinge of alarm just below my heart. I scanned the lot. No car. I left the line and pushed through the door into the cool air. The car was gone.
Shit!
My first fear was that he'd been kidnapped. I'd been hired as a chauffeur and bodyguard for the sheik, and the sheik's been kidnapped. The fear was short-?lived. No one would want this rotten kid. Face it, Stephanie, that little snot took the car.
I had two choices. I could call the police. Or I could call Ranger.
I tried Ranger first. “Bad news,” I said. “I sort of lost the sheik.”
“Where did you lose him?”
“North Brunswick. He sent me into a McDonald's for a soda, and next thing I knew, he was gone.”
“Where are you now?”
“I'm still at the McDonald's.” Where else would I be?
“Don't move. I'll get back to you.”
The connection was severed. “When?” I asked the dead phone. “When?”
Ten minutes later the phone rang.
“No problem,” Ranger said. “Found the sheik.”
“How'd you find him?”
“I called the car phone.”