I could tell you the woman who came to my mother’s funeral today was a hooker, but that was an easy one. She was the only friend my mother had, and yet she didn’t know who I was. It didn’t surprise me that she didn’t know my mother had a daughter.
I could tell you in kindergarten everything about my teacher’s wardrobe, clothing size, a full catalog. I could tell you what she drove, what she ate for lunch, and that she had two crooked front teeth and dyed her hair every other month. Not because I spied, but because I simply couldn’t shut my brain off. When I saw something, my mind automatically catalogued it. At one point, my mother and her then-boyfriend thought it smart to have me see a shrink.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” my mother hissed at the desk when asked why she’d brought me in during my freshman year of high school. Long after my father died. “The girl’s a freak. She’s way smarter than she should be at her age.”
Her boyfriend only cringed. Assholes don’t like when the woman they’re screwing has a smart kid. They sniff out bullshit.
I tuned it all out. Tuned her out. I got used to it.
“Ma’am, you can’t bring her to see anyone on the grounds of her being… unusual,” the desk girl said as patiently as she could. Meanwhile, my cheeks burned with embarrassment. This was before I realized I could’ve just walked out.
The day you learn you can just walk is the first day of the rest of your life.
I come to with the sound of an approaching car. It gets louder as it draws nearer. I stand up straighter. I’m a little shaken I didn’t hear it sooner, but the sound of the waves is louder than I expected and the wind howls in my ears like a mourning lover.
My eyes pop open. Those wheels are moving at an alarming rate, so much so I’m not sure they could stop now if they wanted to, not without careening off the edge of this cliff. I stare out at the fading sun, and listen to the sound of the wheels to see if they’re approaching or leaving.
Definitely approaching, and at a good clip.
Someone’s coming up here, and fast.
I’m a few feet away from the road that leads up here. I know, because I walked every damn step by foot.
I clutch my small purse to my side and swivel to see what’s coming.
Who’s coming.
A stunning red convertible, as bold and vibrant as the dress that clings to my legs when the wind kicks up, approaches from the east side of the cliff. The top’s down. I can’t see who’s driving it, but whoever it is has a death wish, since they’re going at least a hundred miles an hour.
God, to be that bold. That daring. To feel the wind in my hair and not give a shit if I lived or died. To feel the power of that engine with a tap of your foot.
I draw in a breath and hold it as they come nearer and nearer. I can see the driver now, and my heart thumps a little faster. I can’t make out details, but I know from here it’s a guy, he’s big, and… yeah, he’s hot. Dark brown hair that falls across his brow, a T-shirt that clings to his frame… Faint strains of classic rock echo in the wind.
He slows as he nears me. My heart beats madly, and I clutch my bag as if it could save my life.
With the grace of a stallion coming to rest, the car purrs gently as it slows, then stops only feet away from me. He’s wearing sunglasses, his eyes hidden from me. Full lips tug upward in a smile, revealing perfectly straight white teeth, teeth that are too perfect, like the wolf’s before he ate Little Red Riding Hood.
Wow. He could grace the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. I’m rarely stunned by beauty, but this man… with his classic good looks and smooth, tan skin, I half expect him to speak to me in Italian.
“Hey, baby,” the stranger says, his voice smooth and seductive. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
A shiver courses through me.
I blink in surprise. It’s a classic pickup line, I know it, but that doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t beat a little faster at the heat that flares between the two of us.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me that humans need to be fed once in a while.
Fuck it.
My mother’s dead.
Today begins the rest of my life.
I get one night of freedom before I recommit myself to my mission, my purpose.
I’m cold, I’m alone, and I could think of worse ways to spend my time than with an anonymous stranger in a sexy car. A woman like me trusts no one, but today, I’m feeling bold and reckless, and the guy, as hot as he is, honestly looks like he’d help little old ladies cross the street.