“David!” Brook squealed as she wrapped me in a bear hug.
“I see how I rate,” Cassidy pouted.
Brook let go of me and gave Cassidy the same treatment.
“Why don’t you guys take off? We’ll get everything set and order fuel for the return flight,” Roy assured us.
I wasn’t about to argue with the man. I wanted to spend time with Brook.
◊◊◊
Brook handed me her car keys.
“Someone’s parents feel guilty,” I said.
Before me was a Porsche 911 Turbo S in dark green with black stripes and a rear spoiler. The 911 had had the same look for over 50 years, but let’s be honest, why mess with perfection?
We quickly found two of its shortcomings: it had a dinky trunk, and the back seat wasn’t much larger than Duke’s crate. Cassidy gave me the stink eye when she was forced to sit in the back.
I fired it up and listened to the engine purr.
“Oh, hell, yes,” I almost whispered and gripped the steering wheel.
“Careful when you push it. Lola will drop into Sports Plus mode. The way it was explained to me is that the transmission and throttle program go into special aggressive modes; the suspension tightens up to its maximum setting; and the steering firms up. She basically becomes a beast.”
I eased out of the parking space and took a minute to familiarize myself with how it handled. It felt lighter on its feet than my Demon but didn’t have quite the same raw power. It didn’t really need it, though, because it didn’t weigh as much.
I loved how responsive it was. I also figured out that Brook was right. When you punched it, the car converted itself into a race car in the blink of an eye.
I was a little pissed when a state highway patrolman pulled out of the airport right behind us. Fortunately, the trooper just followed us and didn’t pull us over—yet.
“You can lose him, David,” Cassidy encouraged.
“Don’t you dare,” Brook warned. “I’ve already gotten one ticket, and Mom said that if I get another one, I lose my car privileges.”
“David’s the one who’ll get the ticket
It was like having the devil on my shoulder, encouraging me to do bad things. I so wanted to play with this car. In the end, Brook’s pleading look won out.
She directed us to a road that ran along the Ohio River and then to a home on a bluff overlooking both the river and the city skyline.
“We live across the street, but I want to go to my grandma’s house first. My cousins are dying to meet you,” Brook said.
Brook pulled a remote out of the glove box and pushed the button. A wrought-iron gate slid back, and we pulled into a walled courtyard. There must have been an electronic eye because as soon as we’d cleared the gate, it closed behind us. I pulled up and parked. Even if we couldn’t stretch its legs, that was a fun ride.
I took a moment to check the car out more closely and was startled when my door opened. I looked up at a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, but it was hard to judge because he had ‘old eyes.’ Those deep, wise eyes made him look like he’d lived several lifetimes. I knew instantly that he was part of Grace Davenport’s security team.
“Keys,” he said as he held out his hand.
I pulled them out of the ignition and handed them to him.
“Go ahead and take it across the street. We’ll walk home after I see Grandma,” Brook told him.
He nodded and waited for me to get out. I chuckled as I watched Cassidy struggle to get herself out of the matchbox-sized back seat. While we waited for her, I took in the house—mansion, really. It had a look that said it had to be from old money, just like Brook’s family was. I didn’t think it was nearly as old as some of the homes I’d seen in New Orleans, but it had to have been built at least a century ago.
Brook walked in like she owned the place. I heard a girl’s voice shriek, “He’s here!”
I looked at Brook, and she rolled her eyes as two girls who looked very much like Brook came flying into the grand entrance. When they got close to me, they froze and then giggled.
“David, I would like you to meet my cousins, Breanne and Chelsea,” Brook said as an introduction.
“Are you brain-damaged? You broke up with him?” Breanne asked.
“She must be. Seriously, what kind of douchetard dumps her movie-star boyfriend?” Chelsea asked.
“Douchetard? I’m totally stealing that,” Cassidy said and pushed past me. “Hi, I’m Cassidy.”
I looked at Brook and mouthed, ‘douchetard?’ She looked like she was about to go off on her cousins.
“I bet you two have all kinds of stories about Brook,” I said as I began to dig for dirt.
Brook slugged me in the arm for my troubles. I was glad the girls decided to start telling tales.
“You have no idea how lucky you are that she dumped you. When I was ten, we went to summer camp, and that bitch left a live raccoon in my bedroom on the first day,” Chelsea complained.
“Please, woman. Rocky was delightful. He was your ‘welcome to camp’ present,” Brook said.
Chelsea made a rude gesture, and Breanne picked up the story.
