Chapter 17
Vince pulled his car up to Jake's building and stopped in the turnaround, under the building's wide, protective awning. Graciously, he offered me and Bianca the chance to exit the car without getting drenched.
Bianca, lovely person that she was, actually protested, although not in any way that would do her credit. "You can letmeoff," she told Vince, "but why Luna?"
She turned around to sneer at me, still shivering in the back seat. "Look at her. She's soaked already. What difference does it makenow?"
She gave a mean little giggle. "What you should do," she told him, "is letherpark the car, so you don't ruin your suit." She flashed me an overly sweet smile. "You don't mind, do you? Because let's all be reasonable here. If it weren't for us, you'd still be out there walking."
Silently, I looked to Vince. If it were just Bianca, I'd tell her to shove it. But Vince was the one who'd actually given me a ride, in spite of Bianca's protests, apparently.
I didn't like the guy, but I didn't want to be ungrateful either. And rude or not, Bianca did have a point. It's not like I could get much wetter.
But Vince was shaking his head. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now, go on. I'll park the car and see you both inside."
Ignoring more snide commentary from Bianca, I pushed open the car-door and began stepping out of the vehicle, only to see Pete, the doorman, bolt out of the building and yank my door open even wider – so wide, in fact, that I was half-worried it would fly off its hinges.
His eyes were frantic as he told me, "Am I ever glad to see you."
It was so unlike him that I paused in mid-step. "Why? Is something wrong?"
As if remembering himself, he straightened and said in a much calmer voice. "No. Everything's fine. I'll just inform Jake that you're back."
"That's okay," I told him, hoping to soothe away whatever was wrong. "I'm heading upstairs now." I tried for a reassuring smile. "So I'll just tell Jake myself. You know, in person."
Pete froze, as if unsure how to respond. I waited, wondering why that might be a problem. And the longer he stood there, not saying anything at all, the more uncertain I became.
Before I'd left for that ill-fated walk, Jake and I had been fighting. I'd stormed out, and he hadn't tried to stop me. And now, Pete was acting all funny. What did that mean? Had Jake changed the key-codes while I'd been away? Was I not allowed in his condo anymore?
No, I told myself. Jake wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kick me out over one stupid fight. And even if hewerekicking me out, he wouldn’t do it like this.
Would he?
Jake was the guy I loved, and I knew he loved me. But I'd seen him act in ways that were beyond cold when it came to other girls. When he was done with them, for whatever reason, he didn't mess around with the normal niceties.
The sound of throat-clearing jolted me back to reality. It was Bianca, leaning her head out of her open car window. She was glaring at Pete. "Excuse me," she called in a tone of obvious annoyance, "Aren't you planning to getmydoor?"
Before Pete could answer,Idid. "Oh for God's sake, get it yourself, will you?"
Her lips pursed. "In case you haven't noticed, the car is wet."
"Really?" I said, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice, much like the water that was still dripping from my hair. "I had no idea."
She ignored my comment and kept on talking. "And why should Ihaveto get it, when there's a perfectly good doorman, right there?" She gave a toss of her long, dark – and yes, perfectly dry – hair. "I knowyou'renot used to such things, but trust me, there's a protocol to this."
She turned back to Pete and said, "Well? I'm waiting."
"Of course," he stammered, hustling forward to open her car door. "I apologize. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," Bianca snapped. And then, while he waited, she took her sweet time getting out of the vehicle, showing off her long, tan legs and jaunty peach heels that, of course, perfectly matched her designer dress.
When Pete closed the car door behind her, she waltzed away, giving him zero thanks.
I felt my blood pressure rise. I'd been in Pete's shoes countless times, maybe not as a doorman. But I'd had my share of service jobs. Most people were great. But others – people like Bianca – seemed to get a real kick out of pushing someone around, just because they could.
As Vince's car pulled away, I watched Bianca stroll casually across the ornate outdoor rug that led to the building's glass double-doors. My gaze narrowed, and my fingers clenched. Maybe she could use a good push, and I didn’t mean verbally.
In spite of everything, the thought wasalmostenough to make me smile.
