It was then that I recalled something.Oh, no.The car had no plates. In the big scheme of things, that was several degrees more serious than a missing seatbelt. My stomach twisted. Was this car even legal?
With growing nervousness, I said, "But youdohave license plates? Like somewhere in the trunk or something?" I hesitated. "Right?"
He shook his head. "Sorry."
I groaned. "Oh, my God. Isthatwhy you didn't want to give me a ride?"
"I never said I didn't want to."
But he had. I racked my brains. Hadn't he?
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, I said, "What does that even mean?"
"It means, the car had nothing to do with it."
"But then why?" I asked.
"Because I’m a stranger." He made a hard scoffing sound. "And an asshole. Seems to me, you were showing piss-poor judgment."
Well, that was nice.So he was back to insulting me again? I gave him an annoyed look. "Then why'd you come out to get me?"
"Better me than someone else."
I gave him a stiff smile. "Like my driver?"
He didn’t smile back. "No. Like a fuckin' psycho. The world's full of them, you know."
"Yeah," I snapped. "I know." In fact, I was pretty sure that I was looking at one now. "But about this car–"
"Trust me. You don't wanna know."
"Actually, I do." I gave a bark of nervous laughter. "You didn't steal it or anything, did you?"
He looked at me for a long, tense moment. And the longer the silence stretched out, the more I wondered if my so-called joke was actually true.
Suddenly, I wasn't laughing anymore. "So, uh, did you?"
He turned away. "Like I said, you don't wanna know."
Oh, crap.
And with that, he shifted into gear and hit the gas.
Chapter 12
The Camaro roared forward with us inside. I whirled in my seat and saw the truck's headlights fade into the distance.
I whirled back to the painter and said, "You stole this?That'swhat you're saying?"
He was still watching the road. "Did I say that?"'
"No."
"Well, there you go."
I stared at him. "That's no kind of answer."
He gave me a sideways glance. "Relax. I didn't steal it."
