He just looks at me. “Shit, woman.”
“What?”
“You’re like a real-life princess or some shit.”
“My father is very wealthy, and very traditional.”
“Gettin’ that.” He shakes his head again as he swings on. “So, darlin’. Where ya wanna go?”
“Where doIwish to go?” I ask this as I climb on beside him.
“Yeah.” He gestures with a wide sweep of his hand. “You’re the one on the run. I got nothin’ but time, and nowhere to be. So…where ya wanna go, beautiful?”
My heart pounds. “We can goanywhere?”
“Ridin’ to Hawaii might be a trick, but I could figure it out.”
My mind goes blank. “No one has ever asked me what I want before.”
He goes very, very still at this. “Gotta be shittin’ me.”
“I do not know what this means, to be shitting you.”
“Means I’m askin’ if you’re for real, serious.”
“I would not joke about such a thing.”
“No one’s ever asked you what you want?”
I shrug. “No. I am simply told what to do, and I am expected to do it.”
“What about shopping?”
“I am told, we are going to Paris, or London, or wherever. The items are brought to me, but I have no say in what is brought to me. I simply choose from what is presented to me.”
“What about food?”
“It is prepared by Pappa’s chef. If we are out somewhere, Pappa chooses the restaurant.”
“You order for yourself, at least?”
“No. I tell Pappa what I want, and he places the order for me.”
“Jesus fuckin’ shits. You’re a goddamn prisoner.” He sounds shocked to his very core.
“It is not so bad as that. It is simply the way it is.”
“’Cause you don’t know any different.” He stares at me, hard, as if seeing into me. “Also, like to point out, you ran away.”
“That was different.”
“Oh?” The question is in that single syllable.
“I will tell you. Not now. Now, you drive us somewhere. I will think on where I would like to go.”
“Sounds good.” He kicks up the stand but does not go yet. “Ever been to the beach?”
“Yes. Not here, but back home, in Mumbai.”
