Back at my place I jammed the stolen sweaters into my duffel bag, along with some other clothes. Then I stood on my bed and untacked my map, folded it neatly, slipped it inside, and zipped the whole thing shut. I locked the door behind me, having left just enough behind so that maybe it would look like I planned on coming back.
Outside I had one decision left to make: which car to steal. It had to be something that the whole world wouldn’t notice as I drove by. And it ought to be an American-made car, because that’s the kind Cody had the most experience fixing. In a weird way this was just the teensiest bit exciting. All these months I’d known, courtesy of Cody’s memories, how to start a car with nothing but a screwdriver.
My heart skipped three beats as a car puttering up the road backfired. I got to the corner of North State and Magnolia and was looking wildly up and down for a likely prospect when the same car honked at me. Just great. The car looked as sorry as it sounded, with dents and rust spots and a convertible top with threads hanging down from it. And as it pulled up beside me, who should I see behind the wheel but James, wearing his long black leather jacket, plus thick black leather gloves that looked like they had sheepskin lining.
“Anna Marie,” he said. “Hop in!” His voice sounded bright and cheerful, like he was inviting me to go to the movies or a dance or something. I didn’t get into the car just yet, but I poked my head in.
“How far you going?” I asked.
“How far do you want to go?”
If he’d racked his whole brain for a million years, he couldn’t have come up with a better answer. The car had a bench seat. I threw my duffel bag in first so it could be a buffer between us. Then I hunkered down in the front seat and set to searching for a decent radio station. It was going to be a long, long ride.
The car was hotter than hell. Not only did James have the windows rolled up, he had the heat cranked. “You gotta be kidding me,” I said. He glanced over like he had no clue what I was talking about.
“You think we could use the air-conditioning instead of the heat?” I said.
“Sure,” James said. He sounded so calm, that same kind of elegant, almost musical voice. “Please do whatever you like. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a little leeway. “It’s an old car, for sure.” I leaned over and switched the dial from red to blue. The chances that the air conditioner in this old jalopy worked were slim. Luckily Cody knew just how to fix the air-conditioning in an old Camaro, so even if it didn’t work now, I could repair it on up the road.
“What does that do?” James asked, as I fiddled with the dial. “Clean up the oxygen?”
“The oxygen? What’re you talking about?”
“You called it an air conditioner. So is the air going to get a little cleaner? Easier to breathe?”
“You don’t know what an air conditioner is?”
He paused, like he knew he’d made a mistake. Then — hallelujah — cold air started flowing from the dashboard, and he set into shivering. I rolled my eyes and clicked it off.
“Here,” I said. “A compromise. We’ll turn off the heat, which makes the car hotter, and also turn off the air conditioner. Which makes the air colder. Not easier to breathe. Do you want to tell me why you’re the only person in the world who doesn’t know that?”
James nodded at the windshield. Up ahead there was a big highway sign, giving us the choice between 220 South or 55 North.
“Do you want to talk about my knowledge of automotive terms?” he said. “Or do you want to tell me which way we’re going?”
“North,” I said, feeling a little guilty for wanting to head to cooler climates. “Definitely north.” I waited for him to complain, say he wanted to head where it was hotter, but he didn’t. He just eased the car onto Interstate 55. I listened for sirens blaring behind us and didn’t hear anything. A sign by the road said it was 544 miles to Winona, Tennessee. I asked James, “How do you feel about driving straight through the night?”
“Works for me.”
“In that case, we don’t have to talk about a doggone thing, if you don’t want to.”
read the full version plus the other romance novel starring She-Hulk entitled "The She Hulk Diaries" HERE
Outside I had one decision left to make: which car to steal. It had to be something that the whole world wouldn’t notice as I drove by. And it ought to be an American-made car, because that’s the kind Cody had the most experience fixing. In a weird way this was just the teensiest bit exciting. All these months I’d known, courtesy of Cody’s memories, how to start a car with nothing but a screwdriver.
My heart skipped three beats as a car puttering up the road backfired. I got to the corner of North State and Magnolia and was looking wildly up and down for a likely prospect when the same car honked at me. Just great. The car looked as sorry as it sounded, with dents and rust spots and a convertible top with threads hanging down from it. And as it pulled up beside me, who should I see behind the wheel but James, wearing his long black leather jacket, plus thick black leather gloves that looked like they had sheepskin lining.
“Anna Marie,” he said. “Hop in!” His voice sounded bright and cheerful, like he was inviting me to go to the movies or a dance or something. I didn’t get into the car just yet, but I poked my head in.
“How far you going?” I asked.
“How far do you want to go?”
If he’d racked his whole brain for a million years, he couldn’t have come up with a better answer. The car had a bench seat. I threw my duffel bag in first so it could be a buffer between us. Then I hunkered down in the front seat and set to searching for a decent radio station. It was going to be a long, long ride.
The car was hotter than hell. Not only did James have the windows rolled up, he had the heat cranked. “You gotta be kidding me,” I said. He glanced over like he had no clue what I was talking about.
“You think we could use the air-conditioning instead of the heat?” I said.
“Sure,” James said. He sounded so calm, that same kind of elegant, almost musical voice. “Please do whatever you like. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a little leeway. “It’s an old car, for sure.” I leaned over and switched the dial from red to blue. The chances that the air conditioner in this old jalopy worked were slim. Luckily Cody knew just how to fix the air-conditioning in an old Camaro, so even if it didn’t work now, I could repair it on up the road.
“What does that do?” James asked, as I fiddled with the dial. “Clean up the oxygen?”
“The oxygen? What’re you talking about?”
“You called it an air conditioner. So is the air going to get a little cleaner? Easier to breathe?”
“You don’t know what an air conditioner is?”
He paused, like he knew he’d made a mistake. Then — hallelujah — cold air started flowing from the dashboard, and he set into shivering. I rolled my eyes and clicked it off.
“Here,” I said. “A compromise. We’ll turn off the heat, which makes the car hotter, and also turn off the air conditioner. Which makes the air colder. Not easier to breathe. Do you want to tell me why you’re the only person in the world who doesn’t know that?”
James nodded at the windshield. Up ahead there was a big highway sign, giving us the choice between 220 South or 55 North.
“Do you want to talk about my knowledge of automotive terms?” he said. “Or do you want to tell me which way we’re going?”
“North,” I said, feeling a little guilty for wanting to head to cooler climates. “Definitely north.” I waited for him to complain, say he wanted to head where it was hotter, but he didn’t. He just eased the car onto Interstate 55. I listened for sirens blaring behind us and didn’t hear anything. A sign by the road said it was 544 miles to Winona, Tennessee. I asked James, “How do you feel about driving straight through the night?”
“Works for me.”
“In that case, we don’t have to talk about a doggone thing, if you don’t want to.”
read the full version plus the other romance novel starring She-Hulk entitled "The She Hulk Diaries" HERE
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