Love to Tempt You (Wild to Love #4) - J. Saman Page 0,3
twenty in cash and another one hundred plus that in tips I’ll collect on payday next week since it was done through a credit card.
I smile a little to myself, doing some quick mental math. “Getting there,” I whisper, tucking the money into my purse and driving out of the back lot of Lavender Bar and Grille.
It’s well past midnight, but in this part of town, that hardly matters on a Friday night. The street and sidewalks are littered with expensive cars and beautiful people. Sitting at a red light, I turn on my ancient radio, dialing up the sound on the song that comes on because it’s one of my favorites from Wild Minds’ new album.
Belting out the lyrics at the top of my lungs, I unabashedly people watch, rocking out and bopping along to the heavy drumbeat. A man in a red Ferrari convertible pulls up beside me, eyeing my car and the fact that I’m blatantly singing and dancing with harsh disdain.
It makes me laugh.
People in this city have no chill in them. Always too concerned with their outward appearance to let loose. Then I laugh a little harder.
When the hell have I ever let loose?
The light turns green and I toss him a wink and a wave, driving through and not sparing him another thought. It doesn’t take me more than a few minutes until I’m past the lights and glitz of Hollywood, heading deeper into Los Angeles.
A yawn slips past my lips and I slide the shoe off my aching left foot. I’m exhausted. My job at Lavender is not my only one. I work Monday through Friday as an administrative assistant for a large law firm. Well, I’m actually just a temp through an agency, but I’ve been there a little more than two months now.
But tomorrow I can sleep in a bit, working a double on Saturdays at Lavender, but not having to arrive until eleven am. Sunday is my one and only day off, and I can’t help myself from counting down the hours until the end of my shift tomorrow night.
Pulling up to another red, I search around, not seeing anyone coming, and start to turn right, more than anxious to get home and into bed.
The sudden blaring of a horn startles me to the point where I jump in my seat, both my hands now clutching the wheel.
But it’s too late.
I turn my head just in time to catch a truck aiming straight for me, futility attempting to swerve at the last second. “Holy shit, I’m gonna die.”
My eyes shutter closed and my breath stalls, my body growing rigid as it anticipates the impact I know is imminent. Half a second later, the sickening crunch of metal on metal and the shattering of glass rips through the air. My car spins and my body is thrown, the ancient seat belt doing nothing to hold me securely in place.
Sprays of glass fly every which way as the car continues its trajectory.
My head collides with the driver’s side window, which is mercifully still intact. Unfortunately, that hit is quickly followed by my left forearm smashing into the steering wheel, the full force of my body weight going along with it, and I feel an agonizing snap.
My stomach rolls as a howling scream tears from my lips. My right hand comes up instinctively to cradle it, tears burning my eyes and falling helplessly down my cheeks, mixing with something warm and sticky that can only be blood.
Finally, the car stops moving, the front tires smashing against the curb. A few errant hisses and pops break out into the night only to die just as quickly, leaving me suffused in an eerie silence.
I’m half on my right side, pressed against the plastic center console and emergency brake. My seat belt is cinched across my chest and I can already feel the burn from it. A pain that’s almost insignificant compared to my arm that doesn’t take a doctor to know it’s broken.
Righting my body, I cradle my arm closer to my chest, whimpering and wincing and tensing with every move I make. Without thinking, I unclick my seat belt, anxious to get it off me. The click is so loud I wince again while staring bewilderedly out my front windshield.
“I’m facing the wrong way.” I shake my head at that. My phone. I need my phone. I need to call… someone.