All of It (8 page)

He’s broken me again. If he could bottle this and sell it, whatever it is that so overpowers me, he would be a gazillionaire. I smile in defeat. He returns the smile.

“When are you going to change Jezebel’s oil, Ronnie?” my dad asks. “You ready now? I’ve got some time before the basketball game starts if you need help.”

“I need to pick up some oil first. Do you want to ride with me, Dimitri, or would you rather stay here? You two seem pretty cozy.” I smile mockingly at him.

He concedes with a smile. “I’ll go with you. I’ve taken too much of your dad’s time already this morning. I’m sure he has work to do.” He turns to my dad and extends his hand and chuckles, “It was so nice to … um … to meet you, Will. Thanks for being so welcoming and sharing your garage with me. It’s amazing, and the Spyder is incredible.”

My dad shakes his hand and pats his shoulder with the other. “I’m glad you stopped by, Dimitri. Let me know when you’re ready to get some paint on that Volkswagen, I’d love to help.”

I wait until we’re outside to start with the questions, but Dimitri beats me to it.

“Why don’t you let me drive?” he offers politely.

Drive. Wait a minute—the Porsche out front. I’d completely forgotten about it. Could it be his?

“That is
not
your car,” I say incredulously.

“That depends on which car you’re talking about,” he says quietly, a half-smile on his face.

We’re nearing the end of the driveway, just past the house and the street is in full view. “That car.” I point to the Porsche.

The smile turns up in both corners of his mouth now, “Oh yeah…
that
one’s mine.” I don’t know how he does it, but there is a surprise around every corner with this guy.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

The headlights flash as he clicks the remote on his keychain. “Afraid not, Miss Smith.” He opens the passenger door for me.

I’m still in shock as I slip into the charcoal leather seat. It smells so good, like his cologne. I inhale quickly a second time before he gets in to sit beside me.

“Where to, Ronnie?” he asks as the engine roars to life.

“There’s an auto parts store on the corner of Federal and 107th Street.” I answer and then go quiet. We drive a few blocks before I realize how shallow and judgmental I’ve been acting about this car. I’m certainly impressed, but how does a guy my age have a car like this? I can’t decide which direction my mind’s going with it. I decide it’s best for both us to drop it for now.

“So, what’s this about a Volkswagen?” I ask, remembering my dad’s comment in the garage.

“I’m restoring an old Volkswagen bug. I have everything finished except the paint. I was telling your dad about it and he offered to help.”

“A bug? Really? That’s actually pretty cool, you don’t see them around very often.”

My interest brings him relief and he opens up. “Yeah, I’ve always liked them. Maybe its nostalgia, I don’t know. Anyway, I bought this one for next to nothing two years ago, and have been working on it ever since. It was supposed to be my first car, but it’s taking a little longer than expected to put on the finishing touches—”

I interrupt, “Please tell me you’re not one of those horrid perfectionists who dwells on even the smallest of details, details your average novice, or better yet even an expert, would likely overlook?”

He smiles, nonchalant and unoffended. “Guilty as charged.”

I roll my eyes.

He smirks. “But I save it only for the important stuff.”

“Ah, selective perfectionism.” I shake my head emphatically. “Not horrid at all.”

“I like to think of myself as perpetually patient. Good things come to those who wait, et cetera, et cetera.”

“You may have a point; instant gratification is an ugly business.”

His tone serious now. “In which much of our world, or at least this country, overindulges. Greed is open for business … and business is booming.”

“Says the young man driving the Porsche,” I say under my breath, but he hears me and shrugs. “Surely you see the irony in it?”

He sighs. “It’s one of the reasons I’m so anxious to get the bug finished. Believe it or not, I favor inconspicuousity.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You don’t say?”

He shakes his head in mock dejection. “That’s not a word, is it?”

“Nope. But maybe it should be. It sounded very convincing.”

He smiles as though he’s been comforted, as though maybe we’ve just touched upon something very real. “You, Mr. Glenn, are a paradox.”

“Was that a compliment? My, but you’re in generous form today.”

Against my will, I blush crimson. “Shut up, or I may be forced to take it back.”

He smiles. “Fair enough, I graciously accept that I am indeed a paradox, in the most uncomplimentary way of course.” The smile fades. “Really, Ronnie, it boils down to preconceived notions. People tend to have them about people who drive cars like this. They’re very quick to judge—good or bad. You understand?”

Unfortunately I do, having been guilty of it myself within the last five minutes, however fleeting it may have been. I like to think of myself as open-minded, but occasionally I can be very judgmental. It’s a flaw of mine. I suddenly feel sorry for him and ashamed of myself. “That’s why you always ride to school with your brother?” I ask quietly.

“Yes. I’d prefer people to get to know
me
before they decide if they like me or not. The car I drive, or the house I live in—money in general—shouldn’t have any bearing on it, you know? I’m a very good judge of character and can tell almost instantly if someone is worth investing myself in, but a little insurance doesn’t hurt.” He’s staring out the windshield at the traffic light waiting for it to turn green.

“So, why do you drive it?” I ask hesitantly.

“It belonged to my dad.”

“Oh, did he get a new car or something? This is quite a hand-me-down.”

We pull into the parts store lot and park before he answers. He looks at me and his eyes are suddenly tired. “My dad died last year.”

My hand involuntarily flies to my mouth. “Oh my God, Dimitri.” That is the last thing I expected him to say. I had no idea.

He takes my hand gently from my mouth and holds it in both of his. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. My mom drove it until we moved here this summer, but Sebastian and I thought she would be better off this winter in a four-wheel drive. We talked her into a massive SUV.” A small smile flashes across his face as he thinks about it. “The thing is a tank, so at least we won’t have to worry about her on the road, though I fear for everyone else in her path.”

“That’s really sweet of you and your brother to worry about her like that.”

His smile grows. “You don’t know Sunny. You’ll understand what I mean when you get to know her. She takes a little looking after. Anyway, none of us had the heart to get rid of his car, so I ended up with it.” He pauses and a devilish grin emerges. “It’s fast as hell though and fun to drive. In fact, I just decided that you’re driving us home.”

My stomach flip-flops. “No, no, no … I am
not
driving this car.”

The devilish grin is still there. “We’ll see.” He’s out of the car before I can counter.

After I find the oil and pay for it Dimitri takes the bag in one hand and tosses me the keys with the other. “I said no, Dimitri. Are you nuts?”

“Maybe. I really don’t want to make a scene, Ronnie. And don’t underestimate me, I’ll do it.” His mocking smile turns into a flirtatious smirk. “Besides, I bet you’d look damn sexy driving it. Humor me.” He winks and runs the last few yards to the car and jumps in the passenger seat.

I stop at the rear of the car. “This is crazy. What if I wreck it?” I whisper to myself.

He opens the sunroof and yells, “Stop talking to yourself, Ronnie, people are going to think you’re crazy. Get in the car, baby.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I protest as I open the door and climb in. “Oh my God,” I think to myself, “Did he just call me baby? He did. He just called me baby!”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh come on. Don’t tell me this doesn’t excite you in the least?”

I can’t help smiling … a little. A crooked, terrified smile. But, buried deep beneath the paralyzing fear of driving this incredible car, I do feel excitement. Wild, deranged excitement. “Maybe a little,” I confess. “But I don’t want to hurt it.”

He laughs. “You haven’t seen me drive this thing, believe me, you won’t hurt it. I had her up to 150 miles an hour on the drive up from Texas.”

“That’s not what I meant; I don’t want to wreck it,” I say nervously.

He sighs deeply. “Have you ever wrecked a car, Veronica Smith?”

“No,” I say quietly.

“Exactly. You won’t today either,” he says reassuringly.

I look at the steering wheel and can feel the nervousness ebbing as I start the engine. “Buckle up then,” I command.

“Said like one compromised against her better judgment. Godspeed.”

“I’m doing this under duress. Just so you know.”

He’s stone faced. “Of course you are.”

I can’t hide the excitement any longer, but I add emphatically, “Duress.”

He nods and a faint smile bleeds through. “Duress. Now drive.”

At Dimitri’s urging, instead of driving straight home I drive toward the mountains. I weave up and down the winding highway for almost two hours. I can’t wipe the silly smile off my face. The car is amazing. I feel so free. I don’t think about anything but the speed, which far exceeds the posted limits, and the beautiful scenery—both outside
and
inside the car.

My smile is still spread from ear to ear as I pull his car up in front of my house. I kill the engine and sigh as I hand the keys to Dimitri, who’s beaming in the passenger seat.

He’s bright-eyed and staring.

I giggle. “What?”

“Duress seems to suite you. And I was right.”

“Right about what?”

“You looked
very
sexy driving this car.” The smile lights up his eyes.

I blush and look away, but he continues to stare. “Ronnie, will you do me a favor?”

I nod.

“Will you go out with me tonight? We can go to a movie, or just hang out, whatever you want. Though I do insist on buying you dinner, you haven’t eaten all day.”

I nod again.

“Under duress this time?”

I shake my head.

“That’s a relief. I’m not quite maniacal enough to bend a strong girl to my will to satisfy my
every
whim. Well, I’d love to stay and watch you work on your car. I could do with that sort of entertainment. You working on Jezebel would be very hot.” He sighs. “Perhaps next time, it looks like I have a date to plan. I’ll be back at 6:30 to pick you up. Will that give you enough time?” He looks as happy as I feel.

I’m still speechless, so I offer another nod. It’s embarrassing how lame I can be sometimes.

We both get out of the car and he hands me the oil, which I completely forgot about. He takes my free hand and kisses it. “Thank you for an unbelievable afternoon. I’ll be back soon.”

I can’t speak. My hand is tingling. I turn and walk slowly up the driveway. I know any moment I am going to wake up and the dream will be over. Someone pinch me already.

Reality sets back in when I walk in the door.

“Where have you been?” My mom’s voice isn’t mad, but there’s an edge to it.

“Sorry, Mom. Dimitri drove me to the store and then kind of insisted on
me
driving home.” I say sheepishly, waiting for the full wrath to come.

“It takes two hours to drive home? You could have called.” She hesitates. “Listen, I really like Dimitri—”

“That was obvious,” I interrupt, smiling at her.

“But … that doesn’t mean that all the rules get thrown out the window. All I’m asking for is a phone call to let us know that your plans changed.” She’s softening; I can see it in her eyes.

“I’m really sorry, mom. I know I should have called. I lost all track of time. It won’t happen again.” It doesn’t take much for my parents to coax a pathetic apology out of me. I hate apologies, but I hate disappointing them more, it makes me feel awful. Sometimes I wish they would just punish me like other parents.

“Good.” Her eyes are beginning to twinkle now. “So, he actually let you drive his car? What was it like? Where did you go?” A childish grin spreads across her face.

“It was amazing. I ended up driving up into the mountains; you wouldn’t believe how it handles.”

My mom leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re safe, honey. So, are you going to work on your car now?” My mom refuses to call her Jezebel.

“Yeah, I better get out there and get it done right away.” I can feel my cheeks warming. “I sort of have a date tonight that I need to get ready for.” I look at the floor. I’m sure my face is bright red now.

There’s a sly smile on my mom’s face. She’s staring at me and the silence is killing me. I’m embarrassed as it is and it feels like she’s holding a spotlight on me.

I try to read her face. “You like him, right Mom?”

Her expression gives her away. The smile on her face doesn’t falter as she nods. “Yes. I like Dimitri very much, Ronnie.” The words are soft and entirely genuine.

I smile too. “So do I.” I hug her and head out to the garage.

After I finish up I spend the next hour showering, scrubbing, moisturizing, and otherwise trying to beautify myself. I decide to leave me hair down and curl it. My thick, straight hair falls to the middle of my back, so working with the curling iron takes a while. I usually only do this for special occasions, and this definitely qualifies. Picking out an outfit is difficult because I have no idea where we’re going. I choose my floral skirt because it matches my emerald green blouse. The modestly low-cut neckline is trimmed with delicate beading and the color makes my hazel eyes appear greener than their normal golden brown. It’s my favorite piece of clothing and I always feel pretty when I wear it. Just as I put on my earrings I hear the doorbell ring. I freeze. My heart races. I slip on my sandals, grab my small purse, and take the stairs two at a time. I pause in the kitchen where I can hear my mom and Dimitri in the midst of comfortable conversation in the front room. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. My heart rate begins to settle. I walk slowly through the kitchen and turn the corner to the front room.