[chapter thirteen]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of
them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please.
;-)
**
Kick glanced over at the speedometer in Jimmie's car and rolled her eyes slightly.
"You know, for someone who drives cars really fast for a living, you're
driving like a grandma."
Jimmie rolled his own eyes slightly. "I thought it might be wise to follow the speed limit." Kick noted that he was going exactly 30 in a 30 mile an hour zone, but decided not to pursue the line of questioning. She just wanted to get home and go to bed and sleep off the alcohol in her system. Even if it would take twice as long to get there with Jimmie behind the wheel. "So…didn't work out with you and Junior?" Jimmie asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Kick sighed a little and leaned her head back against the seat. "No. It didn't."
"Thank god." Jimmie said aloud and Kick glanced at him angrily.
"You know, I don't know why you hate him so much." Kick said quickly. "Not after you haven't exactly been an angel."
"What do you mean?" Jimmie asked, glaring at her, his face a mask of confusion.
Kick shook her head and thought for a moment. "You know what, let's just drop it. Junior and I are over. End of story. Turn here." She said, pointing left at the four way stop they had just pulled up to.
"Fine."
"Fine." Kick echoed and sat silently for a few moments before finding herself unable to stop talking. "You know, you seem like a nice guy."
"I am nice."
"Uh-huh. So everyone says. Chad sings your praises all the time, all the crew guys, the officials, the other drivers…they all love you. So how can someone who's so nice and sweet and lovely be such a jerk sometimes?" Kick asked, truly wanting to understand.
"I…I'm not…" Jimmie tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to bring his swirling emotions under control. "I'm not a jerk, and I've never done anything."
"Uh-huh." Kick said again and Jimmie sighed heavily, pulling up into the parking lot of her tiny apartment complex.
"Look…" Jimmie said, shutting off the engine and turning to her. "I'm not evil. And you seem like a nice person, so believe me when I tell you, you are better off without Junior in your life. Trust me on this."
"Why should I trust you?" Kick asked. "Why do you dislike me so much?"
"What do you mean?" Jimmie asked, surprised.
"I mean, you go out of your way to be nice to everyone else, but with me, it's like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute you're cold and mean, the next you're bounding around getting me to keep you company and plying me with Fresca. The next, you're a dickhead to me. What gives? Why do you hate me so much?" Kick found herself begging.
"I don't hate you."
"Uh-huh."
"I don't hate you at all." Jimmie repeated, sounding to her muddled ears to be rather sincere.
"Well, you aren't exactly candy and flowers when I'm around." Kick muttered.
"You want candy and flowers?" Jimmie asked.
"No, but a little decorum would go a long way." Kick said. "Wow, even after that many beers I can still use decorum in a sentence." She added, sounded surprised at herself.
Jimmie tried not to smile at her aside. "I like you." He said instead, his eyes holding hers. "I do." He whispered after a very long pause.
Kick watched him for several more moments, trying to ignore the sincerity and pleading in his eyes. She knew his gig - she knew what he had done. And she refused to be taken in by this obviously slick ploy of being charming and nice.
"Thanks for the ride." She said, fumbling with the doorhandle.
Jimmie lay his hand on her arm gently as she turned to get out. "I do." He repeated softly.
"Good night, Jimmie."