Okay, I shouldn’t have laughed in his face. That was a little rude. The proposal took me by surprise, but I’m not one to break promises I made to myself. Our deal still remains.
If we come into contact at a later date, I’ll give him my number. If not, oh well.
I pass under a green sign. 405 Tacoma: Five miles. I’m so close, I can already feel the puppy’s fluff.
I turn on my blinker, but I see two glowing lights speeding toward me. Turning into the lane, I brace the wheel as a car jerks into the other lane. It’s speeding up, engine roaring. I watch its bright lights grow in intensity as it comes up to my side.
The windows have a dark tint, but I can make out two figures. One looks petite, womanly. The other looks like a man. The shadows adjust their heads to look at me. The woman waves.
It’s a Mercedes. Not just any Mercedes either. The license plate reads: “MRMNYBG.”
What is this? Some kind of joke? It’s the same guy from the gas station, and it looks like he wants to race me.
A memory juts through my mind, one that’s a little unsettling to recall. I hear the animal breeder’s voice come through my phone. “Businessman offered me double for her.”
Is this the same businessman he was talking about?
“Oh, you bastard.” I narrow my eyes and focus on the road. “You want a race? Fine. I’ll give you a race.”
I put the pedal to the metal, heels digging down deep. The tarmac rushes past us, each mile marker pushing us further into the distance. I’m steadily watching the speedometer rise to eighty-five. It hits ninety, and I start sweating. He’s got a german engine in that thing. I don’t know what I’m thinking, racing him in a Chevrolet.
With no traffic ahead, I’m feeling confident. I get the car to ninety-five, but it’s an old beast. This is the fastest speed I might be able to hit. To make matters worse, the engine is making a popping noise that sounds all too much like gunshots. That can’t be good...
A short plume of smoke rises from the hood, and the smell of burning comes inside from the vents. “Oh, crap.”
Without a moment to spare, the Mercedes shoots in front of me, the sound of its engine carrying him even faster toward the finish line. I watch as he rounds the corner with a slight skid.
My heart falters. All my excitement hangs in the past. I don’t doubt he’ll get the sale. Why not? He’s the best man.
He won.
Face hot with embarrassment and rage, I force my foot off the gas and allow it to roll pathetically toward the freeway exit. The engine gets me to the breeder’s house before sputtering out completely.
Just as I begin to step out of the loyal piece of junk, I see the man’s black suit enter the building. The door swings behind him, and every negative emotion drives through me. This is an all out war. I’m getting that dog, dammit!
After taking off my heels, I run and grab the door before it shuts. I bang it open with my elbows, and suddenly I’m flying inside to the sight of the man from the black Mercedes.
What. The. Hell.
“I’m here,” I yell as my face hits the floorboards. “Ouch.”
To my mortification, two men are staring at me. The breeder and the bastard. They’re not just staring. They’re exchanging money.
Cheeks glued to the floor, I sigh. “I’m here.”
The breeder raises a brow and scratches his cheeks. They jiggle like strawberry Jello under the red neon dog sign fixed on the window. A clock behind him ticks loudly. It’s been about forty-five minutes since my inquiring phone call. I know what he’s about to say.
“You’re a little late.”
Avoiding eye contact with the big-boss-bastard, I stand and brush myself off. Looking foolish is kind of my forte, something I’m used to, but today is for conquering my dreams. I bite the inside of my cheek and focus on the confidence I had earlier in the day.
I slam the money onto the table and balance my weight, huffing a few breaths. “I’ve got a thousand dollars.”
I follow the breeder’s eyes to the businessman’s smirk. It takes all of me not to scream.
“Looks like we put down the same amount,” the man says.
His grin is devilishly handsome, which is why I feel a deep need to best him. I reach into my purse and pull out another bill. “Eleven hundred.”
The businessman laughs softly. “Make it an even twelve.”
Heart racing, I search for more money. There’s another hundred in there, bringing the total to his. I grab my coin purse and drop a few silver dollars. “Um. Just one-second.”
He pulls out his metal showoff credit card, tapping it twice against the cash register for good measure. “Whatever she offers, I’ll pay double.”
I’m astounded. Never in my life have I been treated in such an embarrassing manner. “Oh, you are just rotten,” I mutter, slightly hoping he didn’t hear it through my long sigh.
He feigns surprise. “I’m just doing someone a favor. Don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who owes me something.”
“Owes you what?”
He shrugs. “I thought we had a deal. If we run into each other again, you’d give me your number.”
No fucking way. “On another day,” I growl. “This doesn’t count.”
His teeth are whiter than last winter’s snow. “Sure. Rewrite the rules when it suits you,” he says.
My face tightens. I’ve lost this fight, but I’m not going to leave without getting a word in. “Is this a game to you?”
“Excuse me?”
“A guy like you must’ve known where
