Free The Everlasting Chapel by Marilyn Cruise Page B

blue Audi in the parking garage. It’s so clean and
shiny, I wonder if he just bought it. He’s going to let me drive
this? I mean, I’m a pretty good driver. I haven’t had an accident
since I backed into the principal’s car at the beginning of my
senior year in high school. That was embarrassing, and everyone at
school teased me about it the rest of the year. But Spencer’s
really putting a lot of trust in me. It’s sweet. What does a car
like this cost? A hundred grand? Well, I suppose once the check
clears, if I wreck his car, buying him a new one won’t be an
issue.
    I hop into the car, and start the engine.
When I press on the gas pedal, it purrs like a kitten. Driving out
of the parking garage, I hardly feel the bumps in the road, and the
vehicle handles tight and shoots forward with the slightest push of
the gas pedal.
    When I finally get out onto the streets,
though, I find that traffic is horrible. Then I remember—there’s a
huge concert today at the Portland Expo Center. To avoid the
congestion, I decide to take a shortcut through one of the
not-so-well-known, wooded backstreets.
    About halfway home, however, I drive over
something, and immediately after, the car starts wobbling
uncontrollably. Feeling anxious that I might have destroyed
Spencer’s perfect car, I pull over to the side of the road and get
out. Dammit! I knew it was too good to be true.
    Skirting around the car, I see that one of
the tires has a flat. Crap! What do I do now? I don’t have any type
of insurance at the moment. Spencer is at the hospital, and
unavailable. Anne is probably in the middle of a church
service.
    I consider my options. I could try changing
the tire myself. Well, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m wearing
wedges and a can-hardly-breathe-it’s-so-damn-tight miniskirt. I can
just imagine how uncomfortable it would be, not to mention cold,
squatting, hoisting the car up, getting the flat tire off, putting
the new one on… I’ve changed a tire before, but that was with my
father’s help and I was wearing pants, and it was in
the summertime.
    I wrap my arms across my chest and shiver.
It can’t be more than twenty degrees out right now, and I’ll freeze
to death before I even manage to locate the car jack.
    I’ll see if Vivian can come help me. I call
her number, but no one answers.
    Shoot! I try not thinking about calling
Michael. Not only will he be very suspicious that I am driving this
car, he’ll also notice that I’m wearing the same outfit I wore last
night. It’s hardly something I want to start explaining to him.
Besides, I know the second I tell him or just as soon as he finds
out that I slept with Spencer, the guilt will start to surface. No!
I refuse to feel guilty about having a great time!
    I go through my list of options again, but
it’s useless. There is no one else—unless I call 911. They probably
don’t consider a flat tire an emergency. If it weren’t for the
wedges and my miniskirt, I’d walk home. It might take me three or
four hours to get there, but it would be worth it to not stir the
pot with Michael.
    Reluctantly, I dial Michael’s number. He
picks up after two rings.
    “Hello,” he says.
    Oh, dear. It is way too good to hear his
voice again. But then I remind myself how he was a prick last night
and what a great time I had with Spencer.
    “Hi…um…I was calling you because…I kind of
need your help.” Why is this so difficult? Because you’re eating
crow! my alter-ego yells at me.
    “Are you okay?” His voice is slightly
alarmed.
    “Oh, yes, sorry. Everything’s fine, I just…I
have a…do you know how to change a flat tire?” I say, kicking the
darn thing. Aren’t Audi’s supposed to be indestructible?
    “Oh, okay. Well just tell me where you are,
and I’ll be right there,” he says.
    Really? Just like that? For a second, I’m
speechless. Oh, yeah. I should be open with him before he arrives.
“Just before you come…I wanted to let you know I’m