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“I booked Mexican, I know you like that,” I said, putting the car into gear.
“Lovely.”
Debbie flashed me a smile, but it wasn’t her face splitting, ear to ear one she usually gave me.
“So, what you been up to?” I asked. “How’s your mom doing?”
I thought if I bombarded her with questions it might steal away the uneasy atmosphere in the car. Debbie told me all her news and that her mom was suffering with a cold, and slowly, we fell back into our usual, easy friendship.
“How’s business doing?” she asked, swivelling in her seat.
“It’s good. Nate is getting real busy. I’m glad I decided to take him on.”
Nate, my piercer, was a fairly new member of the team, but he’d more than paid his worth in his first three months working for me. It seemed piercings went alongside tattoos these days – folks got one, they tended to get the other too.
“You had any piercings, since we last met up?” Debbie asked, with a tinkling laugh.
I shook my head. “Nope, and despite Nate getting on my back all the time, he’s not touching my fucking junk.”
I cringed at the thought of it. I had two sleeves and most of my torso was tatted, but having some bar pushed through my bell end was not going to happen. Maybe if I’d been twenty years younger, I’d have been up for it – the confidence of youth and all that, but at forty-six I was happy with what I had down there. I hadn’t had any complaints since I’d started getting it wet at the age of sixteen, so it could stay unadorned.
“Not even a little ring here?” Debbie reached forward and tweaked my nipple through my navy dress shirt. “Something I can tug on.”
I flashed her a grin. “Nope darlin’, it ain’t happening.”
We fell into silence again, but this time it was more comfortable, with Debbie humming along to the radio and me tapping the steering wheel in time to the music. We were almost at the restaurant when traffic started to slow.
“It’s busy for a Saturday night,” Debbie said.
“Yeah.” I craned up, trying to see what the problem was. “More likely someone’s probably had a fender bash.”
We’d been sitting for a couple of minutes with the traffic not moving, when the honking of the horns started. Some dick heads even leaving their hand on theirs for longer than a quick couple of toots.
“Fuck this,” I groaned, undoing my belt. “I’m going to go check it out. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Okay, but if it’s someone with road rage, leave them to it,” Debbie said, her voice full of concern.
“I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
I got out, pushed my door closed and started to walk up the road alongside the four or so cars in front of me, and immediately saw bright orange lights flashing away. Someone had broken down and by the looks of it, no one was trying to help them.
“Miserable fuckers,” I moaned, looking into one car to see a young guy about to blast his horn. I banged on the window.
“What?” he asked, after winding it down.
“You think you could give the horn a rest. Someone’s obviously broken down, you blasting that ain’t going to move things along any quicker.”
He curled his lip and scoffed. “I have to be somewhere.”
“Don’t we all, and I’m guessing the poor fucker who’s broken down does too, so cut them some slack.”
Without waiting to hear what he had to say, I carried on walking until I came to a car that although clean and had a decent paint job, was obviously pretty old according to its plate and shape. Inside someone was turning the engine over, but all it was doing was wheezing out a cough and refusing to get going.
I was about to knock on the driver’s window, when I saw it was open. Stooping down I looked inside.
“You need some help?”
It was at the moment a blonde head turned and looked at me with pleading, pale blue eyes, that those crazy butterflies decided to make an appearance.
