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“Then why are you wearing a suit?”
“I went into the office before I picked you up.”
“Oh.”
I yank my tie off and coil it around my fist before stuffing it into my pocket. Then I undo the top two buttons of my shirt and roll my sleeves up my forearms. “Happy now, Miss Tour guide? Do I look more like aguy who likes sitting on grimy buses and taking photos of shit?”
Ava ruffles my hair. “You do now.”
She smirks and leans into my side, snapping a selfie of the two of us.
“I need proof that you can loosen up. Otherwise, Margaret won’t believe me.”
She checks her phone screen and giggles, then holds it up to show me. My head is turned toward her, eyes fixed on her face as she looks into the camera with a smile as bright as the fucking sun.
“You actually enjoy this, don’t you?”
“What’s not to enjoy?” She snaps another picture of the street below.
I look around the top level of the bus. It’s a mix of families and couples who look like they’re on vacation. Everyone’s taking photos like Ava.
The tour guide’s cheerful voice booms through the speakers. “Well, don’t we have a treat for you all! We’re just about to pass the entrance to award-winning actor, Jay Anderson’s house.”
An excited hum rumbles through the top deck, and a woman cries, “Lord have mercy, that man is fine.”
“If we’re super lucky, we might get a glimpse of the property through the security gate,” the tour guide adds.
“Amazing!” Ava propels to her feet and leans over the rail, craning her neck to see down the street. “Did you hear that?”
I whip my jacket off the seat and grab her by the elbow.
“What are you doing?” she squeals.
“We’re getting off.”
I slam my palm over the emergency stop button and the bus jerks to a stop moments later. There’s a collective gasp from the other passengers as I turn to Ava, who’s still gripping the handrail.
“Off. Now,” I grit.
She glances around, her cheeks flushing as everyone stares at us.
“Jet,” she whispers. “You can’t just get off where you want. This isn’t one of the stops.”
I hold her eyes, sucking in an agitated breath. “I said off, Ava… Now.”
Her forehead creases, but she makes no attempt to move.
“Hold this.” I tut, handing her my jacket.
She lets go of the rail to take it, and I seize my opportunity, hoisting her up over my shoulder.
“What the hell?” she gasps. “You’re crazy.”
“What’s crazy is you spent a hundred bucks on something I can do better myself. Now be a good girl and stop squirming.”
I plant one hand over her ass, holding her dress down so it covers her, and keep the other wrapped around the backs of her thighs as I stride along the aisle and carry her down the stairs.
“Sir, you can’t get off here,” the tour guide says as I get to the front of the bus.
