Page 8 of The Man I Hate

I glanced in her direction. “I didn’t know people in Oklahoma drove exotics.”

“We drive the same cars you drive we just do it with smiles on our faces,” she said in a snide tone.

“I was joking.”

She shot me a playful glare. “I wasn’t.”

I chuckled. “Not caring for California?”

“Are you aware of my parents?” she asked. “What happened to them?”

Initially, I believed Anna was a realtor planning to sell the home. Upon seeing the out of state plates on her car, I realized she was the child of my two deceased neighbors.

Her parents moved from Oklahoma to Los Angeles, hoping to retire in a location JoAnn described as paradise. After unpacking the last box from their move, she and her husband Randy traded in his restored vintage Suburban for a new Toyota 4Runner.

They intended to use the new SUV exploring the state, visiting Joshua Tree National Monument and the Mojave Desert at their earliest convenience.

On the night they obtained the vehicle, their new purchase was celebrated with dinner out on the town. Upon returning, Randy parked the Toyota and walked away, not realizing the new keyless SUV was still running.

With the key fob in his pocket, he and JoAnn retired to their bedroom, fell asleep, and never awoke. Carbon monoxide from the vehicle’s exhaust suffocated them while they slept at each other’s side.

“I am,” I said, glancing in her direction. “It was tragic. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” She shifted her gaze to the side window. “I came here not knowing whether I was going to sell their home or not. I decided I’d make the decision after I got here and looked everything over. After being here for a while, it’s obvious this place isn’t for me. People are in too big of a hurry and everyone’s an asshole.” She looked at me. “Except for you.”

“It’s a different lifestyle, that’s for sure,” I admitted. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m an asshole on the inside.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you take away the suit, the car, and shitty little grin, what you’re left with is me.” I looked at her and laughed. “I’m a prick.”

“I don’t think you’re a prick.” She gave me an admiring look. “You saved me from that stinky asshole who was trying to steal my car. A prick wouldn’t have done that.”

I’d intervened because it was the right thing to do. It didn’t dismiss the fact that the entire time I was zip-tying the asshole and throwing him in the trunk of her car that I hoped she’d find my actions heroic enough to offer me gratuitous sex in exchange for saving her.

“It was second nature,” I argued.

“Your Marine training?”

“I suppose.”

“Well, not everyone would have done what you did.” She reached for her purse. “Because of that, I say you’re not an asshole.”

I was, but there was no sense in arguing with her. If she was leaving in six days, she wouldn’t have time to find out on her own. I’d let her continue to believe what made her happy.

I offered her an appreciative grin. “Thank you.”

In the midst of adjusting her makeup, she checked her reflection in her compact and then smiled in return. “You’re welcome.”

I exited the freeway and came to a stop at the traffic light. “The restaurant is right up the street.”

“Good,” she said, shifting her gaze to the side window. “I’m starving.”

I stole a glance at the side of her ass. “Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”

Anna

People like Braxton didn’t exist in Oklahoma. Completely astonished by what I’d learned, I gazed at him with admiring eyes. Soon, I became lost in the heady scent of his cologne. Half a dozen scenarios came to mind, each of which ended with him being naked and me being happy.