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He pushed a button on his shoulder radio and spoke. The cop behind him, who was directing traffic in the left lane nodded and then put his hands up.
One more car pulled forward, showing their golden ticket—er, prepaid pass—to the attendant, which left a gap to my left.
Officer Grumpyface motioned for me to pull on to the road. Which I did. But I had to pull an Austin Powers and do a four-point turnaround.
I sighed. Loudly. Again, nobody could hear me, so I prattled on. “Ooooo, Jesus take the wheel, here we go…because why couldn’t the sign be back there like a mile or so when I could have had plenty of time to plan on somewhere else to park…parking downtown…is…stupid.” I harumphed in protest.
For most, the hardest part about driving was parallel parking. But for me? It was the three-or-more point turnarounds. I was just terrible at gauging the distance between bumpers and where it would take a normal driver less than thirty seconds to complete the maneuver, I clocked in at around a minute and fifty seconds. (It was one of my better times, actually.)
Frustrated and hating the several judgmental eyes upon me, I heard the officer dole out a fleeting passive comment about being more aware of my surroundings or some such absurdness. Iwasaware of my surroundings, thank you very much.
So much so that my eyes bugged out of my head; currently, there were a shit ton of people packed on to the sidewalks and a line that doubled back at least four times to the entrance.
What the actual hell? Not only did I have to find parking that was suitable for a non-VIP like me, but then I had to stand in that line?
E was going to owe me. Big time.
Chapter 2
Lucy
San Diego
As it turnedout, across the street from where I performed my turn around routine like a bad walk of shame, there was a parking structure that was even larger than the underground one I had originally—and naively—sought. With Barry snugly parked next to a stylish Jaguar, I grabbed my handbag and took the elevator down to the street level.
One obstacle down, an undetermined amount yet to come.
People were everywhere. And they were all wearing costumes. Looking to the couple on my left and then the family on my right, I was astounded at not only their outfits, but how detailed they were. Again, I knew nothing about these fandoms, but it looked like they had dropped some serious money to look the part.
My toes were lined up with the edge of the curb, ready to cross the street when our turn came. A passing car slowed and came to a stop behind another. The driver rolled his window down and whistled at me.
In any other situation I would’ve been eager to tell him what I thought of his disrespectful catcall, but I was too distracted by his garb.
He wore a metallic mask that came down half his face; it was like the tin foil version of the Phantom of the Opera but creepier. A dark hooded cape covered the rest of his appearance, giving him a mysterious and foreboding look.
Leaning the crook of his elbow out the window, he looked me up and down before saying rather ominously, “I’d like to take you to my black hole.”
…the fuck…?
Clearly, I was not in the loop as to what the hell he was talking about because the crowd of nerd-goers around me collectively whooped and hollered, waiting for a comeback from me. And damned if I didn’t have one. What do you say to something likethat?
He could be a perfectly nice man for all I knew. Or he could be the next Armie Hammer and want to gnaw on my ribs. A girl could never be too safe.
So, I said the first insult that came to mind, granted, it wasn’t my best work. “Well, I’d like to take you on a long walk down a short pier, but I don’t think you have time,” I responded.
The dude opened his mouth to reply, but the car in front of him had moved enough, causing the driver behind to honk him into gear.
Someone in the crowd bumped into me. I turned to apologize when she quipped, “Well played, girl.”
“Thanks…?” I managed.
Just then, the crosswalk flashed and we all began to move like one giant herd of cattle, the frontrunners racing towards the lines.Slow your role, peeps…the line isn’t going anywhere.
Seizing the opportunity, I asked my new lady friend if she knew where the will call area was.
“I haven’t used it in years, but I do know that it’s off to the right over there,” she pointed.
Well, that was super helpful! “Thanks so much!” I called, making my way around the crowd.
