Let Your Heart Drive Read Free Page B

truck with your new car on it was involved in an accident.”
    “Oh no, was anyone hurt? I would feel so bad if someone was hurt bringing me a car.”
    “No one was hurt, but the tow truck won’t run and they had to send one tow truck for the wrecked one and another truck to get your new car. All of this has taken so long that your new car won’t be there till about eight in the morning.”
    “I see, you know I had my heart set on checking out of this swanky hotel in the middle of my favorite movie and drive all night just for the fun of it.  Now, I guess I will have to keep watching my movie.” I let out a fake overdramatic sigh and flop back on the bed just as dramatically.
    “Your new car will be there in the morning. They will call you when they arrive and then you can simply swap keys with the tow company.  Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?” his voice softens as he says the word tonight .
    “I guess you won’t be working in the morning?” I ask openly.
    “No, my shift doesn’t start until three tomorrow.” I’m kind of thankful that he’ll be working tomorrow. I wish I could get Trey to talk to me like a person, a real relaxed person and not on this recorded line. I’ll have to work on that, in fact, I sit up in bed. “Hey, can you text me the phone number to this tow company?”
    “Um, let me see. I think I can. Let me see what I can do, okay?” he says with humor rolling in that deep throaty voice of his.
    “Good, work on that will you? Hey, I gotta go, one of my favorite scenes is coming up.”
    “What’s that?” he asks with a loose, curious nature to his voice.
    The part is already playing where Bogart slams his fist down on the bar and I repeat it as it carries out of the TV, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she has to walk into mine.”

Chapter 3
     
    “You know what I do?
    I steal things. Fuck ‘em.I grab a hand full of candy bars
    and six magazines and head for the gate.”
    —George Carlin
     
     
    My dreams are always so vivid even in black and white. I’m standing on a dark and dreary runway as the rain hangs in the air. I’m dolled up in some fashionable forties clothing, even wearing Ingrid Bergman’s classic hat. Humphrey Bogart stands in front of me. His tall demeanor and captivating eyes gaze at me as he begins telling me I’m getting on that plane with Laszlo. I plead with him to stay, feeling the desperation Ilsa felt as she knows how much she loves Rick. It’s not Humphrey’s voice though, it’s Trey’s.
    The deep and throaty voice of Trey says, “We’ll always have Paris…” Tears swell in my eyes and I don’t feel anywhere remotely beautiful as Ingrid did when she played this scene. He tips my chin up with an affectionate tender touch, our eyes collide as he rumbles out, “Here’s looking at you kid.”
    The upbeat remix song of Route 66 by Depeche Mode belts out of my cell phone and I take my time answering it. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and shake the residues of my dream away, I yawn gripping the phone. It’s six in the morning, the TV has automatically turned itself off and the prompt morning light glows at the edge of the hotel’s curtains. I wait for her to leave a message, count a few more minutes before I return her call.
    She’s pissed, I know it and I know it will do her some good to vent and nag, but I’m not in the mood to hear it just yet. I get up, drag myself to the bathroom, brush my teeth slowly and pull my hair back and press two. Speed dialing her I bite the inside of my lip waiting for Chelsea to answer. 
    “Sinead?”
    “Yes?”
    “Where are you?”
    “In the bathroom. Where are you?”
    “Do you know how upset Dad is? I spent two hours on the phone with him last night.”
    “Dad was fine when I texted him last night, Chelsea. Are you stirring him up again because you don’t approve of what I’m doing?”
    “No, damn it, Sinead, you know I support you, but you never told