jump from the couch, grab my purse and tear across the living room, wrenching open the front door.
“ Frak !” he yells at me, as I leap onto the porch. “I think you’ve broken my nose!”
I look back to see bright red blood seeping through the gaps between his fingers. He stumbles from his position on the couch, unable to see where he’s going. His eyes are clenched shut against the onset of a bloody nose. “Help me out!” he demands, waving his arm wildly before him, searching for me.
I jump beyond his reach, stepping further onto the porch. “Keep away from me you, you toe-sucking freak!”
I sprint from the house and turn onto the sidewalk, running until I can no longer hear his moaning or the African cries of fertility. To use his word, Frak ! I just made a mad escape from the clutches of a toe-sucker!
Gravel digs into the soles of my feet. I look down and realize I’ve fled the house without remembering my shoes, which seems pretty dumb right now. Thank goodness I grabbed my purse. I dig into the bag for my cell phone and press Luanne’s name, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“ Hey y’all, it’s Luanne. I can’t answer your call right now so leave me a message. Have a blessed day! ”
Of course. Of course this is how my first rebound date would turn out. I have no shoes, I’ve just escaped a foot molestation, and I have no way to get home. I briefly consider calling Tim for a ride, but I’d rather walk the ten miles back home shoeless than give him the satisfaction of seeing me in this state. I dig around in my purse for the small bottle of mace I always carry and a business card flutters out of my bag and to the ground.
SJ Auto Body and Repair. Sam gave me the card when I went to pay for the repairs on Luanne’s truck. I can’t say why I’ve kept it, but seeing his scrawled cell number on the back of the card feels a little like fate. So my decision is to either call Sam James, the man I’ve been trying so unsuccessfully to avoid the past few weeks, or walk home with no shoes, through strange neighborhoods, and risk getting mugged or worse. It’s a pretty tough call.
I punch the numbers into my phone and pause just a moment before hitting Send . Half of me wants the call to go to voicemail and the other half just wants to hear his voice. It’s my other half that’s usually right.
“Hello?” Sam’s voice is deep and instantly sets me at ease.
“Hi, it’s Ellie.”
“Your hot date already over?” he asks, a smile in his voice.
“Well, that’s just the thing; I sort of need a ride home.” Ponytail or not, my left hand shoots straight up to full tuck-behind-the-ear mode.
“Well, that is disappointing. I thought Mr. Jude-Thomas and I had an understanding. If you need a ride home, I’m guessing he was using less than gentlemanly behavior?”
“Listen, I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I’m standing on a deserted street alone, and I’m a little freaked out. Can you please come pick me up?” Stay calm, girl. Don’t let him hear you cry.
Sam’s voice becomes more serious and after I give him my location, he reassures me he’ll be at my rescue inside of ten minutes. I wrap my arms around a well-lit street light and keep my mace at the ready. How is it possible that anyone can have this bad of luck when it comes to men? Welcome to my wall of shame, Ellery Jude-Thomas. You’ll go great between my high school boyfriend who turned out to be gay and my boss at the Red Robin who turned out to be married.
Chapter 7
True to his word, I hear the telltale roar of Sam’s motorcycle coming down the street just ten minutes after my call for help. He maneuvers the bike parallel to the curb and kills the engine. I release my hold on the street light and step gingerly toward him, careful not to tread on any sharp debris littering the sidewalk. I know I should be grateful, but when he pulls off his helmet and reveals a wide, dimpled smile, his eyes trained on my shoeless
“ Frak !” he yells at me, as I leap onto the porch. “I think you’ve broken my nose!”
I look back to see bright red blood seeping through the gaps between his fingers. He stumbles from his position on the couch, unable to see where he’s going. His eyes are clenched shut against the onset of a bloody nose. “Help me out!” he demands, waving his arm wildly before him, searching for me.
I jump beyond his reach, stepping further onto the porch. “Keep away from me you, you toe-sucking freak!”
I sprint from the house and turn onto the sidewalk, running until I can no longer hear his moaning or the African cries of fertility. To use his word, Frak ! I just made a mad escape from the clutches of a toe-sucker!
Gravel digs into the soles of my feet. I look down and realize I’ve fled the house without remembering my shoes, which seems pretty dumb right now. Thank goodness I grabbed my purse. I dig into the bag for my cell phone and press Luanne’s name, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“ Hey y’all, it’s Luanne. I can’t answer your call right now so leave me a message. Have a blessed day! ”
Of course. Of course this is how my first rebound date would turn out. I have no shoes, I’ve just escaped a foot molestation, and I have no way to get home. I briefly consider calling Tim for a ride, but I’d rather walk the ten miles back home shoeless than give him the satisfaction of seeing me in this state. I dig around in my purse for the small bottle of mace I always carry and a business card flutters out of my bag and to the ground.
SJ Auto Body and Repair. Sam gave me the card when I went to pay for the repairs on Luanne’s truck. I can’t say why I’ve kept it, but seeing his scrawled cell number on the back of the card feels a little like fate. So my decision is to either call Sam James, the man I’ve been trying so unsuccessfully to avoid the past few weeks, or walk home with no shoes, through strange neighborhoods, and risk getting mugged or worse. It’s a pretty tough call.
I punch the numbers into my phone and pause just a moment before hitting Send . Half of me wants the call to go to voicemail and the other half just wants to hear his voice. It’s my other half that’s usually right.
“Hello?” Sam’s voice is deep and instantly sets me at ease.
“Hi, it’s Ellie.”
“Your hot date already over?” he asks, a smile in his voice.
“Well, that’s just the thing; I sort of need a ride home.” Ponytail or not, my left hand shoots straight up to full tuck-behind-the-ear mode.
“Well, that is disappointing. I thought Mr. Jude-Thomas and I had an understanding. If you need a ride home, I’m guessing he was using less than gentlemanly behavior?”
“Listen, I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I’m standing on a deserted street alone, and I’m a little freaked out. Can you please come pick me up?” Stay calm, girl. Don’t let him hear you cry.
Sam’s voice becomes more serious and after I give him my location, he reassures me he’ll be at my rescue inside of ten minutes. I wrap my arms around a well-lit street light and keep my mace at the ready. How is it possible that anyone can have this bad of luck when it comes to men? Welcome to my wall of shame, Ellery Jude-Thomas. You’ll go great between my high school boyfriend who turned out to be gay and my boss at the Red Robin who turned out to be married.
Chapter 7
True to his word, I hear the telltale roar of Sam’s motorcycle coming down the street just ten minutes after my call for help. He maneuvers the bike parallel to the curb and kills the engine. I release my hold on the street light and step gingerly toward him, careful not to tread on any sharp debris littering the sidewalk. I know I should be grateful, but when he pulls off his helmet and reveals a wide, dimpled smile, his eyes trained on my shoeless
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