English Accent

Sabbra Cadabra

Too caught up in our heated discussion, none of us thought about calling the cops. Someone else must have, though, because no sooner than Sierra and the guy disappeared from my view, I heard the signal of sirens.

I had to go through the mass of ritual questions and reply to every single one of them.

No, I am not drunk. No, I haven't taken any drugs. Yes, this is my first car crash. No, I'm not in shock.

The trouble started the moment they realized there was no victim. I mean, the front of my car was totally crushed, and yet they couldn't find any source of the damage. Explaining to them that the other car's driver has just gone somewhere and was going to come back in a while was quite hard. I'm sure that after I was done, the two officers thought I was quite crazy. And hell if I haven't heard them considering putting me in arrest until the guy comes back.

The fact that it hasn't occurred to me to ask him for his name didn't help. When I told them I had really no idea what the guy name was, they looked like they weren't sure if they should laugh or cry. But what can I say? I could never be considered a responsible person. The fact that I've just let my best friend go somewhere with a stranger was the perfect proof of that fact.

Fortunately, about half an hour later the black SUV approached us. I was standing next to the police car when he stopped next to it. I bombarded him with questions the second he stepped out of the car, but he ignored half of them and for the rest he responded in monosyllables. In the end, by the time the cops snatched him away from my assault, I only knew that he had driven her to the airport in time and that he hadn't killed her. But who knows? He didn't look like a trustworthy type of a guy.

I was just dialling Sierra's number to ask her about details but was stopped by one of the officers calling for me.

"Miss Hindley? Could you come here for a moment?"

Smart. Could I come for a moment? Sounded like an offer but hell if I said no.

"Of course."

I slid my phone back into my pocket and approached the two cops and the guy.

"Do you agree that the crash occurred due to your fault?" one of them, whose name I think was Officer Largent, asked.

"Ye... Yeah." I said, a little flustered.

What the hell had the guy said to them? Were they going to punish me now somehow?

God, I was a shitty citizen. I didn't even know the consequences of a car crash.

The man nodded and scribbled something down in his notes. I swallowed nervously. What was about to happen?

"Do you have an insurance?" the other one asked.

"I do."

At least I hoped so.

He nodded.

"Good. It should cover the costs of the repair."

It better does. I was kind of broke. Couldn't find a better time to blow my car.

"All right, I believe that's all." officer Largent closed his notebook. "We have to leave now. But we'd advise you to call a gun carriage, miss."

Right. My car was destroyed. Someone should take it... somewhere.

Where was God and his miracles when I needed them?

I said goodbye to the officers and pulled out my phone. Just when I was about to type in the number, my finger paused over the keyboard.

"Um..." I bit my lip. "Do you know the number for some good gun carriage?"

The guy, whose name I've learned was Dominic, looked down at me.

"A good gun carriage?" one corner of his lips crept higher.

"Uh... Yeah. Some... good gun carriage." man, I sounded lame. "Or just any gun carriage at all. I don't care."

His lips twitched.

"Tell me, is it your first time having an accident?" he asked conversationally.

Well, I have just gotten my driving license, so I didn't have much time to have one.

I nodded. Dominic continued looking at me, but he didn't say anything. Irritation rose in me. Now he was going to ignore me?

"Do you know or do you not?" I asked.

He smiled slightly.

"It's been already taken care of, Sweetie."

Sweetie? What the hell?

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Your friend made a call during the ride to the airport."

God bless Sierra. At least one of us wasn't a shitty best friend.

"And it still hasn't arrived? " my voice was filled with scepticism.

He shrugged.

"They tend to do that."

I nodded, tensing. How much time was I going to have to spend here before I could go home?

And how would I go to said home, if I didn't have a car?

"Don't sweat it so much, Sweetie." the guy's voice distracted me from my thoughts. "It's just an accident."

"Could you stop calling me that?" I snapped.

His brows pulled together.

"What?"

"Sweetie."

He laughed.

"Well, I don't have many options left, since you haven't told me your name."

Was he for real right now?

"You know my name." I told him. "It's been written in the documents."

"I haven't peeked." he shrugged. "So?"

I looked at him.

"So what?"

"Soo, are you going to tell me your name?"

I sighed.

"Abi." I murmured.

He grinned.

"Nice to meet you, Abi. I guess so."

He glanced at his car. I rolled my eyes.

"It's going to be fine. The insurance will cover the costs of repair, and if not..." I paused. "If not, then I'm going to pay for it."

The second part was spoken much quieter. I had no idea where I would find the money to pay for that.

"By the way, I've been dying to know." he changed the topic suddenly.

Oh, Lord....

"What is that strange accent you have going on?"

Strange? Well, now that was just mean.

"I'm British." I replied curtly, refusing to look at him. "I think that's what you meant."

"British." he repeated, as if to himself. "Scottish?"

I fought hard not to roll my eyes.

"English." I said. "Listen, are you sure Sierra had called the gun carriage?"

"I think so. I don't speak Spanish, though."

I stiffened.

"What?" my head snapped in his direction.

"She was talking in Spanish. I'm not entirely sure what she said."

My eyes widened.

"Then why the hell have you told me she had called the damn gun carriage?" I shrieked.

"Because I thought so."

I glared at him.

"In Spanish. You really believed that Sierra called the gun carriage and talked to them in Spanish."

He shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Because we're in the freaking US, dumbass! That's why!" I exploded.

He put his hands up in a defeat motion.

"Hey. I didn't know if she spoke English. I've only heard her talk in Spanish."

Dear Mary and all the saints in Heaven...

"She does speak English, idiot."

"Well, then I'm sorry."

He didn't sound sorry at all. Suddenly, a thought appeared in my head. I turned my head to look at him, my eyes narrowed.

"Is it your revenge for what I've done to your car? Is it why you did it?"

He looked surprised.

"Did what?"

"Fooled me into believing the gun carriage was on its way."

He looked away.

"Maybe."

He did not just say that. Suddenly, I felt the urge to find the heaviest thing possible and throw it at him. I think my fallen bumper would be just perfect.

"Give me the damn number." I said through clenched teeth.

" I don't know any." my shoulders sank. "But I think I might know someone who could take care of your car for you."

"Really?" I looked up at him. "Whom?"

He grinned.

"Me."

I looked him down.

"Are you a gun carriage driver in disguise or something?"

"No. But I have a rope in my trunk and a hook on my chassis." he pointed his thumb to the car.

"And how are you planning on towing a car with no front?" I asked.

"I will manage."

"No way." I shook my head. "Give me the number."

He reached out.

"Give me your phone."

I eyed him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"I'll write the number down."

"Oooor, you can tell me the numbers and I'll write it myself." I suggested.

"It's not going to work." he shook his head. "I'm visual. I will remember it only when I see the keyboard."

I lifted a brow.

"Oookaaay..."

I passed him the phone, watching him the whole time. He looked up at me from above the keyboard.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to steal your phone and run off." He said.

I hoped so.

After what seemed like forever, I got my phone back. I pressed the call button and lifted it to my ear, waiting. After a second I heard Black Sabbath's Sabbra Cadabra coming from his pocket. I clenched the phone in my fingers and ended the call.

"You asshole." I said, staring him down. "I wanted the driver's number!"

"And I'm a driver. I didn't do anything wrong."

That was the very moment I started wishing I'd killed him in this car crash.

"Whatever. I'll find it myself."

I turned my back to him and started scrolling the Internet in search of the nearest... whatever is the name of the place where you can find a gun carriage.

He tried talking to me a few times, but I kept ignoring him. The asshole pissed me off. He could keep talking all he wanted, I wouldn't respond.

Finally, I found some centre situated just a ten-minutes-drive from where I was and called it. They said they would come over in twenty. Dammit.

Gripping my phone tightly in my palm, I turned back to the guy only to find him gone. I turned and spotted him leaning against his car's hood, watching me.

"How did it go?" he asked.

My grip on the phone tightened.

"Why are you still here?" I asked, writing a text message to Sierra.

He shrugged.

"It's not like I have anything better to do. Anymore." he sent me a pointed look.

"Then your life must suck." I stated.

His eyes darted to my car.

"Not as much as yours." he fired back.

Oh, that was a low blow.

I sighed.

"Go home." I told him.

"I can't."

My fingers paused, hovering over the keyboard.

"Why?"

"I can't leave you out here alone."

I rolled my eyes.

"I will survive. Go away."

I heard him chuckle.

"Please, Sweetie. You don't even know how to call a gun carriage. You won't know what to do once it comes."

He was probably right, but it was not like I would admit it out loud. Ever.

"I. Will. Survive." I repeated. "Go home or something."

"Why are you trying to get rid of me so much?" his voice sounded closer.

"Because you irritate the s**t out of me. That's why." I told him.

He tsk-ed.

"My, my. I'm not the one who is the reason for us being here right now, am I?"

No, he was not. But he might be, however, the reason for which I would go to hell.

I remained silent, furiously typing the message and hoping Sierra will get it before she turns her phone off. Even after I'd finished, I still refused to look at him. He didn't try talking to me for a while, but I knew he was still there. I could feel his eyes burning into my back.

I wondered what his deal was. First, he yells at me, then he acts like a total d**k, then mercifully agrees to help me when I promise to pay him, and now he wants to help me again? For free?

I didn't like it. At all.

We stayed like this for a while longer, me ignoring him and him alternating between pretending he wasn't there and trying to get me into some conversation. Just when I thought I would not stand it any longer, the gun carriage arrived. He stayed with me through the whole process of getting my Giulietta onto the platform and then offered to drive me home.

I refused.

I had really no idea how I was going to get home, but I'd rather go on foot than have to ride with him. He's already helped me once and now I was going to have to pay for it. No way I was going to let him do anything for me again. Ever.

After a long session of arguing and convincing, wholly witnessed by the poor carriage's driver, I managed to convince him to go home. Before he planted his ass in his seat, though, he stopped and looked at me.

" I will contact you someday." he said. "To set the form of your payment."

I nodded, just now realizing my earlier mistake.

I'm visual.

Right.

I'll remember only when I see the keyboard.

I bit back my groan. I was going to kill myself.

All Dominic needed to contact me was my phone number and I have just given it to him by handing him my cell.