BELLA
The dawn cracked my eyes open like raw eggs tossed on cement, and I wondered how a shot or two of tequila turned into twenty. “Oh, my head.” I rubbed my temples and squeezed my eyelids shut against the brutal glare. Seated next to me, Gigantor gripped the steering wheel and watched the horizon as if k********g drunk girls was an everyday occurrence. “What did you do to me? Where are we?” No answer. “You can’t take me somewhere against my will! I have to turn back to Sacramento and my car!”
“How about one question at a time there, Cap’n Tipsy?”
Outside the window, the landscape blurred by, gold-colored dry grass of summer and the dull green of scrub brush. I fell right into this goon’s trap. God, I sucked at being on the run. “Dammit,” I stomped my Uggs on the floor of his truck.
