It's that time of the week again, for our next installment of fun and games. Enjoy!
“Why did you go and lie to her like that?” Grace demanded as Lucky lobbed the phone across the center console to her after hanging up with Harper. “I am not crying, and you did not throw up in my car.”
“Could you not talk so loud,” he begged, as he laid his head against the cool glass of the passenger door, “My head is killing me.”
“You’re not seriously looking for sympathy, are you?”
When Lucky launched those stunning ice blue eyes her way, Grace was overcome by the contrast between Owen and his twin. Yes, both had blue eyes, but on Lucky they were more electric, which explained the voltage zaps she felt every time he directed them her way. Owen may be the musician, but Lucky rocked the bad-boy image much better.
“Maybe a little?” he asked holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger barely touching.
“Not even a smidge,” she tossed back.
“Fine. I’m an idiot, okay?”
“Why did you do it?” she asked softly.
Sighing, he responded, “Getting drunk seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
“I’m not talking about getting drunk. I’m talking about the bite out of crime you took this morning. What were you thinking? Beating up a teacher? Jesus, Lucky. If he decides to press charges, you are going to jail.” Grace’s anger shone through on each word.
Holding up a hand, Lucky asked incredulously, “Hold up. There isn’t a warrant out for my arrest yet?”
“No, you dumbass. And you would already have known that if you’d been home when Owen got there with your mother. Who, by the way, has no idea you were involved.”
“I don’t understand. He saw me-Hass, he saw me.” Lucky said, meeting Grace’s unwavering stare with one of his own.
“He didn’t call the cops; his neighbor did. He’s the one that gave them your description and the vehicles make and model along with the license plate. They arrested Owen because it’s his truck, and he matched it.”
“Oh man,” Lucky moaned as he pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes. “I really screwed that up.”
Grabbing his wrist, Grace said, “Yeah, you really did.”
On a startled chuckle, Lucky said, “You don’t cut a guy a break do you?”
Grace’s face went pensive and she shook her head.
“I have to make this right,” he announced.
Nodding in agreement, “I think that’s a great place to start. But you never answered my question.”
“Which one? You ask a lot of ‘em.”
Smiling, she said, “Why did you lie to Harper? About the crying and getting sick in my car?”
“Cuz, you need your friend.”
“No, I really don’t,” she responded irked, even as she crossed her arms across her chest in a clearly defensive pose.
“Yes, you really do,” he volleyed back. “I didn’t hear what you said to each other, but even I could see that he hurt you.”
Touched, “I’m okay. Besides, Harper is the last person I want to talk to about Truman. She never thought it was a good idea for us to date anyway. I mean, she never said that, but I could tell. I don’t think she thinks I'm good enough for him.”
Lucky couldn’t help it, he goggled at Grace. “No, she doesn’t. If anything, she thinks you’re too good for him. Which, I happen to agree with her on that one.”
“You may be biased.” Reminding them both of the simmering attraction between them.
“So what if I am?” he shot back. “This may sound crazy, but you are the kind of girl a guy should…well he should.” Stumbling over his words, he searched for the right one.
“The kind of girl?” she prompted.
“I don’t know what the word is I’m looking for here. I’m still a little drunk. But he… I mean, if it were me… What I’m trying to say is any guy would be… He would be…”
“Lucky?” she offered.
“What?” he asked.
“No,” she said laughing. “The word you were looking for. Lucky.”
His eyebrows shot up as recognition dawned. “Yeah, lucky. That’s it. Any guy would be lucky to have you. If he isn’t acting like that, he isn’t good enough for you.”
Letting that soak in for a moment, the words a balm to her battered emotions, “Your right.”
Surprise raced his across his face as he asked, “I am? Which part?”
“All of it, I guess.”
“So does that mean you’ll go out with me now?” No way was he letting this opportunity go.
Smiling, grateful to have something to smile about, she replied, “Tell you what. Get your mess cleaned up, and if you don’t end up doing three to five for assault, ask me again.”
“Okay.” He could feel the smile trying to break through. “Okay,” he said again.
“Where do we start? To get this mess cleaned up, I mean?”
“I need to talk to Owen first,” Lucky said as Truman’s car screeched to a halt on Grace’s side, startling both of Frenchy’s passengers.
Noting Harper, not Truman behind the wheel with Owen riding shot gun, she said, “Here’s your chance.”
“Thanks Grace,” he grabbed the door handle and pushed.
“Anytime,” pushing open her car door she came face to face with Owen.
Before Grace could say anything, Owen rushed, “I swear to God, he will clean your car-front to back- and get all of it out.”
Confused, Grace looked at Lucky. When the light bulb when off, she laughed. “No, it’s okay, Owen. He didn’t get sick in my car, he was being funny. He actually made it to the bushes. Although, boy could use a tic-tac right about now.”
Harper rushed around the front of the car, “Are you okay?”
“I’m good. What about you?”
“Never mind about me. What happened? Lucky said you were crying. You never cry. Tell me.” Harper, at her best was a force to be reckoned with, and it seemed Grace always brought out her best.
“Harps, take Lucky home. He needs to talk to O. By the way, if you have Truman’s car, what is he driving?”
Distracted, “Shit. I'm on my way to pick him up. Are you sure you’re okay?” She was already moving back toward the driver’s side as she asked the question.
“I’m good. Promise.”
Lucky and Owen were speaking in hushed tones when Grace called out, “Lucky.”
When their eyes locked, Grace smiled and said, “If you start to feel sick again, feel free puke it up in Truman’s car. Okay?”
Her answer was a slow wink and a smile.