Part 23 (2/2)
”Then how'd you get here?” Skepticism dripped from her question.
”I hitched a ride. Why won't you tell me what you're up to?”
Betty remained stubbornly silent.
I tugged my hair frustrated. ”Of all people, you should know that I won't judge you. Trust me enough to tell me what's going on. Where have you been running off to? Are you in some type of trouble?”
She brushed past me, heading for the counter. ”It's not what you think.”
I grabbed my backpack and followed her. ”That's the point. I don't know what to think. Is it money problems? Do you need some cash? Besides the wad of dollar bills you have stashed inside your purse? You should put your money in the safe until you can make a bank deposit on Monday.”
”You keep your money, Cookie. Stop worrying about my cash and start worrying about yourself.” She pulled her purse off the shelf from under the counter.
I sighed. The time had come to fill Betty in on my financial stability. I leaned against the counter blocking her only escape route. ”I need to make a confession.”
”What are you gonna tell me? That you're hiding a kid?” She cackled at her lame joke.
I grabbed her delicate hands and held them firmly in mine. ”Look, there's no need for you to worry about money. I have enough for both of us. If you're in some type of dire financial situation, I'd be happy to help. Consider it a loan if it makes you feel better.”
”I don't know what you're babbling about, but I have plenty of money.”
”So do I,” I rea.s.sured her.
”Sure thing, Cookie. Whatever you say.”
She tried to pull her hands away, but I held tightly, careful not to apply pressure to her bruise. ”I'm part of the Texas Montgomerys.”
She narrowed her eyes and thought about what I was saying. ”You mean oil?”
I shrugged, unwilling to go into details. ”Among other things.”
She whistled. ”You're loaded.”
I released her hands and straightened. ”My family is wealthy. I'm blessed to be a Montgomery. The point is, I care a lot about you. If you need anything, please know you can count on me to help you out.”
”Really? Anything?” She peered into my face.
”Absolutely.” I nodded.
”Okay. Come to my place.” She whizzed past me.
I blinked. ”Right now?” I should be happy she was taking me up on my offer. I hadn't expected her to bite so quickly. I thought I would have had to work a little harder to convince her.
”You got something better to do?”
”I still need to pick up the Jeep. We left all the merchandise at the park. Malone wants to talk to you, and Grey and I have a date tonight.”
”Then we better get crackin'.”
I texted Darby informing her she was free of me. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and followed Betty to the door wondering where we were going and if we were about to do something illegal. We locked up the shop and headed toward her car.
”What were you rummaging around for in there?” I motioned to the boutique.
”You'll find out,” she a.s.sured me. I wasn't rea.s.sured by the secretive look she wore.
Confession time. I'm a grown woman, but I was afraid to get in the car with Betty. I didn't have a phobia about tiny cars, but I didn't exactly feel safe riding in them. The majority of my fear came from Betty's horrible driving. The last time I'd ridden with her, I hadn't been sure we'd survive the experience.
I hesitated, my hand on the pa.s.senger door handle. ”Do you think I could drive?”
She looked at me over the top of her Mini Cooper. ”Do you know where we're going?”
”Not yet. But I can follow directions.”
She opened her door. After a throaty laugh, she said, ”No one drives my car but me. Get in.”
I'm not Catholic, but I crossed myself. Insurance. At least I had my seatbelt fastened before she backed out of the parking s.p.a.ce at record speed. She slammed the car into drive and stepped on the gas. I grabbed the Oh-c.r.a.p handle above my head, flas.h.i.+ng back to our last memorable drive together.
”Do you think you could stay off the sidewalk this time?” I squeezed one eye shut and cringed as she narrowly avoided clipping a parked Land Rover.
She gripped the steering wheel like she was a NASCAR driver. She turned her head and looked me. ”You're too wound up. You gotta learn to relax.”
”How? You drive like a manic.” I gasped in terror. ”Watch the road.”
My life flashed before my eyes. I was going to die and miss my dinner with Grey. It was suddenly clear what I needed to do to make it up to Grey.
Betty ran a yellow light, turned onto Pacific Coast Highway, and headed north. She gunned it coming out of the turn, slamming me against the door.
”Did you get your license out of a box of Cracker Jacks?”
I could practically feel my teeth grinding to dust, my jaw was clenched so tightly. I was afraid I'd cry out like a school girl every time the pa.s.senger tires blipped onto the shoulder, but I held it inside, lest she mock me for the remainder of our time together.
”I'm a fantastic driver.”
”No. You're not. You switch lanes as often as a mother changes her newborn's diapers.”
”I like to make time.”
”I like to arrive at my destination alive.”
Betty slammed on the brakes and hung a left into a gated community. She rolled up to the security gate and punched in the security code. I flashed a sideways glance. She was definitely full of her own secrets. This wasn't just any gated community. The cheapest mansion behind the gilded gate was a measly twenty-five million. In order to live here someone had to vouch that you weren't a fraud or criminal, and have a substantial amount of cash in the bank.
We wove our way through the meticulously kept neighborhood where even the soaring palm trees that lined the quiet streets were prestigious. The residential speed b.u.mps were the only thing slowing down Racecar Betty.
She finally found the long driveway she was looking for. She pulled through and parked next to the bungalow hidden behind the huge mansion in the front.
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