Read Online Crescent City Connection by Julie Smith - Free Book Online Page B

sex with someone—a stranger, perhaps, or an old boyfriend; just a fragment of a dream. She opened her eyes a crack, saw the car, remembered where she was, and closed them again while she tried to think what to do.
    No thoughts came.
    Finally she simply sat up straight, opened her eyes, and looked around, preparatory to any sudden moves.
    To her horror, she saw that the owner of the hand was not Sam but Chip, who was now in the driver’s seat. She stared at him, wild, riveted. He smiled, puckered his lips, and kissed the air in her direction, jamming his hand tight against her crotch.
    She shook her head and pushed at his hand.
    He smiled, not budging.
    What the hell was this? A cat playing with a mouse, smiling because he’d won? Or his idea of seduction?
    And there were other issues—why Chip, not Sam? Had they flipped for her, or what?
    The air was heavy with beer breath, and she realized that was why Sam hadn’t smelled right—he was probably half-loaded when they met (as were Chip and Mimi), and now they were no doubt fully tanked.
    She felt fear trying to close her throat and forced it back down. No time for that now.
    She said, “Where are we?”
    “Almost there.”
    “Almost to New Orleans?”
    “That’s where you want to go, idn’t it?”
    Which wasn’t the same as a yes. And she thought she heard a slight edge to his voice.
    Still, she nodded. “I’m tired.”
    He said, “Want to go to bed?”
    Men are so damn predictable
, she thought, and she nodded again. “I’m pretty tired. Could I have a beer?”
    “Sure.” He smiled, as if happy to see her entering into the spirit of things, and when he removed his hand to give her the beer, she seized her advantage and changed positions.
    The sun was coming up when they entered that long, lonely stretch of Highway 55 that seems more like a bridge over a swamp than a highway. Lovelace was still holding her barely touched beer and thinking. She couldn’t come up with a plan that didn’t involve the police, but she wasn’t too worried—yet.
    Sam woke up. “Yecch. I feel horrible. What’d we do last night?”
    “You did a little speed, buddy. Little booze, too.”
    “Well, lemme have some more speed.”
    Speed. Did that dull or enhance the sex drive?
    She couldn’t remember.
    “We better find a place to crash. There’s gonna be nothin’ within miles of the French Quarter.”
    Lovelace said, “Why not?” before she caught herself.
    “Never on the weekends.” Sam sounded offhand, but a moment later he put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey. Thought you lived there.”
    She turned to the backseat. “That’s why I don’t stay in hotels.”
    “Wait a minute,” said Chip. “Why don’t we just stay at your place?”
    “Are you kidding? I live with my parents.”
    Sam said, “Well, why are we giving you this ride, anyhow?”
    Lovelace thought, Oh, boy. But she was starting to feel like herself again, the shock and numbness of her experience receding, the drug wearing off. She said, “Because you are fine Christian men helping out a damsel in distress.”
    Chip laughed in a way Lovelace really couldn’t construe as anything but evil. “Oh, yeah, right.”
    It occurred to her that she should have wondered herself why they were giving her the ride. But the answer seemed obvious and not even sinister—they were drunk and it seemed like a good idea at the time.
    Sam winked at Lovelace, who had noticed by this time that Mimi was stretched out with her head in his lap. “You two gettin’ along?”
    She smiled with her lips together, hoping they hadn’t thinned into a telltale line. “Just fine.”
    “Hey, ol’ buddy, gimme another hit of speed, okay?”
    Chip pulled some pills out of his pocket, passed them back to Sam, and offered one to Lovelace. She took it, thinking she could use the rush.
    The two men looked at each other. Chip said, “Aw right!”
    Apparently, they thought they’d found a kindred spirit.
    Sam said, “Gimme a