The Player, The Thief and The Broken Heart - Chapter Eighty-One - One Sweet Ride

Steve stared dumbly at Jeannie's Volkswagen. He knew it was hers because he'd ridden inside of it the other day. He'd always prided himself on his powers of observation such as the series on her license plate. And who else would have that little hula dancer wiggling on the dash. Well, lots of people, he supposed. But this one had the same red lei and bikini top.

Should he wait, or call it a night. He couldn't decide. He felt like a stalker staring at her empty vehicle but it wasn't like he'd searched the entire parking garage for it. She'd told him she always parked on this floor. That way she wouldn't forget. Okay, so it was a little stalkerish. But damn, he needed to get laid! His girlfriend was the kind who always wanted to ride on top and would close her eyes while she ground against him. Sometimes he felt as if he could be replaced by a sofa armrest with a wood peg attached to it. Meanwhile Jeannie had settled down on her back, fully surrendering herself. She gazed into his eyes for nearly the entire duration. Steve had fucked his share of women over the years. Close to a hundred by now. But he'd never before had an encounter that was so ... intimate.

She had been drinking earlier, he reminded himself. And she did seem the responsible type, who'd take a taxi home instead of trying to drive. If only she'd picked up when he called, or if her phone had gone straight to voice mail instead of ringing half a dozen times first. He had no business being worried about her. She was an adult. And yet he worried all the same.

Disappointed and lonely, he shuffled back towards the stairwell. His eyes fell to a curl of black ribbon lying on the concrete floor. He stooped to pick it up. No one appeared to have treaded on it so it couldn't have been here long.

That means shit, he told himself, standing again. It's just a piece of ribbon. He was delaying the inevitable, facing his empty hotel suite. He felt way too wired after earlier to even think of falling asleep anytime soon. All evening he'd paced himself. One or two more drinks wouldn't hurt. Or three of four. He continued down the stairs. He'd head to that Casbah lounge, that's what he'd do. A lot of the women in there had been pretty good looking from what he could remember. Not that his eyes had been wandering much when he'd been there with Jeannie.

Sounds of footsteps hurrying towards him shook him out of his reverie. He gaped at Mr. Benson, who seemed equally as startled. The Englishman was gripping the arm of a dark-haired woman whose wrists were pinned with a plastic zipper tie. His other hand held a small pistol of some kind. "Take her for me and come this way," he ordered.

Steve was too stunned to think of doing anything but obey the man. He was also the one holding the gun, he reminded himself, as he gingerly took the woman's arm. Grasping her tight, he walked behind her the rest of the way up. Her throat gurgled as they followed Benson, still in his suit, towards a sleek black Lotus.

"Nice," Steve said, nearly releasing the woman by accident. This car was a thing of beauty. He'd seen various models in magazine photos but never up close before. The über-wealthy in his social circles had much more plebeian tastes, usually the Italian makes. But nothing, he thought, could ever beat the British when it came to style.

Benson threw the passenger door open and said to the woman Steve was holding, "I'm afraid you'll have to sit on his lap."

Good thing the woman was light, Steve thought, wincing as a sharp bone dug into his lap. Lighter than Jeannie. Jeannie was thin, but sturdy. This woman had the frail build of an elderly woman although she looked barely thirty. It was hard to tell her age. No lines around her eyes or the corners of her mouth and yet she had hard, almost skeletal facial features.

Benson introduced himself as Le Bon, "But you may call me Simon, and this is my former partner Jane Matins." Steve figured he'd been using an alias. Why, he could only guess.

Matins gritted her teeth. Another gurgle erupted from her throat. "What's the deal with her?"

"Long story," Le Bon said, starting the engine.

Steve had yet to ask where they were going. So long as he was in a car as cool as this, he didn't care. This was one sweet ride.