“I don’t want you to get too hot,” I say. Then laugh.
“What?”
“Wouldn’t it be funny if you stole my car?”
“No. It would be terrible. And why wouldn’t the thought cross your mind? You don’t know me that well. You should take your keys. I’ll be fine till you get back.”
“I trust you completely,” I say.
“Thanks, Gideon. That deserves a kiss!” she says.
I kiss her and say, “Thanks, Zander.”
“For?”
“You know.”
She smiles. “Hey. It can happen to anyone. We’ll make up for it in round two.”
I kiss her again, then get out of the car to pee. It takes a minute to find a secluded area, which I need, because I actually do have to piss. Guess I was too excited to notice.
Halfway back to the car I can already tell she’s gone.
She’s either bailed out on the date or decided to pee after all.
I go with the good thought. After all, she could have stolen my car, and didn’t.
She’s gone up the hill to pee. I’m sure of it.
Otherwise, why give me all that encouragement, and offer a kiss? If she planned to bail, she’d just bail.
Back in the car I consider pressing the button to raise the seat, but decide against it because I want to be ready when Zander returns.
I’m more comfortable with the riverbank scene now. I think part of my problem was worrying someone was going to walk up on us, despite Zander’s reassurance to the contrary. But as I look around I can see that all the cars and trucks are maintaining a respectful distance from each other.
I lie back and close my eyes. Try to imagine Zander naked, but it’s not helping me. She hasn’t given me enough to go on yet, nudity-wise, so I let my thoughts drift to Trudy Lake. I didn’t see her naked, either, but I touched her partially and she touched me thoroughly. I remind myself I had no problem staying erect with Trudy working the controls.
These thoughts of Trudy are doing the trick. I allow my hand to graze my crotch.
I graze it again.
I feel my plumbing start to work, and help it along with a gentle bit of rubbing.
I’m interrupted by a sharp tapping on the window. I grin, expecting to see Zander, proud of what I’ve accomplished while waiting for her.
But it’s not Zander, it’s a policeman.
“I’m not cleanin’ this mess up by myself,” she says.
35
“Great gobs oF goose shit!” the cop shouts. “What the fuck do we have here?”
My first thought is to hide the wine, in case we’re out of the city limits. But I don’t see the wine.
“Don’t just lie there, tryin’ to coax the fillin’ outta your Twinkie!” he roars. “Sit the fuck up and roll down the window!”
I press the window button, but nothing happens.
It suddenly dawns on me the car isn’t running. I glance at the steering column.
The keys are gone.
As is Zander’s giant handbag.
I open the door.
“Get to your feet and lean against the car, maggot.”
I do as he says. He pats me down.
“Empty your pockets onto the roof.”
I reach into my pockets and realize they’re empty. I pull them out so he can see.
“Where’s your driver’s license?”
“Back pocket.”
“Reach back and pull it out.”
I do as he says.
He takes his time, but finally gives it back to me and says, “Does this look like Pee Wee Herman’s Fun House to you?”
“No sir.”
“What kind of doctor comes to the riverbank to pull his pud?”
“I wasn’t-”
“Are there any more of you? Please don’t tell me an army of New York doctors has chosen my beloved city to host a circle-jerk!”
“There was a girl.”
“A girl? I don’t see a girl. Is she in the trunk?”
“No sir.”
“You know what I see, Dr. Box?”
“What’s that, officer?”
“I see a peter-pumpin’ pecker-puller.”
“I bet you can’t say that five times,” I say.
“You better get the fuck outta my town, Doctor. Because if I catch you within five miles of a school yard I’ll bring you to room temperature before you can say hard-on!”
He gives me a long look.
“Got it, officer. Sorry.”
He shakes his head in disgust and leaves.
I wait five minutes until I’m sure he’s gone, then look around for the keys, give up, then head up the hill to find Zander.
“I’m not cleanin’ this mess up by myself,” she says.
36
As you may have guessed, Zander is nowhere to be found.
I try to call her, but get a recorded voice message.
“Zander!” I say. “Please call me back! I don’t blame you for leaving, and I’m not upset about the money. I just need my car keys.”
I take my life in my hands by approaching a parked car. “Please don’t shoot!” I say, loudly. “I need some help. A young lady’s gone missing.”
I see a flash of hairy ass and then a guy rolls down the front window and says, “How young?”
“Early twenties.”
“Fuck off!”
I go back to the car, call Zander again, get no response.
I face the fact I’ve been robbed.
It’s okay. I’ve still got my wallet. I’ve also got another fifteen grand in my medical bag.
I play it in my mind. When she pulled my pants down and rummaged around in her handbag she wasn’t looking for a condom. She’d already emptied my pockets. She was stuffing my cash in her bag.
Why did she take the wine with her?
Who knows? Fingerprints? DNA? Maybe she really likes the wine.
Where did she go?
I think about it.
She probably had it planned in advance with whoever dropped her off at the junk yard. Maybe Chris, from the bowling alley.
Or her real boyfriend.
I sigh.
She left me my wallet. All things considered, that was damn nice of her. She certainly didn’t have to do that.
So why did she take my keys?
I think about it a few minutes and come up with this: she had to walk up the hill carrying the handbag. Probably thought I might turn around on my way to pee. If so, I would’ve seen her. Maybe she was afraid I’d drive up the hill to save her the walk. And maybe I’d catch her climbing into her boyfriend’s car, or Chris’s truck.
Then I start thinking about the policeman.
It dawns on me he just showed up.
He didn’t drive up in a police car, he just walked down the hill and chewed me out. Then he walked back up the hill.
Did he visit any of the other cars?
No.
So either Zander ran into him on the hill and told him I was jerking off in the car…
Or he’s the boyfriend.
I think he’s the boyfriend.
Because if he really thought I was a pervert, wouldn’t he have arrested me?
I get a sudden sinking feeling, remembering how long he had my wallet when I was leaning against the car with my back to him.
He probably copied all my information in a notebook.
Name. Address. Driver’s License. Credit cards, including the security codes.
Shit!
Since he didn’t take me in, and didn’t have a cop car, he’s probably not even a cop.
I call the rental car agency in Nashville and report stolen keys.
It takes ten minutes to convince them the car is safely in my possession.
“Why didn’t you say so?” the lady says. “We’re hooked up to satellite. We can start your car for you. When you get where you’re going, call us back and we’ll turn it off and lock it. When you’re ready to go again, call us and we’ll unlock it and start it up for you again.”
I’m amazed, but it seems like a lot of trouble to go through.
“Is there an easier way?”
“You could download the key app and do it yourself from your cell phone.”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“The key app costs ninety-nine cents.”