Chapter 63
ALICIA
You would think that after two weeks of learning how to drive, I would have gotten the basics. . . at least.
As I screech to a halt in front of the supermarket, the bumper hits the curb, and the car - the poor car - bounces back, almost hitting another incoming car behind. I realize out of probably ten women, I take the cake for dumb, clumsy driving, because who drives with a pillow underneath them and glues their body to the steering wheel to better see where she's going?
No big guess there.
Another car cuts in front of me, effectively boxing me, and blocking the shiny new Passat - a car Ash gifted me with when he confirmed I was indeed having his - our - child. We"d both gone to the automobile show where new cars were being exhibited.
He wanted to pick the newest, biggest, most-expensive truck they had, because, in his own words - my Queen and Princess have to ride in style - but I hadn't wanted showy, I wanted small and sedate, I wanted - no - I want, and got an under the radar kind of car. But Ash gets whatever he wants so he still got the showy truck with the big fancy headlights and the slick leather seats and the -
Pin pin pin pin.
I'm wrenched from my reveries by a familiar horn, and when I look up from where I had unknowingly been clutching the seat tightly, I see Ash coming down from the said truck, followed closely by Night Eyes. There's anger in Ash's eyes as he strides determinedly toward me.
Crap! He caught me.
I scramble down from the car and put my hands up in a defensive pose. "I just wanted a hair shampoo."
The anger in his eyes dissolves as he comes to a stop in front of me and a smirk replaces it instead. He sighs and shakes his head. "You've got a variety of shampoos in ten different types of hair flavors already - Coconut, Avocado, Frosted Cookie, Strawberry, Cinnamon buns, Pink Frosted layer cake, Grapefruit Mango butter, Marshmallow Buttercream, Strawberry Milkshake, and the -"
"Snowy Citrus swirl shampoo, yes, but I wanted to - still - want to get the Pantene Pro-V Smooth & Sleek shampoo, I hear it does wonders for the hair." I pout at him and his eyes zone in on my lips. I can see the uncertainty wavering in his eyes and I know he's going to capitulate when he closes his eyes and releases yet another sigh. A tiny one this time around.
I suck in a tiny squeal as he nods sharply. "Alright, fine, but don't ever leave the house without informing me first." I squeal in happiness like a rabbit and make to jump on him but he raises a finger. "And I'm going inside with you while Night eyes takes back this. . ." his eyes flick to the Passat which I'm leaning against, and a shadow of disgust momentarily washes over his face. "scrap, back to the house."
The smile slides off my lips. "You're no fun."
He laces his fingers in between mine and drags me forward with him. "But you still love me anyway."
That's what I'm most scared about - the love I have for Ash. It's like a tangible thing - so big and life-like. It's not meant to consume me but it does sometimes, and to save myself from free-falling, I mentally pump my brakes on my emotions.
Wanna know how I do it?
Walk with me.
As we step inside the supermarket, heads swivel toward us. Female heads. They're like birds of prey as they watch our - pardon me - Ash's movement. Yes, they know who he is, judging by the way they nudge each other and whisper and point at him.
Ever since he did that one live TV question-and-answer show with Senator Harris as a co-host, he's become an almost legend. I sweep my eyes across the women who have begun taking pictures of him with their mobile phones and make sure they see my angst.
One hair-brained teenager thinks to try her luck as she slinks forward wearing a fuck-me smile, and a barely-there dress, but as my gaze lands on her, she realizes the folly of her reckless action when she changes direction and cuts to the left instead.
And Ash. . .
He's totally oblivious to all the attention. He's like a general as he strides forward with my fingers still linked in-between his, to the hair section. He scoops up about half a dozen shampoos and holds them against his chest forgetting the fact that I specifically want Pantene Pro-V only. Luckily, I see it and grab it before he can tear my hand away from my shoulder in his haste to leave.
So I take back my words. . .
He's not immune to all the attention, he just doesn't like it. Got it.
He quickens his steps toward the checkout area, but there's a problem. There are long lines of people standing at the various check-out points. Ash stops and turns around, and I almost crash into him. "Is it really necessary for you to get all of these?" He signals to the shampoos he's clutching to his chest.
"No, it's not me-"
"Thank goodness, because I can send-"
"Just this one." I jerk my hand to the Pantene Pro-V that I'm clutching tightly. I'm so not letting it go now that I've found it.
He drops his gaze to the ground and turns around before facing the long line of people once again. I watch in consternation as a shrill cry rings out, and before I can say Eureka, a woman is racing towards us. Her whole face is beetroot red as she comes closer. "Mr. Ash Thunder, I'm mighty pleased to see you here, why, I was just talking about you with my friends."
Her Texas accent grates on my nerves as she jabbers on and points to some other equally excited female fans who wave at Ash. She even dares to wave them over. Ten, or maybe twenty of them race over as well and they surround Ash. He tries, he really does try to hold on to my fingers, but that doesn't happen as they slip out of his and I'm effectively cut off from him.
I'm tall for a female, but as I crane my neck in search of him amongst the bevy of women flocking around him, I realize something is off because these women are wayy taller than me. I'm not talking about five, ten, or even fifteen. All twenty of them.
Alarm bells ring loudly in my head when I realize this. I look wildly around trying to figure out what to do but no one comes to my rescue. They're all busy recording the scene with their phones.
That's when my eyes land on someone striding towards me.