“Relax; they’re not even going to look at your height or weight. All they care about is the year on the license.”
“Let’s hope so.” I looked at the girl in the photo again. I had to admit, she did look similar to me. Sighing, I slipped the I.D. into the front pocket of my jeans. “I just hope they don’t quiz me, or anything.”
“You worry too much. Trust me, they won’t.”
I pulled out of her driveway. “Famous last words.”
Giggling, she flipped down the visor and applied lip gloss. She rubbed her lips together and then flipped the visor back up. “You’re so paranoid.”
“You should be, too. We’re breaking the law and obviously, if we get caught, we’re screwed.”
“Nah,” she said, slipping the tube of lip gloss back into her purse. “We won’t. Nothing interesting ever happens to me. The highlight of my day is counting my tips after I’m done working.”
“I wouldn’t call going to jail interesting.”
“You know what I mean. There is nothing exciting about my life. At least, not at the moment. My job is boring, my clothes are boring, and my love life is also freaken’ boring.”
It was like déjà vu. I’d pretty much told my mother the same thing earlier.
“Your clothes aren’t boring,” I replied, glancing at her sparkly silver sweater and black skirt.
She smirked. “Yeah, it’s because I borrowed the outfit from my forty year old mother. How lame is that?”
I laughed. “Well, your mom has great taste in clothes.”
“She’s single. Single women usually do.”
“You’re single, what’s your excuse?” I teased.
She slugged me playfully. “Bitch.”
“I’m just giving you crap. I’m wearing jeans and a plain old sweater. It’s not exactly exciting either.”
“You’re pretty, though,” she replied. “You could wear anything and the guys wouldn’t notice because of those eyes.”
“My eyes?”
“Yeah. You’ve got cat-eyes.”
“Really?” I asked, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.
“I’ve told you a million times, your eyes are wicked.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “Although I have to admit, ever since Billy Santino said that my eyes freaked him out in the fourth grade, I’ve been kind of self-conscious about them.”
She snorted. “Please…Billy Santino had a crush on you since the first grade. Your eyes didn’t freak him out, girlfriend. He just had it bad for you. Always did.”
I had to stop my jaw from dropping. Billy had actually turned out to be pretty hot. Well, annoying as all hell, but definitely drool-worthy. “What? How do you know that?”
“Because he told me. Told me he’d always wanted to ‘tap Chelsey’s ass’.”
“Tap my ass?” I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me?”
“I know… what a pig, huh?”
“I’d say, but seriously, I had no idea he was interested in me.”
“That’s because he thought you hated him,” she replied. “I talked to him at the diner about a year ago and he told me that you used to glare at him all the time in the halls at your school.”
I snorted. “I’m sure I did, because of the comment he’d made about my eyes!”
She laughed.
“Anyway, I would have never went out with him. Heck, he cheated on Sandy Mayer during the last two years of high school, when they were dating.”
“Did he really? Well, if I remember she was a royal bitch. She probably deserved it.”
“Nobody deserves it,” I said, although Sandy had been a real snob and we’d never actually gotten along.
Maybe it was because she knew her boyfriend wanted to tap my ass, I thought, stifling a giggle.
“They were made for each other,” she said. “They’ll probably get married, have babies, and he’ll cheat on her with bathroom whores at Teddy’s, when he’s supposed to be working late.”
Teddy’s was a seedy strip joint, just outside of Beaver Creek, and known for having broken up a lot of marriages. Rumor had it that many of the strippers would do anything for a twenty, and the place was always packed.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you’re right there,” I replied. Pushing Billy out of my mind. I turned on the radio and scrolled through the stations until I found a new song by Maroon Five that I really liked.
Susan reached over, turned it up louder, and began singing with Adam Levine. “He’s so hot,” she said, as the song ended. “I need to buy one of his CD’s.”