She shook her head as Pamela Sue said hello on her end.
“It’s me.”
“VJ. Thank God.” Pamela Sue heaved out a long sigh. “Your daddy’s been here twice, saying you’ve been gone since last night.”
The hot leather burned into her thighs as she shifted to find a more comfortable spot. “I’m okay. I’m on my way to Dallas.”
“Dallas? How’d you get to the bus station? No one’s been near Van Horn—”
“I’m with Kris.”
“Kris? Kristian Demetrious? That Kris? Wait. Are you with Kris, or with Kris? Hold on, let me sit down.” Bedsprings squeaked in the background. “In case it’s better than I’m imagining.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” VJ hissed and darted a glance through the tinted window to make sure that Kris wasn’t strolling across the concrete toward the car. “It’s not like that. He’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time. He doesn’t have to pick up waitresses along the road.”
“Hey, you were Miss Little Crooked Creek a couple of times. You’re every bit as beautiful as they are,” Pamela Sue insisted. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
She smiled a little at the blind loyalty. Pamela Sue hadn’t seen her face and therefore didn’t realize VJ resembled a raccoon. “I love you, even when you’re lying.”
“Well, I hate you. A lot. How dare you ride off into the sunset with a sexy guy in a sexy car? I’ll never forgive you unless you have a smoking hot affair and spill every last detail.”
“Deal.” She sobered. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s a secret. The media, you know.”
She didn’t think Daddy would come after her all the way to Dallas, but it couldn’t hurt to take precautions.
“Oh, yeah. I do know. The media chases me around all the time.” Pamela Sue cleared her throat. “What happened, VJ? I know you didn’t hop on the first set of testicles to wheel through town. This isn’t like you.”
“Nothing happened. It was time.” She injected a note of levity. “I ran into Kris this morning, and he offered me a ride. How could I refuse? Long way to Dallas. Lots of opportunity to help him forget about those beautiful women he used to know.”
Pamela Sue laughed and a tear slipped down VJ’s cheek. They’d never lied to each other. Never. But neither would she let anyone think of her as a victim, besides Kris, but only because it was too late. Pamela Sue might run straight to Bobby Junior or Tackle, tattling about how VJ had been hit. There was a part of her that wondered if they’d let Daddy slide or take his side out of loyalty. If she lost that battle, what then? She’d rather take the real rescue from her knight in a shining Ferrari.
“You gonna stay with Jenny Porter’s cousin?” Pamela Sue asked.
“Yeah.” Beverly Porter wouldn’t mind if VJ asked to stay on her couch until the condo was finished. The worst thing that could happen is she’d have to pay rent early. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.
“Call me when you get to Dallas. Be careful.”
“Yes, ma’am. No talking to strangers.”
“I meant buy a box of condoms.”
A diluted laugh slipped out and was ragged enough to communicate to her best friend what she couldn’t say aloud. “Good bye, Pamela Sue.”
She hung up—or at least she thought she did after punching random pictures on the slick screen—and went to retrieve her Greek god.
When she rushed back into the main dining room, Kris was staring at the flaking wall, chiseled lips pursed and troubled, fingers drumming the table.
“Ready?” he said, and unfolded his frame from the chair-table combination bolted to the floor.
Something was off in his rigid stance. An invisible layer drenched with stress. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m ready to go. After you.” His granite expression didn’t waver, reminding her of inaccessible Kristian Demetrious from the diner when he’d faced down her brothers.
This time, that look was directed at her. Their interaction was a lot of things, most of it too difficult to pin down, but she couldn’t stand for strained to be on the list. The foreign engine in his mind had begun to reveal its secrets, and she wanted to take it apart to see what made it tick.
She let it drop until they’d both slid into their seats and he hit the button to start the engine. Over the hefty roar, she said, “If you want to talk, I’d be happy to listen.”
“I said there’s nothing wrong.”
“No,” she said. “You said you were ready to go, as if to imply you were impatiently waiting for me. You’re restless, not impatient.”