I Don't Care

As it so happened, the mugger was only looking desperately for a quick sum of cash to get his life back together. He’d sent all of his money to his ex-wife because their daughter had taken seriously ill, it barely managed to cover her medical expenses and she was eventually allowed to go home.

“Yeah… I’m sure he was.” Mel sighed half-sarcastically, knowing full well what the mugger’s thoughts were, casually writing out the anonymous check before sticking her checkbook back in her pocket. Thankfully, she was just as loaded herself, but she remembered she was working class once upon a time, so she understood.

Though he would never admit it, Roland did very much like it when Mel held him close to her the way she so often did. At first it had bothered him but eventually he grew to like it, mainly because he was not used to allowing people to touch him. He didn’t want to let someone get this close, everyone he ever started to actually care about had always ended up leaving. So naturally, he kept everyone at arm’s length. Somehow though, Mel had managed to sneak right past his raised walls and disarm his guards.

“Oh, we’re not taking that thing.” Mel chuckles, running her hand over her prized black custom 1958 Cadillac. “I’m driving.” She smirks as she opens the side door for Roland to step in. “Don’t worry, it’s not Christine. It isn’t gonna bite you.” As soon as he sat in the front seat, she closed the door and headed over to the driver’s side of the car. “Besides, I know you’ve been wanting to have a ride in this beauty. So I figure, why not start now?” Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life.

“You’re driving?” Roland looked at Mel, then looked around once more for his driver and hoped this was some kind of prank. A second glance at his wrist watch told him this was not so, he side-eyed the car she’d just indicated and pursed his lips. He was reluctant to get into it but there wasn’t much choice to be had since they were already going to be the last ones to arrive.

“A girl who could carry her boyfriend over her shoulder, but still…” She wiggles her eyebrows as she drives to the location, a high-end club both of them could frequent, but in this case, she was invited by her more scruffier rockstar friends. “Just because I wear lipstick doesn’t mean I can’t save your ass.” Eventually she pulled up to the entrance, handing the keys to the valet and tipping him extra.

By now, Roland was accustomed to Mel’s remarks and he took them much less personally. He couldn’t imagine she would ever dare to even try putting him over her shoulder, yet when she said it he did have the feeling she probably would. There was an air of bemusement about him as he raised a single brow and bit back a comment about cavemen, instead he put on his seatbelt and gripped onto his seat tightly.