“My, my, Mr. Parks. You do clean up good.” She looked over his shoulder down to the parking lot. “Where’s your bike?”
“I didn’t want to muss your hair. I brought my cage.”
“Cage? Oh yeah, your car.”
“It’s the finest in beater cars, fit for the predations of Connecticut’s corrosive salt-slicked winter roads.”
“A real beast?”
“Six under the hood and four on the floor.”
“Does that include the holes in the floor?”
“Very funny. It’s mechanically sound. I make sure of it myself.”
“I’m sure. But wouldn’t a ride in Cadillac with the top down be nice on a beautiful day like today?” She dangled her keys within his reach.
“But what about your hair? Wouldn’t it get mussed?”
“It’s muss-able hair.”
Yes, he thought. His few remaining cogent brain cells dissolved into mush, and rushed to his cock as he stared at the golden halo flowing to her shoulders. Very muss-able. “Whatever the lady wishes,” he said gallantly.
“Good; you drive.” She tossed him the keys.
“Me?” he said as he caught them and followed her down the steps.
“You know where we’re going. I hope it’s not too far. I hate walking in after the priest starts the service.”
“Sounds like a woman who’s done that before. Late nights?”
“Oh, please. My roommate is a bathroom hog. If I don’t get up at the crack of dawn, I miss my slot in the shower.”
Saks walked ahead and opened the car door for her.
“Mr. Parks, are you trying to spoil me?” After she sat, Chrissy comically fanned her face with her hands.
“In every way possible, darlin’.”
Saks slid into the car, appreciating the soft white leather of the seats and the steering wheel. It was an older Caddy, probably from the ’90s, but it was in excellent condition. He turned the ignition, and the vehicle purred to life. “How’d you end up with a classic like this?”
“It’s not a classic, not yet. But my grandfather was concerned by the old Acura I had and gave this to me.”
“Nice of him.”
“Not so much. It was his excuse to get himself a new one, a great big honking red Cadillac with silver trim. It’s quite a testament to consumerism.”
“You're not a consumer?”
“I save my money. I think people giving me elderly cars in prime shape is quite a win. What about you? Why isn’t your grandfather handing off cars he can’t get a decent trade-in for?”
Saks winced. This was a tricky part, getting into family history. He didn’t want to, so he made it as simple as he could. “Grandpa Parks has been gone a while.”
Saks mentally kicked himself. He just led her to believe that his grandfather was dead when, actually, he was doing twenty-to-life in a Virginia prison.
“What about your mother’s father?”
Shit. How do you explain that your mother’s father was killed in a shootout with his family’s fiercest rivals? “Family’s a bit...complicated.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m prying.”
“No. I mean, I’d just like us to have some fun.”
“Going to church?” She gave him an incredulous look.
“It’s best to cleanse the soul before we face the temptations of the world.” He couldn’t help but smirk then, especially when an image of Chrissy’s perfect mouth, gasping an “oh” when she came, flashed through his mind.
“Temptations? Just what are you planning, Mr. Anthony Parks?”
“To take your money through gambling,” he said as they pulled in to the parking lot of the church. “Though I suppose I’ll have to wait until after the service for that. That’s when Father Peters will greet me by name.”
“This I have to see,” she said.
“You don’t believe me?” he said with mock indignation.
“Well, I confess that, until this morning, I didn’t think you graced the inside of a church. But with you out of that tacky leather jacket, I can see that happening now.”
Saks frowned as he opened the car door for her. He leaned in. “Tacky? Watch it, woman. Never, ever, diss the colors of a Hades’ Spawn.”
“Why? What would happen?”
“I just might have to spank you.”
Oh brother, he was going to be sinning later today.
“Hey, Saks,” said a short blonde as they entered the atrium of the church. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Saks blushed, and immediately Chrissy thought something was up.
“Oh, hi, Emily. Yeah, every once in a while I get the urge to get right with God.”
Emily handed Saks and Chrissy programs for the service. “And who’s your friend?” Her eyes sparkled with interest and mischief.
Chrissy knew for sure that Saks didn’t make regular appearances at church. At least not this one. That fifty bucks was as good as hers. She grinned.
“This is Chrissy.” Saks motioned to Chrissy. “This is Emily, my boss’s wife.”