Men. Cars. Great form, no function, and they both overheated at the wrong time. Who needed them?
Kathy Bartlett glanced in her rearview mirror hoping to spot her hero of the moment, Rod’s Reliable Tow Service. Nothing.
Okay, so she’d lied. She needed her car, but she needed it functional.
“Speaking of function . . .” She glanced at the shiny hourglass-shaped toy perched on the seat beside her. “What the heck do you do?” She picked up the toy, turned it over, tapped the amber lights on top of its head, then plunked it back onto the seat.
“The strong silent type, huh? Hate to break this to you, but young America likes toys that do something. Loudly. That’s why you were left on the shelf, kiddo.” She stared out her sleet-blurred windshield at the passing New York traffic. Great Christmas Eve. “You know, you sort of remind me of my ex-husband, Peter Matthew Stone. Looks hot, does squat. A major PMS moment in my life. Mind if I call you Peter?”
The toy was cool with that.
“What did I do to deserve this, Peter? I’m an okay person. I make women’s hair safe for America. When Alice asked me to pick up some toys for the shelter, I said sure. I didn’t hire a hit man to knock off old PMS because he’s suing me for mental anguish. And I never once laughed when he called a certain body part his love gun. So why is this happening to me?”
Peter hadn’t a clue.
“This is all your fault, Peter.”
Peter didn’t think so.
“I get out of work late, then run to a few stores looking for toys. You know what’s left on Christmas Eve? Rejects. No offense.”
Peter handled it.
“Now I’m stuck on the side of the road with a sack of slightly weird toys in my trunk and one beside me. Fine. So I’m a pushover. I bought you because you were just sitting on the shelf. Admit it, though, you were feeling kind of lonely all by yourself. Hey, I understand what it’s like on the shelf. Besides, no one should be alone on Christmas.”
Kathy cast another look in her mirror, then sighed with relief when she saw the tow truck edging toward her out of the darkness on the shoulder of the highway.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Sleet and frigid air hit her in the face. Yech. Shoving her cell phone into her purse, she grabbed her backpack full of hair supplies, climbed out, then went to retrieve her bag of toys from the trunk. Maybe she could convince the driver to swing past the shelter. She’d hate to think of kids without toys on Christmas morning.
Darn, she’d forgotten Peter. She’d just shove him into the sack with the other toys. Pulling open the passenger door, she watched blankly as he tumbled out of the car and landed on his face. At least she guessed it was his face. Sort of hard to tell.
Amazed, she stared at him. “Gee, look what shook loose. You’re now the proud owner of three sturdy legs.” Sighing, she picked him up and set him next to her. “You’ll make someone a great bedside table, pal, but you won’t fit in the bag with those legs sticking out.”
Staring into the darkness, she hunched her shoulders and tried to stop shivering. Damn, damn, and double damn.
“I hate this. I need a vacation, Peter. Somewhere warm, peaceful, with every modern convenience at my fingertips, and no stress. And I may as well throw in a man. Yeah, a man who’ll do everything I want, never argue, and won’t ever tell me to relax and enjoy it.”
A gust of wind blew sleet into her face.
“That’s it, Peter. I want warmth, peace, conveniences, and a subservient man. How’s that sound?”
Peter must’ve thought it sounded pretty good because his amber lights flashed, and he rose to his full height, which wasn’t too spectacular.
A sudden wave of dizziness drove away all thoughts of Peter. A kaleidoscope of whirling colors made her slightly nauseated. She knew she couldn’t be freezing to death because she could still feel her toes.
Please, don’t let me pass out. She couldn’t let Mrs. Tierney down tomorrow. The ninety-year-old woman would be waiting for her monthly cut, knock-em-dead blond coloring, and the latest issue of Cosmo. Mrs. Tierney’s cheapskate nephew had stopped paying Kathy years ago, but that didn’t matter. Mrs. Tierney called Kathy her hair princess. It felt good to be someone’s princess.
Kathy blinked, trying to clear her vision. Kick her if she skipped any more lunches trying to squeeze in frantic clients.
The whirling colors had become a long tunnel with Peter’s flashing amber lights at its end. A neardeath experience?
She sank to her knees still clutching her purse, backpack, and bag of toys. If the tow truck driver discovered her cold stiff body, she hoped he’d find Peter a good home.
And as the whirling colors took her, Peter spoke.
“Hasta la vista, baby!”