“What?” Jet asked.
I pointed at a powder blue crushed vehicle that looked like it was once a decent jeep. “I like that color and I’m sure that car must have been awesome in its hay day.”
He grinned. “You have no idea how I feel when I come in here. Especially when I see some battered Escalades or Jaguars. Good thing is Paco knows how to salvage the vehicles so they don’t go to waste.”
“Yes, the head supervisor here.”
He pointed at a messier looking part of the junk yard. These piles had the innards of cars and looked like engine stuff to me.
“What?” I asked.
“You’d be surprised that that’s where people find some treasures. Car treasures, I mean.”
I looked at the pile again. Wrinkling my face in distaste, “I don’t think so. It looks like a pile that no one should go rummaging. Sharp and gooey things can’t have treasures in them.”
“What’s that phrase? Don’t judge a book by its cover. Trust me, I’ve found some useful car parts in that.”
He shook his head, smiling. Then he slipped an arm around my waist, looked down at me and kissed my forehead.
I was taken aback by this gesture. I’m still off and on about what I supposedly have with Jet but it’s something as little as this that makes me let go of whatever is holding me back. I exhaled shakily and secretly prayed that my heart’s erratic rhythm would stop betraying my emotions. It’s no secret by now that I liked Jet but I didn’t want him to know just how much I liked him.
We started to walk and Jet said that he was going to show me something cool.
“So there are more cool things here, yay!” I said sarcastically.
“Have faith, Cara, you might find inspiration here for your book. Maybe plot a murder scene, you know, bodies hidden in the junk yard.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s so unoriginal.”
Then he stopped abruptly. We had rounded the corner of one of the piled stashes of scrunched vehicles and I wasn’t sure what was out of the ordinary that made him halt. The path looked as rugged as the others we just passed but as I looked at his face, I realized that whatever made him stop had danger written all over it. Goosebumps crept on my hands and I held his hands tighter.
“Jet,” I whispered in fear.
He didn’t answer but put his finger on his lips to shush me. He just slanted his head a little, listening.
I also tried to listen intently and then I heard laughter from two men coming toward us.
“Oh,” I exclaimed, feeling relieved.
But he shushed me again and without a word, pulled me forcefully and started walking back quickly from where we had come.
“What’s going on? You’re scaring me,” I said, as I struggled to keep up with his pace.
He didn’t say anything and made a turn to quickly as my dress stuck on a protruding metal rod. I heard the dress rip before I could say anything but Jet just kept on going.
“Hey!” I yelled at him, struggling to remove my hands from his grip.
He stopped and turned to me with a stare that I had never seen anyone in real life muster.
I instantly stopped struggling because I was so afraid of the person that was looking at me.
“You will quietly head back to the truck with me or you can stay here and face anything that happens to you.”
That was enough for me to shut my mouth but what he said brought up a lot of questions in my head. I guess I was going to wait till we got to the truck to ask.
I nodded and ran toward the gate we had entered, fighting the urge to look back at the danger that he had insinuated.
I was panting when we got to the truck and Jet looked as though he hadn’t even walked. He was so focused on getting us out of the junk yard that when he opened the truck, he lifted me in, buckled me and ran for his own door. I watched him uneasily, not failing to see that before he got in, he looked back at the gate with a look of disdain on his face.
He started the truck and sped away. My heart beat and the sweat dripping on my face was not enough to say how fearful I was. My skin had turned that shade of absolute horror and I sat on my hands, trying to warm them.
What the heck is going on?
I waited not to say anything because I wanted Jet to say something first. He had to explain what happened back there.
As we got on the highway, I noticed him visibly relax and as his hands went for the radio, I slapped it.
He smiled, not taking his eyes from the road.
“No music, we need to talk,” I bellowed.
“We will,” he said, and turned on the music again.
I fumed, clenching my hands and trying to keep my mouth shut. I knew if I said anything I would regret it. I kept my eyes on the road, forcing myself not to look at him. I didn’t even have a clue where we were headed and I wasn’t going to ask. When he took the exit toward Downtown, then I realized that he was probably taking me back home. What a wonderful outing it had been.