Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,6

at the small grey disc in my hand.

“Okay.” I pressed the grey button and the blue lights flashed on and off. “Wow! They are really bright.” I slipped the key into the door and turned. But the second I climbed in, I was hit in the face with the stench. I choked and covered my nose. “What the hell is that?”

“It just needs to be aerated,” he said, taking a step back.

I pinched my nose. It smelled like cheese. Blue cheese. Just my luck! I turned the ignition on so I could wind the windows down and blast the aircon, but almost flew out of my seat when the car screamed to life with a loud and violent roar. “What the . . .”

“Performance exhaust,” the man shouted to me over the sound of the rumbling, popping engine.

I closed the door and wound all the windows down. “Right,” I put the car into drive, “is there anything else I should know about this car before I . . . AAAAAHHH!” I screamed as my foot touched the accelerator and the car flew forward so fast that my head was flung against the blue leather headrest.

“Uh. It’s fast. Did I forget to mention that?” The man was looking a little nervous now. “Ma’am, are you sure you can’t fly to where you’re going?”

“FLY!” I banged my hand on the steering wheel and screamed when the thing let out an ear-shattering honk of epic proportions. “No. I can’t fly there.” I was a bit riled now by this question and the noises the car was making. “If I could fly, why would I be renting the ugliest car in the world!” I had to shout to him over the noise.

The man looked at me curiously. “Okay. Sorry, it’s just that maybe, on second thoughts, you shouldn’t take this car.”

“What?” I stared at him. “Second thoughts? Why didn’t you perhaps have this second thought a few minutes ago while you were having your first thought which was to give me this car?”

“Um, sorry,” the man mumbled under his breath, looking sheepish.

“I need this car; do you understand me? I need this car because my boyfriend broke up with me via IGTV! Can you believe it? And now I need to get away. And I don’t have a car anymore. I don’t have a car because I almost died in an elevator accident four days ago and they took my car away because I said some things I should never have said because I was feeling very emotional. Have you ever had a near-death experience,” I looked down at his name badge, “Dwayne Stevenson?”

Dwayne shook his head.

“Well, it’s very unsettling. It makes you say and do all sorts of things that you come to regret pretty damn quickly, let me tell you.”

“Uh . . . okay.” Dwayne took another step back from the car—I was sure it had nothing to do with the smell this time.

“It’s true what they say, Dwayne, you shouldn’t share everything on social media. Because if you do, you might also find yourself wearing an oversized hat, sitting in a car that smells of blue cheese and planning to drive into the bloody desert! Do you know how hot it is in the desert, Dwayne? Do you know how hot and sweaty you get under a hat like this?” I pointed at my head. Maybe wearing the giant hat had been dramatic overkill, but it felt like everyone in the world was watching me. And I just wanted to disappear.

“Uh . . .” He was really backing away now. “The car is petrol and you might just want to get the windscreen cleaned, since it’s been sitting under a tree for so long, it’s . . .” He paused.

“Covered in bird shit, I can see that, Dwayne.” I looked at the white dollops of crap that were slipping down the glass. I felt a deep connection with the windscreen immediately. I, too, had been shat all over.

“They say it’s good luck,” he quickly added, and then forced a smile.

I swung around and glared at him. “Well, in Denmark they believe throwing plates against your neighbor’s house is good luck, but you wouldn’t want me to do that, would you, Dwayne?” I only knew this tidbit of info because I followed this Danish blogger who took baths in icy water every morning. Do you know how many views she gets for that? Total gimmick, if you ask me. Dwayne gave me