“The thought of a one-owner Enzo being scratched or scuffed sickens me,” he said. “My efforts to have the vehicle shipped in a satisfactory fashion have failed. I need your people to take every step possible to assure that it arrives at my port in the same condition that it leaves Los Angeles.”
I fidgeted in my seat. “I can have my technicians personally load it, secure it, and then cover it with a lambswool blanket. The containers we use are fitted with weatherproof seals. It will arrive unscathed.”
“The cost?” he asked.
“All I ask is for your return business,” I replied.
“Anna, you’re a class act.”
I fanned my face with the latest copy of Automobile. “Thank you.”
“Make the arrangements, if you will.”
“I will,” I said.
“I hate to ask, but the car isn’t out in the rain, is it?”’
“Heavens no,” I replied. “For one, it hasn’t rained in five months. Secondly, my facility’s vehicles are kept indoors at all times. Yours is in the detail shop.”
“What a relief.”
“I’ll email you photographs as we reach the milestones.”
“Thank you.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” I said.
“I look forward to seeing those emails.”
“They’ll be coming forthwith,” I said. “We’ll talk again, soon.”
An exotic dealership in Los Angeles was nothing like one in Oklahoma. $200,000 Lamborghinis were seen as high-end supercars in Oklahoma. In Los Angeles, they weren’t of interest to the city’s wealthy.
My customers wanted cars they couldn’t find elsewhere. Special colors, bespoke interiors, one-off collector cars, and special edition hyper cars were my specialty.
Instead of $200,000 a month in revenue at a high margin, I was doing $10,000,000 a month at a low margin. A good percentage of my customers were celebrities who followed me on Instagram.
“Mrs. Rourke?” Karen asked over my phone’s intercom. “I’m sorry, but I have a Miss Germanotta here to see you. The front door was unlocked.”
Regardless of the time of day, I hated to turn away anyone.
“Send her in,” I said.
I stood, tugged the wrinkles from my dress, and looked at my reflection in the glass. Whoever she was, she’d have to accept me in other than presentable condition.
A platinum blonde peeked through my office door. “Mrs. Rourke?”
She was wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, a white shawl, and cat eye sunglasses. She looked like money and had a New York accent.
“Call me Anna,” I said.
She removed her glasses.
Oh. My God.
Upon realizing who she was, my heart thrashed against my ribs. Incapable of processing what was happening, I gripped the edge of my desk to keep myself from falling.
The room began to spin. Everything went black, but only for a second.
“Are you okay?” she asked, rushing to my side.
“I—” I fanned my face with my hand. “I need some air.”
She removed her hat and fanned me with it. “How far along are you?”
“I’m scheduled to be induced next week.” I rubbed the sides of my massive stomach with my palms. “On Monday.”
She took a step back and looked me over. Her gaze fell to the floor between us. “Uhhm. Your water just broke.”
“Oh My God,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry.”
“What—” She swallowed heavily. “—What do you want me to do?”
“These two are my first,” I said. “I’m a little lost.”
“Two?” she asked.
“We’re having twins.” I waddled to the guest chair and grabbed my purse. I handed her my phone. “If you don’t mind, call ‘HUBBY.’ I’m sorry, I’m a little scatterbrained right now.”
She scrolled through my contacts and made the call. “Hi. No. She’s right here, though. No. It’s Stefani Germanotta. Remember, we met a few—yeah. Lady Gaga. No. Her water broke. Okay. I don’t know. UCLA Health, in Westwood? Sure. A dark gray G-Wagon. Okay. I don’t know. Ten minutes? We’ll see you there.”
She handed me the phone. “Here, he wants to talk to you.” She reached for my free hand. “C’mon, I’m driving you to the hospital.”
I gasped. “You’re what?!”
“He asked me if I’d drive you there.” She tugged against my hand. “By the time an ambulance gets here, it’ll be too late. We can be there in five minutes.”
I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hi,” I said. “My water broke, and I feel like I’m going to puke. I love you.”
“Keep your knees together,” he said. “I mean it. If I miss this, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Anna.”
“Knees together,” I said. “Got it.”
“I’ll see you there. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I hung up my phone and dropped it in my purse. I was ridiculously excited about giving birth, but at the moment, my only living idol was leading me to my car by the hand. It didn’t make sense. I needed a few answers.
“Can I ask why you’re here?”
“Chrissy Teigen sent me,” she replied, leading me through the lobby. “She told me you sold her and John a new AMG G-Wagon. I need a new one, so I thought I’d come by and see what you had.”
“You changed my life,” I said, waddling along at her side. “You inspired me to wait for the right man.”
“I don’t…I don’t know what to say,” she stammered. “Thank you.”
I didn’t know her, and I’d only been in her presence for a few minutes, but I could tell she was genuine. Knowing that about her was reassuring.
She opened the door and helped me into the seat. “You look…uncomfortable.”
“It feels weird,” I said, lightly touching my stomach. “There’s lots of pressure.”
She rushed to her side of the SUV and got in.
With my legs spread as wide as I could get them and my belly between my thighs, I tried to extract the seatbelt to buckle it. No matter where I reached, either my tits or my belly was in my way.
After my third failed attempt, she helped me get it fastened. My failure to complete the task on my own reminded me of the day I met Braxton, and the issues I had with the seatbelt in his car in the diner’s parking lot.
The ride to the hospital was horrific. Surprised that I made it without going into labor, I commented on her poor driving skills as she screeched to a stop at the entrance.
Braxton snatched the door open. “Are you okay?”
I was sprawled out in the seat like a beached Manatee. “I feel like a toad.”
He helped me from the car. “You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re a liar.”
He peered beyond me, toward the other side of the car. “Thank you.”
“You helped me once,” she said. “Now, I’ve helped you.”
“It’d mean the world to her if you could stay,” he said. “She idolizes you.”