Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [52]
She cocked her head to the side. “He has some . . . hidden attributes.”
Flirtatious little wench. Gabe laughed. “Good for Dylan.”
“I’m sorry if he was a jerk to you,” she said.
“He was irrelevant to me.”
“He was impressed with you. I could tell.”
Gabe shrugged it off.
“You sure know a lot about guns.”
“My dad collects guns.” On the sly. The man still technically had a record. Not that any law had ever stopped any felon from owning guns. “Frankly, I’d rather he collect cars or guitars—something less lethal.”
“Is your father really a pimp?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, that’s pretty . . . weird.”
“I ain’t gonna lie. It is weird when I think about it. So I don’t think about it.” He turned to her. “What are you doing out so early?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“You go first.”
She opened her purse and showed him a baggy filled with vegetative matter.
“Ah . . . stuff any good?”
She regarded his face. “We could find out together. I live six blocks from here.”
Gabe let out a small laugh. “You have very liberal parents.”
“I have workaholic parents who have left for the day.”
“Ah . . .” He studied her face and it all came back to him. He knew the type backward and forward. In New York, there was always a party every Friday and Saturday night if you were in the right crowd. And being that he was Chris Donatti’s son, he was always in the right crowd. Even though he was a year younger because he had skipped a grade, the guys accepted him. He was labeled as the smart, talented one who knew how to keep his mouth shut when shit went down. And because he was tall and good-looking enough, the older girls also accepted him, too.
It was same old, same old. You go up to a room, take a couple of hits, and within ten minutes the girl was going down on you. But that wasn’t what he wanted now. Well, not the going down part. He would have loved a blow job, but not from this weirdo stranger, as stunning as she was. He could hear his father’s voice calling him an idiot. And maybe he was an idiot. Because it scared him sometimes, that he was so obsessed with a skinny little virgin with small boobs and a very big personality. He couldn’t shake Yasmine from his mind. He kept picturing her naked, which proved to be embarrassing because when he did it, he always got aroused.
Just thinking about her for a couple of seconds and he was already semierect. The blonde was looking at his groin. She took the discernible shape in his pants as a sign of interest. “I take it that’s a go?”
“I can’t.” Gabe threw up his hands. “I’m meeting my bandmates. We have an audition at a studio for a major record company at eight in the morning, and they’ll kill me if I’m late.”
“It’s only six-fifty.”
“It takes a while to go by bus.”
“You don’t have a car?” she asked.
“I don’t have a license,” he said. “I’m fifteen.”
She was taken aback. “Really?”
“Really.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”
She looked him up and down. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“I think I told you . . . or maybe I told Dylan. I’m homeschooled. It’s great because it gives me lots of flexibility to play with my band. And being that I don’t drive and I have to take the bus everywhere, it gives me time to do things.”
Her eyes were on his face. She said, “We could walk back to my house and I could drive you to your audition.”
“You don’t have school?”
“This is what I think of school.” She pointed her middle finger up in the air. “Besides, I already got accepted to college.”
“Where?”
“Reed . . . or should I say weed.” She grinned. “C’mon, Chris. It’ll relax you.”
She wasn’t a girl who’d take no easily. His brain was reeling on how to get out of this without pissing her off. “I’m a little amped about this audition. It’s just not the right time.”
She leaned in closer and began to massage his neck. Her touch was cold. “You sure you wouldn’t like a little good-luck toke? It’ll probably relax you.”
“Maybe, but I’m . . .” He tried to look sincere. To truly get her off his back, he probably should kiss her or something,