Chapter Six
Highway To Hell
"Shit!" Off to the side of the street on the outskirts of Milan, Italy, was a custom built Harley Davidson motorcycle with a flat tire. "Stupid street!" Hell Cat cursed for the hundredth time.
Parked in behind her was Xander in his GTO. "I told you we'd be better off in my car," he replied with total coolness as he sat patiently in his car, waiting for Cat to cool down. "Look, I'll call for a tow truck. When they come and take your bike to the shop you can ride in my car."
"I'd rather walk," came his answer as Cat anxiously lit a cigarette.
"As much as I admire this whole 'independence' thing you got going on, you're holding us up. I can see a tow truck from here! Get in the car and let's get going."
"I don't need your help, I can handle this on my own," replied Cat between puffs.
"Yeah, well, we're supposed to be working together if I remember correctly," Xander continued with as much patience as he could muster. By now he'd had all he was going to take from her. From the moment they got on the jet until this point she'd been determined to have her way, or the highway.
Giving Xander the finger, she dropped her cigarette before putting it out with her boot. Turning her back on Xander, she casually walked away.
Within moments the tow truck came and hoisted the bike off the road. Cat continued to walk up the street, her back towards Xander.
"Have it your way princess," he muttered under his breath as he put on his sunglasses and revved the engine. Squealing his tires, he threw the car into reverse, spun it around, and floored it in the opposite direction Cat was walking.
As he drove to the hotel where they were supposed to be staying, he could see dark clouds overhead and the sound of thunder could be heard off in the distance. Minutes later it began to pour. He was about to park the car and head up the steps to the shiny glass doors of the hotel when he changed his mind and took off.
* * * *
"It's pouring like a son of a bitch out here! Hop in, I'll give you a lift," came the male voice in a smooth Italian accent from within the silver Lamborghini.
Cold, wet, and sore from walking in her heavy platform boots, Cat decided it would be nice to get out of the rain, and give her feet a rest. "Who are you?" she asked, bending over to get a better look at the driver.
"Antonio Romano," he flashed her a debonair smile.
"Fuck with me in any way, and you'll be in a body bag before your foot hits the gas."
"Ooh, feisty! Lucky me! I promise I'll be a good boy," he replied with a wink.
Reluctantly Cat climbed into the car, looking forward to the warm bath and dry clothes that awaited her at the hotel.
"So, how much do you charge?" Antonio asked without taking his eyes off the road.
"Excuse me?"
"HOW-MUCH-DO-YOU-CHARGE?" Antonio repeated slowly and loudly as if speaking to someone with a mental disability.
"You thought I was a hooker?"
"No, I thought you were a school teacher on her coffee break."
"I'm getting out!" Cat threw off her seatbelt before reaching for the car door.
As if out of nowhere, Antonio pulled out a pair of fur-lined hand cuffs and cuffed her to the dashboard in front of her.
He pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road just before Cat kicked him with one of her boots. "I've had a long day," he announced, pulling out a gun and pressing it to the side of her head. "I just had the leather cleaned yesterday so I really don't want to have another mess in here. If you give me what I want, you'll still be able to meow, ok pussy cat?"
Realizing the hopelessness of the situation Cat refrained herself from fighting him, though she desperately wanted to kick him in the groin.
"Now, I'm going to continue driving to my place, and if you so much as lift your foot two inches in my direction, I'll kill you. Got that?" Cat nodded.
After what seemed like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, Antonio replied, "You know, you it's a privilege I let you into my car. You should feel even more privileged that I'm going to give you what every woman in Milan would kill to have."
"Well Stud Muffin, if every woman wants it so bad, why do you carry a gun and hand cuffs with you?"
With one swift motion Antonio smacked Cat on the side of the head with his gun, knocking her unconscious. Then he turned on his stereo and sang along with James Brown to "Papa's got a Brand New Bag."
Highway To Hell
"Shit!" Off to the side of the street on the outskirts of Milan, Italy, was a custom built Harley Davidson motorcycle with a flat tire. "Stupid street!" Hell Cat cursed for the hundredth time.
Parked in behind her was Xander in his GTO. "I told you we'd be better off in my car," he replied with total coolness as he sat patiently in his car, waiting for Cat to cool down. "Look, I'll call for a tow truck. When they come and take your bike to the shop you can ride in my car."
"I'd rather walk," came his answer as Cat anxiously lit a cigarette.
"As much as I admire this whole 'independence' thing you got going on, you're holding us up. I can see a tow truck from here! Get in the car and let's get going."
"I don't need your help, I can handle this on my own," replied Cat between puffs.
"Yeah, well, we're supposed to be working together if I remember correctly," Xander continued with as much patience as he could muster. By now he'd had all he was going to take from her. From the moment they got on the jet until this point she'd been determined to have her way, or the highway.
Giving Xander the finger, she dropped her cigarette before putting it out with her boot. Turning her back on Xander, she casually walked away.
Within moments the tow truck came and hoisted the bike off the road. Cat continued to walk up the street, her back towards Xander.
"Have it your way princess," he muttered under his breath as he put on his sunglasses and revved the engine. Squealing his tires, he threw the car into reverse, spun it around, and floored it in the opposite direction Cat was walking.
As he drove to the hotel where they were supposed to be staying, he could see dark clouds overhead and the sound of thunder could be heard off in the distance. Minutes later it began to pour. He was about to park the car and head up the steps to the shiny glass doors of the hotel when he changed his mind and took off.
* * * *
"It's pouring like a son of a bitch out here! Hop in, I'll give you a lift," came the male voice in a smooth Italian accent from within the silver Lamborghini.
Cold, wet, and sore from walking in her heavy platform boots, Cat decided it would be nice to get out of the rain, and give her feet a rest. "Who are you?" she asked, bending over to get a better look at the driver.
"Antonio Romano," he flashed her a debonair smile.
"Fuck with me in any way, and you'll be in a body bag before your foot hits the gas."
"Ooh, feisty! Lucky me! I promise I'll be a good boy," he replied with a wink.
Reluctantly Cat climbed into the car, looking forward to the warm bath and dry clothes that awaited her at the hotel.
"So, how much do you charge?" Antonio asked without taking his eyes off the road.
"Excuse me?"
"HOW-MUCH-DO-YOU-CHARGE?" Antonio repeated slowly and loudly as if speaking to someone with a mental disability.
"You thought I was a hooker?"
"No, I thought you were a school teacher on her coffee break."
"I'm getting out!" Cat threw off her seatbelt before reaching for the car door.
As if out of nowhere, Antonio pulled out a pair of fur-lined hand cuffs and cuffed her to the dashboard in front of her.
He pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road just before Cat kicked him with one of her boots. "I've had a long day," he announced, pulling out a gun and pressing it to the side of her head. "I just had the leather cleaned yesterday so I really don't want to have another mess in here. If you give me what I want, you'll still be able to meow, ok pussy cat?"
Realizing the hopelessness of the situation Cat refrained herself from fighting him, though she desperately wanted to kick him in the groin.
"Now, I'm going to continue driving to my place, and if you so much as lift your foot two inches in my direction, I'll kill you. Got that?" Cat nodded.
After what seemed like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, Antonio replied, "You know, you it's a privilege I let you into my car. You should feel even more privileged that I'm going to give you what every woman in Milan would kill to have."
"Well Stud Muffin, if every woman wants it so bad, why do you carry a gun and hand cuffs with you?"
With one swift motion Antonio smacked Cat on the side of the head with his gun, knocking her unconscious. Then he turned on his stereo and sang along with James Brown to "Papa's got a Brand New Bag."
