Her heels scraped the pavement with a fierce sound, her arm pushing the entrance door open as an oblivious customer on the other side blocked it in the midst of dialing his phone. Breathless, she reached the reception desk, a determined light in her eyes as she approached.
The next customer to be served–so she thought–until another hand slapped the granite surface at almost the same instant as her own. Glancing round, she encountered a slightly familiar pair of brown eyes. The young man in the graphic tee, his dark hair mussed.
An awkward moment ensued as recognition dawned for both of them. Her rival faintly smiled, hands lifted in a surrender gesture, as he said, “Looks like you beat me.” Although she detected a note of disappointment in the polite gesture.
“Thanks,” said Val. Her smile was genuine, gratitude rushing through her. Behind them, other passengers stranded by the train were forming a restless line. She recognized the toddler’s high-pitched cry, the beep of electronic gadgets being switched on.
The desk clerk, a gangly thirty-something with a nametag that read “Jimmy”, was busy with a customer phone call. His fingers tapped over a keyboard to reserve a station wagon, then a red economy model. The moment he hung up, the phone rang again.
“Rent N Roll,” he answered in a nasal whine. “Oh, it’s you.” His shoulders hunched, his back facing them as he turned away. “Look, I told you not to call me here anymore. This is a business line, mother, and I'm supposed to be working right now–”
Mother? Val smothered a laugh over the scenario, her glance shifting sideways towards her nearest fellow customer to see if he shared the humor of this moment. His eyes were focused on a computer tablet in his hands, completely oblivious to the irritated clerk. She wondered if he was shopping online for another rental agency and being disappointed, judging by his attitude.
He punched some buttons and a tiny automated voice emerged, informing him there were four new emails. He furiously began typing a response, his brow furrowing with narrow lines.
Was he always so intense? she wondered. Even on the train, he’d worn a look of fierce concentration as if every passing second was accounted for.
“Can I help you?” the clerk’s flat voice broke into her thoughts.
“I need to rent a car for seven days,” Val said, fishing a billfold from her toga bag. “Anything will do, just something that gets me to Virginia and back.”
The clerk nodded, fingers stroking the keyboard to pull up a business log. “Mmmm," he said, " Looks like you got the last one available for today. A 2011 Mercury Marquis with 80,000 miles–”
“Wait,” the guy next to her interrupted, his fingers ceasing to type on the mini computer . “Did you just say that was the last car?”
His features were painted with disbelief as the clerk nodded.
“That–that has to be a mistake.” Shaky laughter accompanied this statement. “There’s like a hundred cars out there...” He gestured towards the window, where the modest parking lot was full of cars, although quite a few seemed to be in the process of leaving. .
The clerk gave a helpless shrug. “It’s no mistake. Most of those cars were reserved months in advance. Pretty much every rental service in the city is booked–you know, by people coming to the big convention.”
“Convention?” A small bell of recognition rang in Val's head. Could it be? No, it couldn’t. Surely this was just a coincidence…
“It’s the e-Volution software company,” the clerk said, boredly. “Some three day blowout where they’ll be unveiling the Genus IV. Which I’ve heard is pretty excellent compared to the last model with its detachable keyboard and M3-i software uplinks.”
He gave a snorting laugh that was lost on his potential customers, sans the customer in the brown blazer, who seemed to grow gloomier with this remark.
“Looks like we’re fresh out of printer paper," said the clerk, as he opened the registration form on his screen. "I’ll have to fetch some from the back." He slid off in that direction with no great amount of urgency.
Word that the last car had been rented was circulating through the people in line behind Val, with several breaking away to make other arrangements. She heard one man complaining of being put on hold, while another scoffed to his wife, “The taxi service isn’t even picking up.”
"Damn convention," said another.
Val bit her lip, feeling the luck of being one of the first few in line. Her relief was short-lived when she caught a glimpse of the disappointed customer who had yielded his spot to her. He was still attempting to be a little hopeful, she noticed, as if there was some mistake on the part of the desk clerk.
Given his distracted nature and forlorn attitude, she felt almost guilty that the event she organized had short-changed his attempts to rent a car. No doubt throwing whatever plans he had for his day.
Offering him a sympathetic smile, she quipped, “Who knew so many people were obsessed with electronics?”
This was a rather poor jab aimed at her client, whose event was the whole reason she could afford this spontaneous trip. After all, it was her effort that coordinated the caterers and designers, the sleek and modern showcase layout for the convention hall that seated five thousand and was sold out months ahead of time. The after-party she arranged for them was an exclusive affair accessible by invitation only.
“Are you going to the convention?” she added, a sudden rush of embarrassment, in case she was mistaken about his travel plans.
He shook his head. “Trust me, e-Volution’s conference is nowhere on my travel route. I’m on a business trip to Maryland and actually…” he hesitated, a moment before saying, “Listen, Miss, um–”
“Valarie,” she answered. “Valarie McCray.”
“Riley Cohen,” he told her, pulling a business card from his wallet. “Junior executive for the digital software company known as Solar Systems. Which I’m currently on assignment for.”
She squinted at the card, its print blurred around the edges. ‘Producing digital products light years ahead of the competition!’ read the somewhat cheesy slogan. A tiny image of Saturn was printed in the top right corner, ringed by stars.
“I don’t think I’ve heard of it,” she said, with a polite smile to soften the truth. “But I’m not really interested in buying any software equipment right now–”
“Hey, I’m not trying to sell you anything,” Riley assured her. “I’m trying to buy something–or rather, rent it. See, I would be really, really grateful if you would let me rent that last car.”
She blinked, not quite believing what she heard. As if reading her dismay, he plunged forward with an explanation.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” he said, a note of panic in his voice. “I really need a car today–it’s like an emergency. Because my whole job might depend on this business meeting and if you could just find it in your heart to–”
She was shaking her head, although pity for his desperation was beginning to sink deeper. Solar Systems, she suspected, was no match for e-Volution’s monopoly-type hold on the digital market. No doubt his employers were feeling pressured in the wake of its competitor’s big celebration.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, “but I can’t afford to lose any time. My friend’s wedding is just days away and there’s some…well, some reasons I need to be there as early as possible.”
Not the best explanation, but was an explanation really necessary? He was a stranger and she was currently the car's rightful renter.
“You’re going to Virginia, right ?” he asked, proving he’d been paying more attention than she thought during her exchange with the desk clerk.
"Right–" she began.
“Because I only need this car for a few hours–one day, max,” he told her. “Maybe we could work out some kind of agreement. Like I drive us to Maryland, have my meeting, seal the deal... and then the car is all yours for the trek to Virginia.”
“Share the car?” She fumbled over the words, her mind trying to work out
the implications of such a trip. Stuck with a stranger in a vehicle and then, possibly, the same hotel. No, this was a bad a idea, very bad. Unthinkable.
“Just think it over,” he urged. Those brown eyes were practically begging her. “I’m not a psycho, I swear. Or some weird guy who carries fake business cards to impress girls.”
“I didn’t think you were ,” she assured him, attempting to suppress a blush. She wasn't exactly a magnet for strangers' pick-up lines.
“If you need references, I can get them for you in about ten seconds flat,” Riley said, his finger positioned on the mini computer, as if to summon character references by magic. "Anybody–friends, relatives, my boss–"
"No, really," she said, trying to end his persistence. "It's not necessary. I just–don't give rides to strangers, you see."
He braced himself against the desk, leaning closer even as she inched away.
"Please," he said. "Really, really, please. I need this. I really need to rent this car."
"I'm sorry." Her voice emerged stiff and slightly cold. His intense focus was making her slightly fearful, as if he was a serial killer instead of a desperate customer.
"If you could just–" His voice cut off abruptly. "No, forget it. I'm sorry." He drew away from her, head down and eyes focused on the desk and the tablet computer lying there, as if retreating fully in his defeat.
It was this sudden withdrawal which increased her guilt. He gave up so completely, so thoroughly–as if hopelessness was second nature to him.
She was still processing these thoughts when the desk clerk returned with a stack of printer paper. The machine whirred to life, producing a stack of papers which he slapped on the desk in front of her. The agency’s contract packet seemed roughly the size of Shakespeare’s collected works.
“This top section concerns liability and insurance policies,” the clerk told her, flipping the pages. “And, of course, there will be an increased rental fee due to the circumstances–making it about six hundred dollars total for the seven days.”
The color vanished momentarily from her face. “Six hundred dollars,” she said. “Wow …I mean, the last time I rented a car, it was three hundred for ten days.”
She had counted on a similar rate this time around. Draining her savings and vacation funds for this possible goose chase–even in her wildest impulses, she could never see herself doing something like that. This would exhaust her cash and the credit card she designated for petty expenses.
“You won’t find a better deal anywhere else,” the clerk advised. “Not until the convention is over, anyway.”
At this point, Riley stirred. "What if you went halves with someone?" he suggested. "I mean, that would lower costs, right? To split the expenses–and maybe have them pick up the tab for now?”
From his jacket pocket, he produced a wallet, then a credit card from inside. Holding it up, meeting her eye as if waiting for the signal that she accepted his offer.
"Maryland first," he said. "One day, then it's all yours for Virginia."
She glanced between him and the clerk, whose stony expression showed no signs of budging on the price hike. No doubt the conference had driven up prices everywhere around the city, from rental cards to hotel rooms.
She needed a lucky break in this setback and the only one available was in the form of the salesman who was waiting almost breathlessly for her answer. Her gaze shifted to his face, studying it for signs that he was dangerous, crazy, lascivious. Seeing nothing except the half-hopeful expression and eager pleading of those brown eyes.
Val drew a breath and forced a decisive edge to her voice.
“We’ll take it,” she said.
CHAPTER FIVE
By nature, Val was not an impulsive person. Outside of the desperate act of writing the note to Jason, her most spontaneous experience had been in college, when she picked up a stranded motorist on a dare from her roommate. In a pleasant twist, the guy with the shaved head and tattoos turned out to be the volunteer director for an animal shelter.
In her stupidity, she had been lucky, she acknowledged. But not all stranded travelers were Good Samaritans with faulty battery cables.
Please let this scenario be just as harmless, Val pleaded, as she sat in the passenger seat to the rented Mercury Marquis, her body positioned away from Riley Cohen in the driver's seat.
Misgivings were already plaguing her. Perhaps it was because the software executive drove like the wheelman at a bank robbery, pushing the speedometer close to the eighty mark in the seventy zone.
“You really saved my life back there,” he told her, for roughly the tenth time since he signed the paperwork. “This convention has the whole city acting like crazed zombies or something. It was like risking my life just to get a cab to the train station.”
Val squirmed, uncomfortable that he was unaware of her role in this morning's madness. Why hadn’t she remembered this was the week of the biggest assignment she ever handled for ’Eventful Moments’? She couldn’t help it if people went overboard for technology.
The convention was probably responsible in part for the traffic wreck on the train tracks, she realized. Her mind pictured a caterer’s van from Dover’s Delicacies , the company she always relied on for high profile events, veering out of control and running multiple cars off the road near the Amtrak line
“It’s crazy out there,” she agreed, her eyes focused on the passing scenery with more interest than billboards for outlet malls should warrant. Tell the truth, a voice inside prodded. It‘s bound to come up eventually.
“Seriously,” her companion continued, “why take three days to explain something you can condense to thirty seconds? It’s like turning a Super Bowl ad into a movie.”
She summoned an understanding smile. “I have no idea. But I can’t exactly afford to be too critical of the convention–” she cringed slightly, “–since the company I work for…well, e-Volution hired them to organize the whole thing.”
“Really?” He glanced at her with obvious surprise. “So you’re like a–”
“An event planner,” she finished. "Actually, I pretty much organized the whole event for them."
A long period of awkward silence followed this. Her companion was obviously embarrassed; in truth, Val was equally so, although she wasn't sure why.
With a nervous smile, she tucked back a stray lock of hair. “Most of the time I’m just arranging stuff like anniversary parties or charity luncheons. This was a bigger scale and kind of unexpected.”
She had a fleeting image of the car pulling over, an angry Riley kicking her bags to the curb–or, more likely, just running from the car himself. Never mind the rental was in his name, she was fairly certain he was not a confrontational person.
Riley cleared his throat. “Good for you,” he said. “I mean that. A relationship with a multimillion dollar company is gonna be priceless for your career portfolio.”
“I guess it might be if I had one,” Val answered, detecting a slight note of sarcasm in his voice. “But I can’t imagine leaving ‘Eventful Moments’ for another job. It’s pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Which sounded kind of pathetic when she heard it out loud. She frowned, her fingers tapping the compartment on the toga bag, thinking of the note folded inside. It was equally pathetic to still be in love with your schoolyard sweetheart, she supposed.
Wait–in love? She hadn't meant to think that, had she?
“Sounds like you’re psyched for your work.” Riley flicked the turn signal as he maneuvered into the next exit lane. “Me too. That is, I’m pretty much living and breathing my job right now. Technology is in my blood, so to speak."
This wasn’t too hard to believe. His eyes looked strained in the morning light; his posture was tense as if waves of stress swam just beneath the surface.
"Big successes?" she asked.
Riley cringed. “We hit some rough patches last year,” he admitted. "First with the recall, and then the
Plutones music player. But, man, we’re getting right back on that horse and riding straight for the sunset.”
The name ‘Plutones’ struck a familiar chord with Val. “I think I had one of those music players,” she said. “One with the little planet symbol on the front? It went caput about three weeks in–right in the middle of “Stairway To Heaven.”
She spoke in a lighthearted tone, making the last part into a joke, but Riley seemed as affected as if it were a complaint lodged against him personally. She could see his pride deflate slightly, as if he were a balloon nicked by a pin.
“We, uh, had a few problems with that. If you send it back to the company, you can get it replaced for no cost.”
“Thanks.” She had tossed the player into the trash already, but she thought it was best not to mention this.
“This meeting is really important, I take it," she said. "The one that you're rushing to." Surely this was a more cheerful subject for her fellow traveler, since he apparently lived and breathed his work.
“It’s more than an opportunity. If I can get Jack Hammond–as in Hammond Travel Industries–to become our investor, then the stars could finally align for Solar Systems.”
“Then he’s sort of like a billionaire tycoon ,” she guessed. Picturing a figure with a business suit and cigar, a yacht for the occasional weekend jaunt.
Riley took a deep breath. “Hammond’s big in travel and tourism. Golf courses, bus stations, hotels. His latest purchase is a bankrupt airline that’s based in Maryland.”
So her picture wasn’t that far off, although, instead of a yacht, she now envisioned a vineyard, with a summer villa in Italy. A private jet to fly him back and forth between the continents, no doubt making full use of his new airline's runways.
“Word is, Hammond’s looking for a new electronics provider for his airport line,” said Riley. His voice dropped slightly, as if this were still a secret which might somehow get out. “Tablet PC rentals for customers, devices for employee communications and work records–it’s a gold mine for Solar Systems if I land this.”
Free for the Wedding Page 4