A few feet from Jeannie, a bent and torn silver McLaren had been introduced to a lamp post and the meeting ended very badly. Tires squealed behind her and she caught sight of a black S-class Mercedes with tinted windows fishtailing up the street in the direction of the Snake Eyes. She'd barely registered the front end damage of that car when it had u-turned and sped off.
"Oh my God ..." This was no accident. She stared in horror at the crumpled wreck just feet away from her. Sirens wailed and she backed away from it, stunned, straight into Steve's arms.
He held her tight, comforting her. "Holy shit that was close. Thank God you're okay, thank God."
She sank into his embrace, but what she really wanted to do was curl up in her own bed and pull the comforter over her head. More than anything, she wanted to get far away from the strip, away from black cars with smashed-in front ends, and be where she felt safe.
"You must be pretty shaken," he said, stroking her back.
While she was sure he just wanted to comfort her, something didn't feel quite right. She needed to be alone, get her head back on straight. Maybe this was a sign of some sort from above. "Do you mind if we check out that restaurant some other time?"
He kissed her temple and said, "What do you feel like doing?"
"I'm sorry. I really need to be home right now. I don't wanna be here when the cops come. There's already enough eye-witnesses around. It all happened too fast for me ... I'd have nothing useful to say to them." Her heart pounded and she felt faint, dizzy. Maybe she should go up to his room; she might not have time to make it home before passing out or being sick.
Taking her arm, he led her to a waiting taxi. "Sure you'll be okay?"
She nodded and climbed in. The leather seat, cold on her skin, was strangely soothing. The car was a cocoon, protecting her from the noises and lights and the crowd gathering outside. "Do you mind staying and giving a statement for me? You saw the same thing I did and it's not right to say nothing to the authorities. I just––I can't right now, I'm sorry."
"Sure thing. Can I call you in a couple of hours?"
"I'd like that." She kissed his cheek. Fighting back tears she said, "Thank you," and closed the car door. "Summerlin, please," she told the driver, and rested her head on her knees. This past twenty-four hours had been way too much for her. How on Earth was she going to handle game night this Friday if she fell apart this easily? She had time to back out, but she hated letting people down. Especially people like Becks and Frank who'd been there for her when she needed them most.
Ever since losing her job - her real job in costuming, not slinging drinks in some shitty bar - she'd been unglued. That, compounded with her miscarriage just days before she planned to tell Jimmy he was going to be a daddy and then her sweet grandma dying a few weeks afterward. Life just got to be too hard sometimes and the only choice she had was to try to hang on until things got better. And yet they never seemed to.