I Trust You

Dusty

"Hello?" Grace groans, her eyes on Vincent's cold face. "Mr.Maxwell, I said how did you get me out?"

Silence.

"Stupid, jerk, wiener." Grace grumbles under her breath, her mouth in a small pout and her hands crossed firmly over her chest.

"Excuse me?" Vincent says, his eyes flickering towards Grace then back to the road.

"Oh, so you hear that?" Grace shoves herself towards the door, her face against the cool window. "And you're excused."

The silence thickens as Vincent drives down the deserted street, passed the neighbourhood ice-cream parlour, men's salon and Kung-Fu Kitchen. The car slows down as it carefully turns off the main road into the dark Shelly Cascades apartment parking. Grace notices a small light, and the only light, next to her apartment.

Molinda, I wonder what she's up to?

Grace lifts herself off the seat, her hand on the door handle when a hard voice stops her.

"Victoria is with her husband." He says.

Grace nods as she slowly retracts her hand.

"I tried calling you but she picked up instead. At first she told me to buzz off before she actually let me speak." He mutters, his brows furrowed as he relaxes against the car seat. "Strange girl. Anyway, she told me what had happened, that you were in jail and some old bat, her words, had pressed charges against you. So, I told her to meet me somewhere nearby so we could discuss."

"Discuss what?"

Vincent looks up at Grace, his eyebrows raised high.

"I mean, you shouldn't be discussing me since we're not friends."

"My word, I'm not doing this right now." He moans, lifting himself off the car seat and leaning over towards the dashboard.

Grace watches as he quickly swipes off a speck of dust with his finger, then nodding before leaning back in his seat.

"I can't believe you just did that." Grace mutters, her mouth fighting off a grin. "You do realise that your entire dashboard is dusty, like really dusty. What was that small swipe for, huh? In my high school AP English class we would have described that as taking a cup out the ocean and expecting a change."

"Why are you so ill-mannered?" He asks, his grey eyes glinting in the darkness.

"Jail does that to you."

A beat of silence passes before its broken by Vincent's heavy laughter.

"What?" He silently cries, leaning over as he clutches his forehead. "That was, um, actually funny."

Grace grins a small, quiet laugh escaping her lips as she watches Vincent lean back, his mouth stretched into wide smile.

"I know and it came out so naturally. Usually it takes me a while to come up with a good zing." Grace leans back as the his laughter slowly sizzles down. "You should laugh more, it looks better than that cold face you always have on."

"I do not have a cold face." He defends, tilting his head back.

"Oh, just stop lying." Grace shakes her head, her curls falling out her loose ponytail. "So, how did you get me out?"

Vincent let's out a heavy sigh, as he slowly undoes his golden cufflinks.

"Victoria mentioned what the old lady said to you in the store and I didn't like that. At all." He pushes a lock of his hair back before folding his arms. "We can't let people get away with saying stuff like that or else, well we land up nowhere, land up moving in the same vicious cycle. So, Victoria said something about having to pick up her husband from the airport, she seemed quite uneasy about leaving you on your own but I told her I would take care of it.

"After she left, almost hitting an old lady off the street with that yellow mustang of hers, I drove off to the mall where you were arrested. And can I just say what is wrong with you people?"

"What?" Grace asks, her brows furrowed.

"I swear you have some disposition with old ladies. Instead of apologising she zapped the old woman and sped off."

"Oh," Grace grimaces, wringing her hands together as her eyes flicker towards her apartment. "She was probably in a bad mood usually she's an angel."

Lies.

"I believe you." He says, a light smirk on his face as he eyes Grace. "Anyway, I stopped at the mall, headed over to the store and spoke to Michelangelo. He owed me a favour and I managed to coax him  into showing me the security footage. I know the police had it but they would have never allowed me to even catch a second of it."

"Wait, you know the manager?"

"Did I not just say that?"

"Are you part of the Gucci Gang?"

"Gucci what?" He asks, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, don't play dumb with me." Grace says, her hand on her chin. "Even if you did him a favour you'd have to know him before you did the favour. Which means you're either related or you shop there often enough to be close with him."

"Look I helped him out with one of his girlfriends."

"Girlfriends?" Grace asks, hot, white pain shooting through her chest as her fists harshly clench together.

"The guy needs help, I know." He answers, shaking his head. A second later his eyes rake over Grace as his eyes soften. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." She grates out, forcing her fists open. "Continue."

"All right then." He coughs out, his eyes flickering out the windshield. "The moment I looked at that footage tape I knew it was over."

"Over?"

"For her. What you did is illegal but what she said," He huffs, running his hands over his face. "If she ever went to court there would be an public outcry. Your case would have been trending. 'Young Girl defends against Racist Old Woman'. With a headline like that, who would people side with? Even if you hit her with a bat people would still root for you. Racism in this country is a tense topic and there's a bunch of people who are totally against it. If that woman actually went through with that case she would have been public enemy number 1. I told her that and I'm sure I saw some new wrinkles forming."

"So, what you're saying is that the people would have been on my side despite the law being against me."

"Well, for the most part, yes, but that doesn't justify what you did to her. You're an adult, Ms.Fontanel, you can't use violence when people say a few mean words to you."

"I know but thing is I don't think I was protecting myself, I mean, I was but for me it was the shoes. I didn't want her to take my shoes." Grace sighs, leaning her head back. "I've got a serious problem when it comes to shopping. It's like all sense leaves my head and now I'm suffering for it."

Grace eyes flicker towards her apartment, her mind on the landlord's email, the one he had sent her not too long ago, asking her when she would pay her rent.

Never, maybe?

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out." Vincent's eyes flash towards the green flashing lights. "It's late I better get going."

"Yeah, sorry." Grace rushes, shaking her head and opening the door. "Thank you for toady, it means a lot."

Vincent nods his head as he starts the car.

"Look, Mr.Nieta invited us back to the hotel, some sort of thank you party ,I believe. So, don't go straight to work tomorrow."

"Okay." Grace steps out the car, the wind ruffling her hair. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Ms.Fontanel."

Grace heaves the door shut, shuddering as she watches the old car drive out the parking lot into the street with a dangerous grumbling sound.

"He better not call me when that thing stops in the middle of the road."