When I reached my room, I reached straight for the black section of my wardrobe. It was my favorite color, but I didn’t wear solid black often as it made me look like a New Yorker wannabe. I pulled on a black skirt my mom had bought me in Taiwan. It was ankle-length, but very thin. I pulled on a matching black top, also bought in Taiwan. It bordered on see-through, but it was cute with its scooping neck and capped sleeves. The Taiwanese knew how to make clothing that kept you covered but also kept you cool—and they looked damn good, too. I twisted my shoulder-length hair into a bun and rimmed my ‘good’ eyes lightly with black kohl. I added a dark red lipstick that finished off the look. I pulled myself to my full height of five-feet five inches and gave myself the once-over. I grabbed a few accoutrements and stuffed them into a black bag. I declared myself done and went into the living room where Matt was watching SportsCenter.
“Damn, you look great,” Matt said admiringly, casing me up and down. “Do you have a broom to go with that outfit?”
“Very funny,” I said sourly, pursing my lips at him. I was in a foul mood at the prospect of talking to Kayla, and the last thing I needed was heckling from Matt. “I’m out of here.”
On the drive over, I plotted my plan of attack. I knew the only way to get Kayla to break was to go on the offensive. She was the type of woman who could thrust and parry all day long without tiring. I would have to jolt her out of her complacency in order to get anything useful out of her. I had a hunch that not only did she know who had taken her son, but she wasn’t all the eager to retrieve him. That wasn’t my intuition talking—just my gut. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that she wanted harm to come to Danny, but she was looking out for Number One. She had something to fear from the people who took Danny, and she had to make sure nothing happened to her while attempting to get him back.
I muttered a curse under my breath as I was nearly sideswiped by an SUV who was too fucking cool to use his side mirrors to change lanes, or, God forbid, signal. I blasted my horn as I wasn’t ruled by the inane concept of Minnesota Nice that dictated car horns were strictly for show. Although lately, that was slowly changing as more cases of road rage cropped up due to the changing demographics. The SUV driver glanced my way as I passed her, an embarrassed look on her face. She was yapping on her cell phone, of course, which was probably another reason she was driving like shit. Look, folks, it’s this simple. Most of you drive for shit when you’re doing nothing but driving. Adding a cell phone to the equation was just asking for trouble. There ought to be a law that cell phones can only be used for emergencies while driving. The only exception would be if the driver had a headset so she didn’t have to touch the phone.