Read Online Unconditionally Single by Mary B. Morrison - Free Book Online

sides and no rear windows parked a short distance ahead of me. Lowering her passenger window, the stranger tooted her horn.
    Staggering to the van, I stared at her license plate, memorizing the number as I approached the passenger window. I rested my arms on the door, leaned my head inside the van. A cool air-conditioned breeze, a friendly smile, warm round dark brown eyes accented with crow’s feet and long dark lashes greeted me.
    She appeared about thirty-five, forty maybe, depending on how well she’d taken care of herself. Approximately five foot ten inches, two hundred pounds, give or take five. Black shoulder length hair matched her nail polish. Large breasts protruded under a plain black long-sleeved T-shirt. Faded black denim jeans loosely tapered her thighs and black tennis shoes covered her feet. There was a cell phone in the cup holder closer to her, a brown paper coffee cup with a white lid in the other. The caged metal barrier behind the seats separated her from what was back there.
    “I’m not a crazy woman,” I said, observing every detail I could inside her van. Not much else to see.
    In a deep sweet raspy voice, she said, “You’re too classy to be one of them kind, suga’. But you do look worn. Hop in.” She turned off her engine. “These gas prices are killing my pockets.”
    Was she serious? Gas prices had dropped significantly.
    “I’m headed north. Off of Piedmont and Roswell. I’ve had an unbelievably rough day. Mind if I see what’s in the back of your van before I get in?”
    Her smile vanished. “Geez, sweetie. Are you an undercover cop or something? I’m the one trying to help you out here.”
    “No, I’m not a cop. Mind?”
    She leaned over, pushed open the passenger door. I glanced behind the seats. The barrier blocked my view. I braced my hands on the gray vinyl seat. Placed one foot on the mat, left the other on the ground. It bothered me that I couldn’t see back there.
    Being a former prostitute, I’d learned women who were too trusting sometimes got gang-raped because they didn’t check out the backseats and trunks of johns’ cars. At times, I hated the part of me that couldn’t let go of my past. Everyone was suspect.
    Looking at her clear glossy lips, I asked, “Don’t mean to sound pushy but can you get out and open the back doors? I can’t see back there.”
    “You want a ride or not, baby? Get in or get out. I’m trying to help you. Make up your mind. I’ve got to go,” she said, starting her engine.
    A voice whispered in my ear, “Don’t do it, Madam.” Sounded like Sunny. Imagine that. Sunny protecting me from heaven and I couldn’t protect her on earth. I shook my head, silenced the voice inside it. How long would I have to wait for another ride if I refused this one? I was tired. I had to get home. “I do need a ride. I’ll pay you a hundred dollars when we get to my house.”
    “Then you are heading my way,” she said. Her friendly smile returned.
    Against my better judgment, I closed my door.

CHAPTER 10
Honey
    E ntering I-75 South, the woman driving the van merged into traffic at fifty miles per hour. Merged over again doing sixty.
    Calmly, I said, “We need to go north. You’re driving south.” I glanced at my swollen feet, lifted my pants. My ankles were the size and color of eggplants.
    “Some of us do have to work, lovely. I’ve got to make this delivery first. Won’t take but a few minutes. I’m late,” she said, plunging her accelerator to the maximum speed limit, seventy miles an hour, swerving into the fast lane.
    I prayed the delivery wasn’t me. Deepening my tone, I said, “You’re heading in the wrong direction. Stop the car and let me out.”
    “Geez, you so-called smart women are so stupid. So you thought I was just giving you a free ride? That I’d just pick you up on the side of the road and be your complimentary chauffeur?” she asked, pushing eighty.
    Lord, is this some sort of joke? I am not laughing. Is this a