RHEA
Damien does have someone take me home.
It’s a kind-looking elderly man, and to my surprise, he pulls up in a black Mercedes. Maybe all the motorbikes I’ve been on in the last twenty-four hours have finally scrambled my brain, because the sight genuinely throws me.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he opens the back door for me. I slide in, and he waits until I’m settled before smiling, pleased as anything.
“Anything for Prez’s old lady.”
I don’t even get the chance to correct him before he shuts the door gently and walks around to the driver’s seat. Once inside, he gestures to a small button near the armrest.
“You can slide the glass up if you’d like some privacy.”
Grateful, I’m just about to do it when I remember something. “I’ll need to give you directions. My place is…” I hesitate,
