Breaking Hollywood(4)

By: Samantha Towle


“Of course I can,” he retorts. “It’s an automatic. I only need one foot to drive it.”

“Your right foot, and that’s your injured foot. I really don’t think you will be able to drive. You can’t even put weight on it. And, if you do somehow manage to drive, you could cause more damage to your foot than there already is.”

“Are you a fucking doctor now?” he bites. “Of course I can drive my goddamn car. Now, will you disappear, so I can get to the hospital?” He dismisses me with a flick of his wrist.

“Fine.” I raise my hands and step back. “I’ll leave. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, Hoppy.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Nothing.” I smile innocently. “You drive safe now.” I turn on my heel and walk back over to my car.

I hear the rev of his engine.

When I reach my car, instead of getting inside, I lean against the driver’s door and watch as he tries to drive his car, which I know he doesn’t have a hope in hell of doing.

It moves slowly at first and then jerks forward, like he went heavy on the gas. The car stops, then jerks forward again, and then stops.

“Motherfucker!” he yells, slamming his hands on the steering wheel, which sets off his horn.

I have to hold back a laugh. “You okay there, Hoppy?”

He doesn’t even look at me. He gives me the middle finger.

Asshole.

But, instead of getting annoyed, I laugh, knowing it will vex him more.

The engine loudly revs again, and then, suddenly, his car lurches forward and jumps the curb, right in the direction of a street sign.

Holy crap!

He quickly swerves off the curb and slams hard on the brakes.

His hands are curled around the steering wheel, his face taut and angry.

I open my car door, reach in, and grab my bag. Then, I lock my car up and walk over to Gabriel.

He’s still sitting there, staring angrily at his steering wheel.

“I told you—”

Laser eyes turn to me, cutting me off mid sentence. “If you fucking say I told you so, I’m calling the cops, and then I’ll have them drive me to the hospital while you sit in the back of the patrol car in handcuffs.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “So, does that mean you want me to drive you to the hospital?”

“No,” he growls.

Then, he yanks his seat belt off and jerks open his car door. I jump back just in time to avoid being hit by it.

I watch, confused, as he hops his way around his car. Then, he opens the passenger door, gets inside, and slams it shut.

“Are you driving me to the fucking hospital or not?” he hollers from inside the car.

Okay. Guess I’m driving the cantankerous superstar to the hospital.

Without a word, I climb in his car, shut the door, and drop my bag on the backseat. I adjust the seat forward, so I can reach the pedals, and then I put my seat belt on.

“I’m taking you to Presbyterian?” I check.

“Yes. My brother’s a doctor there. He’ll see to me.”

I didn’t know he had a brother, let alone that he was a doctor.

I wonder what kind of doctor he is. Do they look alike? God, I hope so.

Gabriel might be a monumental asshole, but he’s a good-looking one.

I’m not holding my breath that his brother is nice though. I thought Gabriel was a nice guy after our first meeting, and look at how wrong I was about that.

I’m just about to shift the car into drive when I see Gabriel reach into the pocket of his pants. He pulls out a small silver hip flask. He unscrews the cap and takes a drink of whatever’s in there, and I’m guessing it isn’t water.

“Should you be drinking?” I ask.

He frowns. “It helps with the pain.”

“I have some Advil in my bag,” I offer.

Ignoring me, he takes another drink from the flask.

“Fine.” I sigh. “Let’s go.” The sooner I get him to the hospital, the better.

I put the car in drive, and then I double-check and then triple-check the mirrors before pulling off.

Gabriel opens up the central console and gets out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

I didn’t know he smoked.

He rolls his window down, gets a cigarette out of the packet, puts it between his gorgeous lips, and lights it up.

Even though he looks seriously sexy and kind of badass with a cigarette, smoking is gross and really bad for your health.

The smell of the smoke filters through the car, even with his window open.

Ugh, God, it stinks.

I let out a loud, exaggerated cough and roll down my window.

“Problem, Speedy?”

“Did you know passive smoking kills thousands of Americans every year?”

“I didn’t. Did you know that irresponsible drivers kill tens of thousands of innocent Americans in road-traffic accidents every year?”

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