Scot on the Rocks Read Online Free PDF Page A

than the party we’d just left. I immediately looked down at my French maid getup and quietly removed the little doily that was on my head.
    I was between Allie and Douglas in the back, with Franc in the front. Douglas’s left leg pressed against my right and I smiled to myself.
This is one of those perfect New York City nights when you live for the moment and don’t think about tomorrow,
I thought. I turned my head toward Douglas and caught him looking at me. We locked eyes and I began to think wicked thoughts.
    “I don’t want to go to another party!” Allie screamed to the front, interrupting my thoughts, “I want to go home!” Franc looked back at her and laughed and shut the plastic divider that separated the front of the cab from the back of the cab and told the cabbie to keep driving. The cabbie had to stay toward the middle of the road to avoid the massive potholes that were lined up like a collision course along Broadway.
    “I am getting out right now!” Allie yelled again, opening the divider as she yelled. When Franc didn’t turn around, Allie pretended to open her car door, with the cab still moving, for effect.
How very French,
I remember thinking to myself. The cabbie began to yell something in a foreign language while Franc tried to calm him down. I looked at Douglas and he rolled his eyes. I smiled a quiet smile back as he mouthed the words
drama queen
to me. I giggled a silent giggle that only Douglas could see and he put his hand on my leg. I giggled out loud.
    “I am getting out of this cab right now!” Allie screamed, and the cabbie pulled over to the right-hand side of the street to a chorus of assuring “She is not getting out!” coming from Franc. Allie, on the left side of the cab, swung the door open wide into traffic just as we stopped on the right-hand side of the street. As quickly as she opened the door, another cab came whizzing by and knocked Allie’s cab door right off its hinges.
    Everything was silent for a moment. The cabbie turned around, and upon seeing that Allie was all right, began to yell at Franc very fast in a foreign language. Franc began to yell back in French and Allie sank deep down into her cab seat. Douglas got out to referee and I stayed in the cab with Allie. I was surprised that she didn’t feel sorry for what she had done, rather, she somehow thought that it was the cab driver’s fault, or Franc’s fault, or just anyone’s fault but her own. I heard Franc outside talking, now in English, to the cabbie about what he should do and how he could fix things. When it seemed that Franc had squared things with the cabbie, Douglas opened the right-hand door of the cab, where I was sitting, and put out his hand for me to take.
    “Shall we?” he asked.
    “Is everything okay?” I asked.
    “Everything will be fine. Let’s go to that party now.”
    I agreed, but suggested that we walk instead of taking another cab. Douglas laughed and we began to walk. I told Douglas that I somehow felt like a fugitive leaving the scene of a crime or something and asked him if he thought that Franc and Allie would really stay and do right by the cabbie.
    “Allie? No. Franc? Yes,” he replied. I agreed, but told him that I still felt as if we were fugitives. He told me that he did, too.
    It was cold, so we soon began running, holding hands and laughing. We were running in the middle of the streets; it was so late at night there weren’t any cars on the tiny downtown side streets. I was scared that I would fall, but I somehow knew that Douglas would catch me if I did. We reached Varick Street, where the next party was still going strong. You could hear the pounding bass of the music coming out of the windows and see the empty cups lining its sills.
    “I don’t really feel like going to another party, do you?” Douglas asked with those bedroom eyes. It was so cold out that I could see his breath as he spoke. I shook my head no.
    In an alleyway somewhere off Varick Street,