Bad Liar

Chapter Five

Billie picked a song from her playlist on her phone, and the music had some serious bass. It thrummed through Quentin's body. Effortlessly, she guided them out of New York City and onto the highway. He could see she was totally in the zone. Something about this machine fits her personality. Maybe it was its power, undeniable yet subtle, just like her.

The car slowed and Billie took what looked like a black lacquered chopstick from between the seats. With one hand on the wheel, somehow she tied up her long, dark hair with it. It impressed Quentin. The woman had skills. Billie tapped a button, and the top came down, turning the car into a convertible. 

Once they hit the open road, Billie got to show him the real power behind the machine. 

"Sweet ride," Quentin said, enjoying both the drive and the driver. Billie looked at him but only held his gaze for a heartbeat before returning her attention to the road.

"You know you're nothing like I thought you would be," he confessed and saw the playful smile tug at her lips.

"Dare I ask what you thought I would be like?" she quipped.

Quentin shook his head, embarrassed that he fell prey to the rumors and hype just as she had about him. "It doesn't matter what I thought. What matters is what I think now."

Billie's one eyebrow rose. "And what do you think now?"

"That you Billie Dupree are a mystery, an amazing mystery, and a walking contradiction, and this has created a combination that's driving me crazy. I want to get to know you, Ms. Dupree. No. I must get to know you."

Billie's laugh was almost a snort of derision. "Wow, that flew right off the cuff there, huh? Impressive. I do appreciate the effort, but I must tell you I'm not built to accept flattery. You really are wasting your time."

"Yet she blushes when the parking attendant calls her beautiful."

Billie's eyes darted to look over at Quentin, he smiled at the annoyance he caught in her eyes. He liked getting under her skin, even if it was just to irritate her.

"He didn't call me beautiful, she said, 'I was looking mighty fine,' and Carlos is easy to believe because his compliment comes without an agenda."

"So, if I compliment you, I must want something from you? Is that it?" Quentin asked, enjoying getting this sneak peek into her psyche.

Billie's expression and words dripped with sarcasm when she asked, "You don't?"

Did she ever answer a question directly? Quentin wondered. He understood why both fathers didn't want Billie at the meeting. She was formidable when challenged, but she was right, he did want something. Not that his compliments were insincere, but he'd be a liar if he pretended he didn't want her. That he wasn't thinking right now how to convince her to give in to him.

Billie's phone rang. She saw it was her father, and she reached over and turned it off. Quentin noticed the shift in her mood.

"New to the whole disappointing your parents' thing? I've got plenty of pointers if you need them. I'm practically a black belt." Quentin chuckled at his own joke.

"No, thank you, got my own stripes."

"You? I highly doubt that. An M.I.T. graduate. The way your father talks about you. You're the apple of your daddy's eye. How can you possibly be a disappointment?"

"I'm not a boy," she stated simply, but that one statement held such heartache. Quentin could hear it in the hollow tone of her voice.

"Seriously?" He couldn't believe her father would hold that against her.