Page 44 of Finding Elodie
“Sure. Scott?”
“Yeah, El?”
Hearing even the shortened version of her real name felt good. It had been so long since she’d been Elodie, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. “Thanks.” She didn’t know what she was thanking him for. For being trustworthy. For seeming to be excited to see her. For offering to give her a day of normal instead of immediately asking her to spill all her secrets. For making things so easy.
He reached up as if he was going to touch her, then stopped himself mid-reach and dropped his hand back to his side. “You’re welcome.” Then he turned and headed into the small living area of his apartment.
Elodie waited by the entrance of the kitchen and had to smile when he came back to her. He hadn’t put on a pair of sneakers, but instead he wore flip-flops. She tried to hide her smile, but obviously wasn’t successful because he asked, “What?”
“I just…I wasn’t picturing you as a flip-flop kind of guy.”
Scott laughed along with her. “I wasn’t before I moved here. I was a boots guy all the time. I wanted to be ready for anything. But it’s hot here. And I have to wear my combat boots at work and my sneakers when I work out. It feels good to let my toes breathe. And I’ll have you know these are super-authentic Hawaiian flip-flops, and they’re comfortable as hell.”
Elodie looked at her own feet. She held one up. “These are super-authentic ABC Store flip-flops and they suck, but I still love them.”
Scott laughed. “Right, the ABC Stores are handy on the island, carrying anything and everything a tourist could want, but I’ll have to bring you to the store where I got my kicks so you can see the difference between those cheap plastic things you’re wearing and the good-quality ones.”
Elodie would have agreed, but she had to be very careful with her money. She couldn’t exactly spend like she had an unending supply of cash. Unfortunately, she never knew when she might have to pack up and flee. At the first sign that Paul had tracked her down, she’d need to leave.
“There she went,” Scott muttered. He reached for her hand and held on tightly as he pulled her toward his door. “No thinking,” he ordered. “Today’s for good food and getting to know an old friend.”
He was exaggerating their connection, but Elodie still appreciated the sentiment. Scott did feel like an old friend. Even though they’d only met a short time ago, they’d been through something intense, and that made her feel more connected to him than if they’d just met in passing.
She was somewhat embarrassed to let Scott see where she was staying, but Elodie straightened her shoulders. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. No, it didn’t have an ocean view, and it was only a room in a nice old lady’s house, but it had been exactly what she’d needed when she’d arrived.
Scott held the door as she climbed into the passenger side of an old beat-up pickup truck, then he walked around and got behind the wheel. Trying to make conversation, Elodie said, “So…your truck is…nice.”
He snorted. “She’s a piece of shit, but the engine is perfect and I have no worries that she’ll break down. I bought it from this guy that a former SEAL who lives up at the North Shore hooked me up with. The guy built the engine from scratch and she runs perfectly. And a bonus is that I don’t have to worry about anyone trying to steal her…no one in their right mind would take a second glance at this thing.”
When he started the engine, Elodie had to agree that it sounded pretty smooth. Not that she knew anything about cars or engines. She could make a mean parmesan risotto with roasted shrimp, but didn’t have the first clue about how to even change a tire. It was probably a good thing she didn’t have a vehicle right now.
“Why do guys always say their car is female?” she asked as Scott pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward her place.
“I suppose because a car is pretty important to men. They usually have their own personalities and we spend a lot of time with them. I like to pamper my car and make her run as well as she can, and thus I treat her as if she’s my wife…and now that I’m trying to explain it, it sounds ridiculous.”
Elodie lifted a brow at him. “I’d argue that referring to cars as female promotes the ideology that women are objects, things seen as property owned by men. It’s subconscious, and maybe not even something men think about, but it still perpetuates the notion and it’s detrimental in the long run.”
Scott was silent for a long moment after she’d spoken.
Elodie wrinkled her nose and mentally smacked herself in the forehead. Jeez, giving Scott a lecture wasn’t how she wanted to start out getting reacquainted with him.
“You’re right,” he said. “I definitely don’t see women as property, and I can understand how it would be harmful.”
Elodie stared at him, not sure how to respond.
“What?” he asked.
“I just…I’m not a diehard feminist, but I’ve been through my share of discrimination in my field. Many times people expect women to be sous chefs instead of in charge of a kitchen. I’ve had to fight hard to get my opinion across with male-dominated staff, and it’s annoying as hell. I didn’t mean to start a philosophical debate or anything. You can call your car whatever you want.”
“What would you name this beast?” Scott asked, not seeming put out in the least.
Elodie thought about the question for a bit, liking that he didn’t rush her or try to fill the silence with meaningless conversation.
“Ben,” she said after a couple miles had passed.
Scott burst out laughing. “Ben?”
“Yeah. Ben is the name of a guy who on the outside is nothing special. Maybe he blends into a crowd and isn’t noticed a lot. But underneath he could be a rocket scientist. There’s Benjamin Franklin, Benny Hill, Benjamin Harrison…and I had a neighbor growing up whose name was Ben. To look at him, you would think he was the biggest nerd, and maybe he was, since he was on the chess team, which is shitty of me to say because it’s a huge stereotype. Especially after I just lectured you about objectifying.
