The Christmas Wedding by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2011-10-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

ANDIE AND SETH

“I SWEAR TO GOD, this little heap of junk has more miles on it than Apollo Eleven,” Andie said as they drove their old Chevy Cav across the Mass. Pike “from Boston to Stockbridge”—just the reverse of the old song “Sweet Baby James.”

Andie’s nickname for the car was Popcorn because of its tendency to lurch or backfire unexpectedly. Seth’s nickname for it was This Goddamn Piece of Shit.

The car lacked a proper inspection sticker, an emission sticker, and a radio (stolen years before when Popcorn was “resting” in a sketchy area of Baltimore). Since the radio and cassette player were gone, Seth had hooked up his iPod to two small speakers and taped the speakers to the genuine plastic dashboard.

He and Andie sang along with Mýa and Pras to “Ghetto Supastar”:

I’ma teach this cat

how to live in the ghetto

As they headed past Framingham they saw that a significant amount of snow was coming down. Nothing to do but crack open a warm Guinness, and keep singing.

They allowed Mya to solo a little too. Seth handed the Guinness to Andie. He clearly needed both hands on the wheel. He leaned forward and squinted hard into the heavily falling snow.

“I hate This Goddamn Piece of Shit car,” he shouted over the music. “The first thing I was going to do when I sold my book was buy us a luxurious used Honda.”

“Stay calm, sweetie,” Andie said. “Like your mother says, we’re still kids. We’ve got time to be big shots.”

“I don’t want to be a big shot,” Seth replied. “I just want to sell a book. I want a few people to take it to bed at night. I want a few ladies in North Dakota to discuss it at their book club. I just…”

At that exact moment a truck the size of a house jackknifed right in front of Popcorn.

Seth turned the steering wheel away from the monster truck, and then he found himself flipped around and facing oncoming traffic and dozens of headlights. The skid seemed endless and very fast. He did everything a driver wasn’t supposed to do. He slammed on the brakes. He turned in the opposite direction of the skid.

Andie was frozen with fear. And, of course, all she could think was We’re going to die exactly like my parents did. Exactly.

Then it happened. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. Miraculously.

Andie and Seth and This Goddamn Piece of Shit were sitting safely on the snowy shoulder of the Mass. Pike.

Shaking, they reached for each other. They were safe. They held each other, hugged for a long time.

Popcorn, on the other hand, seemed none the worse for the wear and terror. As if to signal the car’s good health, the speakers suddenly began blaring a song by the Black Eyed Peas.

“Wow. A fatal accident sure would have hurt the good vibe at your mom’s wedding,” Andie said quietly.

“Well, I certainly hope so,” said Seth. “Near fatal. Not a problem.” Then they both laughed, nervously, but there was laughter.

Seth eased the car very cautiously back onto the Mass.

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