Second meeting.

EVANGELINE.

"NO, NO, NO!" I yelled out loud as I dropped my phone on the bed next to me. On a lovely Saturday like this one, on which I'd made plans to sleep in, I was met the most devasting call of my life.

So devastating that I felt bike rise in my throat immediately. It was simpler when Marcus called and explained to me an accident that he'd gotten into. It was a car, fine. How expensive could it be to the point of scaring him out of his mind?

I should have asked him the model before another call came in from a certain Mr. Isaac asking if I'd be chanced to talk about the repair process. That wasn't all, and he also mentioned the name of the car to be a Bugatti.

I took my phone again and typed hastily. "Bugatti la Voiture noire," I muttered in the most ridiculous accent I could ever come up with, and the search popped up, feeding my eyes with results I wasn't sure I wanted to see.

I scrolled through the search feeds and saw several photos of the vehicle in question alongside the wor