**Chapter Six**
**Amy**
Neither of us said a word in the car. After demanding I get in, and helping me get fired, there was no way in hell the conversation would be flowing from my side. I just stared out the passenger window, totally detached.
Keeping to the speed limit, Kincaid took me further than the restaurant where I didn’t work anymore. The radio was playing softly in the background, while the purring engine and the lights of the city lullabied me into a type of trance state. It felt like I was on some kind of drug, consisting of childhood hopelessness and acid. When the shiny Mustang finally came to a stop in front of a restaurant I never knew existed, the drug began to wear off.
A valet approached my door, but Kincaid signaled him to back off.
“If you drive with me then I open your door. It’s a safety precaution.”
It seemed like the trip hypnotized Kincaid as well, because he sounded different – more respectful, if that was even possible.