Mike stopped at the PetLove store to get dry chow and look at the collars and leashes. His wife Cathy was a brunette who looked attractive in dark blues and reds, and there was a maroon leather collar with plush lining that might fit her. The collar ring could be connected with a carabiner to a leash or chain. They had tried tying her up with pantyhose and scarves, and found that Ace bandage tape worked best. Cathy was adamant that he leave no marks on her from their games. After that misadventure with the duct tape, Mike thought he'd better coax her along slowly until she got over her apprehension.
Mike put his purchases behind the front seat of his truck, and turned toward the exit ramp to Route 605. Ten car lengths ahead on the ramp sat an older sedan with no lights except flashers. It was already after five o'clock and the February drizzle would be sleet or snow by dark. Mike pulled up behind the fool in the white sedan and honked, then set his own flashers. He picked up his flashlight, a heavy three-cell, which was his emergency weapon.
The door on the old Toyota popped open and a forty-eight-year-old Barbie doll looked out. The big blonde hair had obviously been styled that afternoon, and her beige tights were tucked into Uggs which would have been appropriate on her granddaughter of twelve. What caught Mike's eyes were the fingernails. His hands were warm in his winter gloves, but Barbie was driving barehanded with bright crimson and yellow flowers painted across her fingertips. She wasn't driving at all, actually; she leaned the door open and hugged a mochaccino cup in her other hand.
"Oh, hi there, can you help me?" she squealed to Mike. "It just died as I was pulling out, and I can't get it started. It's been giving me trouble in cold weather."
