Dean had decided not to use the Impala to pick up Bela; the valets might ding or nick his baby, and he couldn't have that. Instead, he was in the back of a sleek black Aston-Martin, sighing and doublechecking his cufflinks for the eight hundredth time.
When the car pulled up to the curb, he sighed and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm here. Do you want me to come up or do you want to come down?"