Page 242 of Break Away
Debra met my eyes in the mirror. “He always this tense?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
We answered at the same time.
Debra laughed. “Good. Chemistry.”
Easton rubbed his forehead. “I’m being bullied by transportation.”
“You’re being humbled by fate,” Debra said. “Fate loves a couple with cheekbones.”
I looked at him. “She’s not wrong.”
“She is driving away from dinner.”
“Fate takes scenic routes.”
Five minutes later, Debra’s phone rang through the speakers. The screen on the dash flashed Tina Psychic.
Debra answered. “Talk to me.”
A woman’s voice filled the van. “Your ferret is at Greg’s again.”
Debra gasped. “Emotional support ferret or regular ferret?”
“Debra.”
“I’m with clients.”
“Greg said if you don’t get Pickle within twenty minutes, he’s letting him loose in the garage.”
Debra slammed on the blinker with alarming force. “That man has no respect for attachment theory.”
Easton turned his head very slowly.
I whispered, “Don’t you dare complain. Pickle needs her.”
Debra pulled to the curb in front of a block of little storefronts, all rain-slicked windows and neon signs. “Beautiful disasters, I’m going to have to drop you here.”
Easton stared at her. “Here?”
She pointed through the windshield. “You’ve got a bar, a taco place, a thrift shop, and a dentist. That’s a whole evening.”
I leaned toward the window.
On the corner, beneath a bent gold sign glowing through the mist, sat a narrow lounge with dark windows and a halo-shaped neon sign flickering above the door.
THE BENT HALO
Underneath, a chalkboard sign read:
TRIVIA NIGHT. TEAMS WELCOME. BAD DECISIONS REWARDED.
I turned to Easton.
He was already looking at it like it had personally insulted his folded-napkin fantasy.
