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“Two middle names?”
“I got off lucky. Wallace has, like, four. Apparently Kenya’s labor was so bad, she said she was never doing it again, so they gave him every name they’d considered.”
“So what are they?”
“Wallace’s?” Russell took a breath.
“I meant yours.”
“Oh—Russell Jennings Henrion Sanders.” He glanced over at me. “And you are?”
“Darcy Cecilia Milligan.”
“You were named after two songs?”
“I mean, my dad says the Cecilia was after my great-aunt. But I have my suspicions.”
“If there was a Layla in there, you’d know for sure.”
I laughed. “Well—thanks for telling me. I really should have asked you yesterday, though.”
Russell frowned and looked over at me. “Why yesterday?”
“You know, because—” I suddenly realized the cliff I was heading for and stopped abruptly, staring out the window as though I was fascinated by the FOOD GAS LODGING sign up ahead.
“Because?”
“Just…” I could feel my cheeks heating up. “Didi has a rule that you should never sleep with someone unless you know their middle name.”
“Ah.” I glanced over and saw that Russell’s ears were starting to turn red.
“Not that we did—”
“We didn’t—”
“But we were, you know. Almost…” I cleared my throat and looked out the window again.
“Right. I remember.” I glanced over and saw that Russell was smiling.
“Anyway!” I said, trying to hold back a smile of my own.
It’s a good policy, Didi said magnanimously. You’re welcome.
We drove in silence for a few miles. The highway was busy, but not so many cars that we were crawling through traffic. We were coasting at around seventy—when a car in the left lane suddenly swerved in front of us, making a break for the exit. Russell slammed on his brakes, sending his phone flying down to my footwell.
“Shit—sorry,” he said, sounding shaken. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, wincing slightly. I’d just found out when your seat belt doesn’t have a shoulder strap, your waist basically gets bisected by the lap belt. So maybe there were some downsides to it.
I set the phone back on the little shelf, even though that clearly wasn’t the safest place for it. The longer I was in this car, the more it was bothering me that there weren’t any cupholders. What had people in the seventies or whatever done when they got thirsty?
I looked out the window, feeling the sun on my face. I was definitely going to have to dig my sunglasses out of my bag whenever we stopped next. Which I hoped was going to be soon; it was seeming like a long time ago that I had my scramble, and I was getting hungry.
And like I’d willed it into being, I suddenly saw it off the highway—a red-and-yellow arrow, as familiar to me as anything. I knew it was early, but I just hoped Russell would be on board. “What do you think?” I asked as I nodded toward it. “Hungry?”
Russell glanced at it, then grinned at me. “Starving,” he said. He hit the turn signal and pulled off the highway, heading for the In-N-Out Burger.
CHAPTER 18 Monday
