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My nose wrinkles at an overpowering
stench of stale tobacco. The ashtray
practically overflows. “Will
you empty that, please? And you
won’t smoke with me in the car?”
I meant it as a question, sort of.
He takes it another way. Kind
of demanding, aren’t you? I don’t
have to do this at all, you know.
Still, he opens the door, dumps
the ashtray into the gutter,
replaces it. Nice. Really nice.
I should haul my butt out of
the car, back into the house
where I belong. But I don’t.
MAUREEN IS AT A HOTEL
A nice enough Best Western.
Not the Ritz, but not a dump,
either. I’d forgotten she was
part of this equation. A big part,
as it turns out, the Cadillac
being hers and all. I trail Trey
down a long hallway. “Should you
have talked this over with her?”
He doesn’t slow. No doubt.
And she can always say no.
I don’t think she will, but maybe
you should wait out here.
r /> I lean back against a gold
flocked wall, sink down it,
