Hale let out a whoop as we accelerated, holding his hat so he didn’t lose it.
My navigation beeped and we exited sharply, nearly hitting another car. We slid into a gas station with a giant, grinning, pink pig on it.
“Wait. They have Pig-E’s in Europe?” Hale drawled as we parked.
“It just opened. Apparently it became a hit when the Swiss were in the South for the last world cup and loved it so much they brought one over. I discovered Pig-E’s when I was on tour in the South. They are fantastic. Those brisket sandwiches.” I did a little dance in my seat as I put the top of the car up.
They were these giant, super-clean gas stations with all sorts of food and things–and unlike anything we had in New York City.
“Pig-E’s is the best part of any road trip. I’m excited to see what they have. I hope they have honey buns.” Hale nodded excitedly.
I turned off the car and opened the door.
Fiona snuggled into Carlos. “We’re going to warm up a little.”
“Sounds good.” I got out and closed the door. Saoirse did the same.
A moment later Hale joined us, his cowboy hat back on his head. With a pleading look, he glanced at the car, then me, and held up his hand.
I tossed him the fob. “Don’t be too long?”
“Will do.” He got into the driver’s seat.
Having seen his race, I trusted him with the rental. They drove off. Saoirse was on her phone.
“Come on.” I reached for her hand.
She moved seamlessly, avoiding the gesture. Saoirse glanced backat the car as he got on the expressway. “You know what they’re going to do, don’t you?”
“Are you okay with it? She’s with you, right?” I wasn’t sure what their agreement was, though considering Saoirse had not just let me make it up to her, but had sought me out a couple of times for a good fucking, they must have something in place.
She nodded. “I’m fine with it. But it’s your car.”
I laughed. “It’s a rental. I’m sure people do worse.”
We entered the gas station, which was the same pink paradise I recalled from my trips to the South. Only everything was in German, French, Italian, and English.
I didn’t see any brisket sandwiches, but I did smell sausage. Mmmm.
A woman in a pink apron greeted us in German. I greeted her back as I took a basket and went to see what sort of snacks they might have.
“You speak German?” Saoirse gave me a surprised look.
“I do. My birth parents died when I was five and I came to live with my six moms. My bio mom and two of my moms were besties. Anyway, it was important to them that I learned about my parents’ culture in addition to theirs. So besides speaking Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian, I learned German. I learned to cook German food. I even studied one summer in Germany. Actually, that’s how I got into mixing electronic music with pop vocals the way I do. We went to a lot of parties, raves, and clubs. That summer was a soul-searching experience for me,” I told her as I looked over the chip options.
Wow. I’d expected them to have the same kind of snacks as in the South. Nope. Oooh, I’d missed those. I grabbed a pack.
“Soul-searching? I’m sure,” she laughed. “Your parents died? I’m so sorry to hear that. They were from Germany?” Her brandy scent grew a little salty with sadness.
“My parents were from the Midwest. They were vaguelyGerman. Their people probably came over in the 1800s to farm, like so many others. Still, it was something fun we could all do together. It led to some interesting experiments. I mean schnitzel tacos might sound weird, but they’re amazing.” My mouth watered at the thought. One of my brothers had perfected them.
Oooh. Maybe they had schnitzel sandwiches or at least a cheese-filled sausage on a nice soft roll with spicy mustard.
Blue eyes flashed as an adorably puzzled expression crossed her pretty face. “Schnitzel tacos?”
“Have you ever had schnitzel? It is delicious.”
Her eyebrows arched. “I know what schnitzel is, I just don’t know what a schnitzel taco is.”
