“Like a date, except under the guise of friendship. Unless you’re busy. Or don’t want to.”
I glanced at the board of photographs. “I’d love to. This can wait.”
“Great.”
I guided Ozrik out the front door, hoping to avoid notice or a conversation with my dad. He and Lex would hopefully be too busy with the mower, and I was in avoidance mode. After nursing my hurt feelings on the drive home from Tulsa, I lost the motivation to share the truth with Dad. It was easy to make excuses and hard to take initiative.
It became obvious that I wasn’t fooling anyone on the team, but no one came out and asked, so I stayed quiet, pretending like I’d been doing my whole life.
I opened the passenger door of the car and was greeted by a sleeping cat.
Ozrik laughed. “Oh, right. We have company. I forgot. Slick missed me, gave me hell for being sick and absent, and told me she wanted to come along for the ride. Slick, move over and make room for Gale.”
As though in protest, the cat tucked herself into a tighter ball. I picked her up and slid into the car, depositing her on my lap. I didn’t think she’d stay, but she sprawled and stretched and meowed. Laughing, I petted her, and she soaked up the attention.
I immediately noticed the absent dashcam.
“Vern collected it a few days ago,” Ozrik explained. “He said something about the show giving them pockets of private time surrounding runs. Is that right?”
“Yes. Thank goodness. It’s a relief.”
“I bet.”
“Where to?” I asked as Ozrik turned around. I caught sight of my dad watching our retreat. Lex had his head in the guts of the mower.
“Are you opposed to hanging out at a shitty bar? It’s home to Elk City’s low-life alcoholic crowd and might violate a few health codes, but Chucky makes the best burgers in town.”
“Sounds… terrifying. Is this where you take all your dates?”
He chuckled. “I know the owner. Bobby’s a miserable asshole, but it’s all for show. He secretly likes me and lets me pick up the odd shift on weekends, so he’s cool. It will be quiet at this time of day, and that’s more than I can say for any other place in town.”
“Okay. I won’t get food poisoning, will I?”
“Nah. I was kidding about the health codes. Bobby follows the rules. You’ll be fine.”
Ozrik took us to the Salty Orange, a spot I never would have ventured on my own. It had a scuzzy, small-town bar vibe and was exactly as Ozrik described it. Dark, gloomy, and mostly vacant. The only other customers seemed too lost in the bottom of their cups to notice us.
Before we entered, Ozrik found a can of cat food in the trunk for Oil Slick and gave her a lecture about sneaking in and pissing off Bobby. The cat seemed too focused on the food to care about the warning.
“Hang on,” Ozrik said before he headed inside.
He tugged his cell phone from a pocket. “I have to make sure I respond to my mother at least once, or she might send the sheriff looking for me. I don’t want him interrupting our date.”
I wasn’t sure if he was kidding, but I waited while he opened his text thread. An odd expression crossed his face, and he repocketed the phone without sending a message.
“Never mind. We’re good. Let’s go.”
We found a booth and the man serving—Bobby, I presumed—brought Ozrik a drink, depositing it on a cardboard coaster andannouncing, “Coke with a lime wedge for the teetotaler,” before sizing me up. “What’ll you have?”
“Um, same.”
“Christ, you don’t drink beer either?”
“It’s barely noon.”
“Bah. Kids these days.”
“Leave him alone, Bobby. How about two burgers and fries as well. Is Chucky in the kitchen today?” Ozrik asked.
