Page 29 of Property of Bob

Ramona’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re about to.”

“You look tired.”

“I’m in a hospital.”

“Apparently, that makes people look worse.”

“What?”

“Something Shay said.”

“Shay talks too much.”

Ramona smiled.

I looked at her for another second. Then I asked the question again. “Why are you here?”

Her smile disappeared.

There, I knew it. Something was wrong. She rubbed her palms over her jeans. “I needed somewhere to go for a little while.”

My body might’ve been weak. My brain wasn’t. “What happened?”

“Nothing major.”

“Ramona.”

“Ash.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not.”

“You drove across the country in that piece-of-shit RV—”

“Hey.”

“—without telling Clint, showed up on Skull Island after twenty years, and you needed somewhere to go,” I continued.

She pressed her lips together. Finally, she sighed. “I had a problem at the campground where I was working.”

“What kind of problem?”

“My boss and I had a disagreement.”

“What kind of disagreement?”

“The kind where I quit.”

“Why?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re worse than Prime.”