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“In where?” Evelyn asks. She looks from Robbie to me and back.
“To the station,” he says. He stands up a little taller and tries to look intimidating, but no matter the uniform, or the gun he’s resting his hand on, he will always be Little Robbie Gentry when I look at him. “So, let’s go.” He motions toward the door.
“You have to be kidding,” Evelyn says.
“Wish I was,” he replies.
Evelyn walks past him toward the door. She points her finger at me. “I’m going to kill you,” she says.
“Did you hear that?” I ask Robbie. “She just threatened my life.”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Robbie replies. He winks at Evelyn. “Sorry about this, Evelyn,” he says quietly. “Protocol and all that.”
“It’s not your fault, Robbie,” she says. She glares at me. “It’s his.”
I follow them to the car. I still have no idea where my clothes are, so Robbie has me get in wearing the apron. “This is undignified,” I challenge.
Robbie grins. “It rather is,” he says.
He pushes my head down as he puts me in the car. I settle in the back seat, and Evelyn glares at me from her side. “If you so much as touch me,” she warns. She stops, and lets the words hang there in the air.
“Clifford,” I say, “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last woman on earth.”
“I hate you.” She sits there next to me, seething. I can almost feel the steam coming from her ears. “I hope they lock you up and throw away the key.”
“I’d rather be locked up in a cell for the rest of my life than I would be stuck here with you.” I grumble and adjust my apron around my thighs. When she catches me, she rolls her eyes.
“I hate you so much,” she says, as she stares out the window on her side.
I am well aware of how much she hates me. She has informed me of that very fact every time she has been in my presence for the past twenty-five years. And us having matching tattoos does nothing to change her feelings whatsoever.
