Page 94 of Spiced!

We drove back with the windows cracked and Tampa’s lights blinking through the trees. I held the frame in my lap, both hands around it, and watched the bay appear and disappear between the trees.

“Brendan.”

“Yeah?”

“Eight days is a long time to plan something without telling anyone.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“Most people would tell at least one person.”

“I told Puck,” he said.

“Puck is a ferret.”

“Puck has excellent judgment.”

I let my head fall back against the headrest. “What did Puck say?”

“He dook’d twice. I interpreted that as enthusiastic approval.”

“Of the plan or of me?”

“Both. He’s perceptive.”

“And Gerald?”

“Gerald said nothing,” Brendan said. “Which I also interpreted as approval. It certainly wasn’t dissent.”

“You make important life decisions based on the silence of a succulent.”

“Gerald has never steered me wrong.”

“That you know of.”

“That I know of,” he agreed pleasantly.

I looked out the window, at the dark water through the trees. “I would’ve told Benji.”

“I know.”

“He already has a cocktail napkin about you. He has bullets with sub-bullets, Brendan.”

“I’ve heard,” he said.

“You should be concerned.”

“I’m choosing to be flattered.”

“That’s a very evolved response,” I admitted.

“I’ve been working on it.” A pause. “Rest your eyes. Four a.m. comes early.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Your shoulder has been doing the thing for the last ten minutes.”

I turned to look at him. He was watching the road with complete serenity, as though he had not just deployed my own shoulder against me.