Page 125 of Property of Bob

Anchor looked at the cup in her hand. “You’re taking that?”

“Obviously.”

“You don’t even know if the RV has cup holders.”

I gasped. “She has cup holders.”

Pearl pointed at me. “See?”

Anchor shook his head and pushed away from the bar. “I’m surrounded by lunatics.”

“You’re coming too?” I asked.

“Something tells me I’m not going to want to miss this. Skull will be here if we need a tow or to be bailed out of jail.”

Pearl smiled wide. “Both of those outcomes could be exciting.”

Anchor grabbed her hand and pulled her under his arm. “How about neither of them happen and we manage to go for a ride without a dramatic ending?”

I looked at Bob. “How many people are we putting in my RV?”

He shrugged. “You invited the club.”

“I invited you,” I pointed out. “Shay invited herself.”

“I invited Prime,” Shay beamed.

Prime grunted. “Nobody invited me. I was taken hostage.”

“Same thing,” Shay said.

Piney held up both greasy hands. “Before everybody starts loading into this fucking thing, maybe let me explain what I fixed.”

“Is it going to explode?” I asked.

“No.”

“Are the brakes working?”

“Yes.”

“Steering?”

“Yes.”

“Then I feel like we’re good.” What more did we need?

Piney stared at me. “How the hell have you survived living on the road this long?”

“Luck and low standards.”

Bob laughed and squeezed my hand.

We headed outside with Piney leading the way. Seems like the news of my RV coming back from the dead had spread in the thirty seconds since Piney walked through the door, because Lost and Cross followed us outside too. Bob kept pace with the rest of us, and he wasn’t at all winded like he had been a week ago.

He really was getting better every day.

When we got to the parking lot, the RV was exactly where it had been since I’d rolled onto Skull Island. Still crooked. Still old. Still desperately in need of a wash.