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“Yeah, right! I’m going to sit here alone?” She creeps from her side of the car, tiptoeing behind me, somehow miraculously taking the slope without falling on her ass. She can come through when it counts.
I hold a finger to my lips while we draw closer to the spot I observed. Light from the streetlamp flashes on metal again, closer than I expected. There’s nothing to do but hope she stays silent as I bridge the last few hundred feet before the back of a man’s head is clearly visible.
Raising the gun and aiming at the center of his skull, I mutter, “Hands where I can see them, fucker.”
He flinches, pauses, then slowly raises his hands with his back to me. “Why don’t you tell me what the fuck you think you know before I paint the ground with your brains?” I suggest.
The night air hangs still and heavy for a heartbeat before an almost painfully familiar voice cuts through it. “Is that any way to talk to your brother?”
Chapter Twenty-One
June
“I knew it. I knew it!” I’m so flipping excited, I even slap Adrian’s shoulder in triumph as he is starting the car.
He only grumbles. “You don’t need to beat me over it. Yes, you correctly guessed that he can’t stick to his guns. Congrats.”
If I live to be a thousand, I will never understand this man. “Aren’t you the slightest bit happy he’s here?” At the moment Theo is heading back to his own car on foot, and we’re supposed to meet up a few miles down the road. I figured we could talk openly without him being around, but then I forgot I’m with a man who treats swallowing his feelings like a sport.
“I’m glad to have him as backup.” He sounds a bit skeptical as he grumbles it out.
“Aw. Did it hurt, having to admit that?”
“We would both be happier if you would stop acting like there’s anything cute or heartwarming going on.”
“Fine. Do you want to be all closed off and whatever? Be my guest.”
“Thank you.” He clears his throat, then adds, “It’s a good thing he’s here. I’m glad. All right?”
And me? I’m practically delirious with happiness, because this means nobody will look at me and expect, like, heroics or anything. It didn’t hit me until now how nervous I had been about that. I mean, me? Holding Adrian’s life and my own in the palm of my hand? I like to think I can do just about anything I put my mind to, but that could be a little too much to ask.
Theo meets up with us as promised, waiting with his engine idling and his lights off. “This is just like something out of a spy movie,” I whisper as Adrian slows to a stop next to the car.
Theo lowers his window and Adrian does the same. “I could use something to eat,” he announces.
“Me too,” I agree as my stomach growls. I would’ve eaten more of that pizza if it had been edible.
Then it hits me. “Oh!” Both of them jump a little at my exclamation. “Could we please go to that diner that looks like you just walked into the 1950s and some of the staff dresses up like old stars?”
Theo snickers and scrubs a hand over the top of his head. “You’re consistent. I’ll give you that.”
“Can we go literally anywhere else?” Adrian asks with a groan.
“Hey. I’m not allowed to go see the Walk of Fame or do anything else I want to do, so I think this is a decent trade-off. Just one meal.” Clasping my hands, I hold them up. “Please? Pretty please?”
“You owe me one,” Adrian mutters before he and Theo coordinate on the address. I can barely stay still, I’m so excited. I’m actually getting a chance to do something touristy.
“I wonder what made him change his mind,” I muse as we drive back into the city. Every once in a while, I catch the sight of Theo’s taillights up ahead. I have to wonder what he’s thinking. What convinced him.
“Probably FOMO,” Adrian decides with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t do a lot of thinking about people and what makes them tick, do you?”
“Why would I? People are going to do whatever they want anyway,” he says with another shrug.
I wonder if that’s due to his job. I guess it’s easier to not do too much, like, putting himself in other people’s shoes. I can’t help but think that’s kind of sad, though. What must it be like, always being so disconnected?
The question still weighs heavy on my mind by the time we pull into the parking lot of probably the most perfect, kitschy-looking diner I’ve ever seen. “It’s beautiful,” I breathe, staring out the window at the glowing neon sign casting blue, green, and pink light onto the cars parked in front.
