“I’m not late,” I said, hating my defensive tone.
“Your punctuality isn’t my issue. The suitability of our transport is my more immediate concern.” As with his literalism when the game had been delayed, I could tell he was worked up because his speech was more formal, affect more wooden, as he turned his critical gaze on the car parked in front of the garage. And, huh. I couldn’t say I’d ever seen Professor Tuttle drive. His house was located about equidistant to the downtown and the campus, and despite his age, he often walked to our gaming sessions or his class lectures.
But clearly I should have given more thought to his car preferences. Because parked there in the driveway was a boat. A gleaming, black boat of a car with tinted windows. Looked to be a Lincoln, at least twenty years old and totally at home in FBI and Mafia movies alike. It was the largest sedan I’d seen outside a classic car show, and the trunk alone could easily hold half a basketball team worth of bodies.
“Is this thing up for the trip?” I hated to agree with Alden about anything, but I didn’t want to be broken down in the desert in something that had seen better decades, possibly better centuries.
“We discussed this.” Jasper took on a long-suffering tone that pointed to an ongoing argument with Alden over the car. “Neither of you owns a car. Mine is a tiny hatchback with 200,000 miles and a transmission that I pray for weekly. The professor says this is in perfect repair. Quit acting like he should have sent you guys a CarFax report before you signed up to go.”
“Who’s knocking Black Jack?” Professor Tuttle came out of the rear of his house, crossing a small patio to join us. “This beauty was the one real luxury I allowed myself when my first book hit the bestseller lists. Julio’s always had our practical, everyday car, but for a trip, nothing beats a good, old-fashioned luxury sedan. I’ve kept it for just such an occasion.”
I couldn’t say I agreed, but as it was clear the car had sentimental value to him, I wasn’t about to go on record dissing his ride. Besides, I was too invested to back out now.
“Pretty sure I can drive it,” I said, trying to find some confidence. “My folks have a newer Suburban. If I can park that, this won’t be an issue. As long as you’re sure that it’s ready to go, let’s pack.”
“Biggest thing I’ve driven is a Prius,” Alden muttered, looking decidedly unsure of himself, which was novel enough to give me pause. I couldn’t say I’d seen him that much outside of filming the show—him outdoors and not under the store’s fluorescent lights was jarring enough, and him anything other than self-assured and opinionated almost never happened. Even when rattled and falling back on factual-yet-cutting remarks, he always stayed supremely confident.
“I can drive your shifts,” I volunteered, both to get us to move on and to finally have a comeback for his offers of loaned decks and subpar cards.
And as I’d expected, my proposal got him straightening back up to perfect posture, chin lifting. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course, you will.” Professor Tuttle clapped him on the shoulder. “Now let’s bring out the rest of my stuff before we start arranging our baggage in the trunk. There’s an art to it. Biggest things first.”
We followed him to the French doors that led to the kitchen and dining area where a neat stack of bags waited. I took most of it, leaving a few things for Jasper, who was right behind me, but I wanted to make sure Professor Tuttle didn’t have to carry anything.
“Hey, I can help too,” Alden protested on the way back to the car.
“We got it.” I set the bags down next to a backpack I recognized as Jasper’s and a massive suitcase better suited to a European expedition next to a bag for one of the high-end natural-food stores in town. Looking over at Alden, I gestured at the elephant-sized luggage. “Did you leave anything in your room?”
I meant it to come off as a tease, but from the way Alden bristled, he took it as a personal attack. “I packed thoroughly, yes. You want to be prepared, you know.”
No, actually, I didn’t know, having been entirely unprepared for everything that had happened this past year. But I’d managed to make it through, and the way I saw it, there was no sense in overpacking. Or overpreparing. Life would do what it was going to do, and the most any of us could do was to just roll with the punches and hope it didn’t suck too badly. Too many plans simply led to disappointment.
“Leave some room for spontaneity,” I said to Alden. No point getting philosophical. “And you brought food too?”