That startled me. “Excuse me?”
He had that look in his eyes that told me he was up to no good. “I’m driving you to your first day.”
“Nope. Not gonna happen. I’ll take the bus, and that will be that.”
“But—”
“No,” I said. “And that’s final.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug.
“GODDAMMIT,” I muttered as Sandy drove us downtown. “I don’t even know how this happened.”
“It’s best if you just let me do what I want,” Sandy said, peering at me over his oversized sunglasses. He said they made him look like a fifties starlet. I told him they made it look like his head had shrunk. Somehow I hadn’t been murdered and buried in a shallow grave out in the desert.
“You have to know how that sounds.”
He hummed under his breath. The music blaring from the stereo was far too clublike for a Monday morning. Some diva was wailing electronically about sex and feelings (or it could have been describing horseback riding, I couldn’t be too sure), and the windows were down. It was warm already, with the promise of hot later. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the headrest.
I was nervous, but I told myself it was just a case of first-day jitters. It’d been so long since I’d had an actual job that I’d forgotten what first days could be like. But I’d worked hard to get the position at Phoenix House and wasn’t going to let my nerves get the better of me.
I opened my eyes when the car slowed, hoping we weren’t stuck in construction or a jam. Traffic in Tucson was the worst.
I was surprised to see Sandy had pulled up next to the curb in front of a small, squat building at the edge of downtown Tucson. Bright rainbow flags hung from the exterior, and a sign outside cheerfully proclaimed it as PHOENIX HOUSE, the words printed with flames coming up from each of the letters.
“How are we here already?” I demanded.
Sandy shrugged. “You were snoring. Told you that you were tired.”
“Okay. Fine. Um. I guess… I guess I should just go inside.”
He reached over and took my hand in his. His fingers were long and slender and fit against mine perfectly. “You’re going to do amazing,” he said quietly. “Changing lives and all that. I bet years from now, they’ll have a gaudy statue of you right there on the sidewalk that will be beautiful at first, but then will end up being a perch for birds to poop on.”
“I hate you so much,” I growled at him.
“No you don’t. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll walk you inside.” He let go of me and reached for his seat belt.
“No,” I said quickly, struggling to get out of the car, the seat belt pulling against my chest. “Do not do that. Absolutely do not.”
“Gonna do it,” he sang, finger pressing threateningly against the button.
I managed to make it out of the car without loss of limb or life. It was close. I slammed the door behind me and turned around to glare at him through the window.
He wasn’t fazed. He rolled the window down slowly, his smile widening. “You forgot your backpack. Your special lunch is inside. I made it with bananas and love.”
“I won’t eat it,” I said savagely. “In fact, I’m going to give it to the first homeless person I find.”
“Only you could make a threat empathetic.” He wiped a fake tear as he sniffled. “You’re growing up right before my eyes.”
I reached in and grabbed my backpack, intending on turning around and storming inside just so I wouldn’t have to listen anymore. I’d almost made it when he called my name. I glanced over my shoulder at him.
He had his phone raised. I heard a camera shutter sound as he pressed a finger against the screen. “For your first day!” he shouted maniacally as people walked by on the sidewalk, staring at us curiously. “We have to have memories! Do good work, my sweet angel!”
The bystanders hurried away.
Sandy laughed as he pulled away from the curb.
I couldn’t believe I ever felt relieved he’d come home.