“Go hop in my car, Pose. It’s the burgundy Buick.”
My eyes scan the parking lot and I find a familiar-looking Buick parked in the corner, in direct sight of my own vehicle.
Is that…?
Could it be…?
Mrs.Galvin’s old sedan?
“Go on now,” Duke tells me again, still holding Brian in the air as if he weighs nothing. “Just gonna have a word with Dating App Brian.”
Oh Jesus.
Slowly, I walk to my neighbor's burgundy, thirty-year-old classic and open the passenger seat door. I slide in but leave the door open.
I want to see the show and hear it too.
It’s tougher to hear than I’d hoped. Whatever Duke is saying to Brian, he’s talking low and slow. Eventually, Brian nods.
Brian walks off without looking back until suddenly he’s in a full run to the other side of the parking lot on the other side of the Wylee’s building.
I sniff the air.
Sniff again.
“What the…?”
Beside me is a white plastic bag of chicken—one large carton of broasted chicken and what appears to be a cardboard container of potato fries that’s been busted open and devoured on Mrs. Galvin’s faux leather front seat.
Eating in her vintage car? He is in so much trouble!
“What a piece of shit,” Duke says as he folds his large body behind the steering wheel, closing the door with a loud thud.
I hear:What a piece of she-yit.
“First of all…” I lose no time starting in. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Getting chicken.”
That makes me laugh. “You freaking liar. Were you here spying on me?”
“No. You said they had broasted chicken, and I was hungry, so here we are.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I fold my arms across my chest, dumping my clutch onto the seat. “You stole a car just so you could come and get chicken instead of sending me a message to grab some for you?”
“Didn’t steal it.” Duke nabs a potato fry from the container and pops the end in his mouth. “I borrowed it from Mrs. Galvin.”
Say what now?
My jaw drops open. “Mrs. Galvin let you borrow hercar?” I know I sound absolutely incredulous, but this makes no sense. She won’t even let me borrow a cup of sugar. Why would she lend a stranger her Buick? “Why would she do that?”
I saw the glares she was giving him the other day when we were outside, and he was fixing the deck.
“I told her you were out with a narcissist and may need my help. She was more than happy to help me out.”
Happy to help him out?