Page 17 of Even After Sunset

“It’s for you. You’ll need bedding to sleep on for the next few weeks,” she answers casually, ignoring the accusation I know most be creeping into my eyes now. “We can store it underneath the bench during the day.”

She unlocks the door and steps inside, lugging the bedding with her, which I’m now noticing is covered in gold cursive lettering, with the words “sweet dreams” sprawled all over.

Oh, the irony…

I hop out, slamming the door, and look up at her. She’s already stashing the comforter and pillow under the long sofa.

She calls over her shoulder: “Can you hand me the rest of the stuff?”

I don’t move. “What in the hell, Jackie?”

“You’re going to need a few basic things. You can’t just—”

“For chrissake. I didn’t ask you to buy me stuff!”

She ignores me and finishes: “… wear the same clothes for ten weeks. And you need bedding.”

And then, before I have a chance to object again, she straightens and points down at the cart. “Can you pass me those bags?”

I do pick up one of the bags, but only to rifle through its contents. I hold up one of the packages.

“Seriously?”

She bought me fuckingunderwear?

She just shrugs. “I tried to think of everything. I don’t want to have to stop again tomorrow for more stuff. ”

She reaches her hand out for the bag, but I ignore her. She still doesn’t get it.

“I’m not letting you buy me shit.”

“Well then, we’re all good,” she says, all smug grin and sparkly eyes. “Caus I didn’t buy any shit.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I did get an extra bag of toilet paper, which I guess isforshit… but definitely no actual shit.” She gives me another perky smile. “See? Crisis averted.”

She’s a real freakin’ riot.

A woman walks up to the car parked beside ours, a toddler balanced in one arm and a couple of bags in the other. She slows when she sees the shocking yellow truck, wincing almost like she finds it offensive.

You and me both, sweetheart.

“Look, mommy!” her kid yells, pointing with his chubby little finger. “Yummy!!! Yummy yummy yummy!”

I’m assuming he’s referring to the cookies painted on the camper beside the order window. Only it looks like he’s pointing at the underwear in my hand.

“Dat yummy!”

Jackie stifles a grin and I bite back a curse as I go back to sifting through the contents of the cart.

“Jesus. How much did you spend on this shit?”

The woman cranes her neck to glare at me.

“I told you already,” Jackie says calmly. “I didn’t buy any—”

“How much?” I repeat, cutting her off before she starts up with the wise-cracks again.

Jackie reaches down and keeps unloading stuff. “Seventy-two dol—”

“What thefuck, Jackie!” my palm slams against the handle of the cart.

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