Page 119 of Road Queens
“And the thing is, Cassandra owning a bike again isn’t as shocking as Sidneynotdriving her minivan over here.”
“Just for that, I’m pushing Cass’s bike over. It’ll hit Amanda’s and mine, and they’ll fall over like gigantic, ungainly dominos.”
“I’ll call that bluff,” Cassandra said.
Sidney opened her mouth, then let out a groan. “Dammit. Can’t do it. Guess you’d better paint the ‘No parking except for the Bobber, the Hardtail, and the Tuck’ warning again.”
“The what, the what, and the what?” Sean asked.
“It’s biker slang,” Amanda said. “A stripped-down bike with bobbed fenders like Sidney’s is a bobber.”
“A hardtail is a bike with a frame but no rear suspension, like mine,” Cassandra continued. “And the tuck is when a rider sort of ducks down low to be aerodynamic, like Amanda does.”
“Because ‘Private parking, keep out’ was too much trouble?” Sean asked as he put an arm around Amanda’s waist. “Since I’m stickingaround, I’ll need to make a few purchases, won’t I? No offense to Sidney or her helmet.”
“Hey! Your hair never smelled better than after you wore my old helmet.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he replied, straight faced. “Becoming evenmoreappealing to Amanda.”
“Jesus Christ, the mouth on this guy.” Which was just about the most ironic observation Sidney had ever made. “You guys wanna ride?”
“I should probably keep my Hole open for more than two hours this week. Suppertime road trip? I can have steak, Sidney can have pasta, Cass can have oatmeal, and Sean can have me.”
“Lame,” Cass commented.
“Soooooo laaaaame,” Sidney agreed. “But doable. The food parts. I’ve got no comment on the fuck parts.”
“Not that lame,” Sean said, and kissed her right there in the alley, surrounded by the ghosts of her past and the promise of her future.
EPILOGUE
Six weeks later ...
“I’m so pissed Edward Gorey blew me off.”
“He didn’t blow you off, hon. He died.”
Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. “You always take his side.”
Sean smiled. “Is that what I’m doing?”
A bark from the back cut him off before he could elaborate. “Hey! Let’s keep the line under control, okay? Back up, don’t crowd the author. Yeah, I’m talking to you, sunshine. Good God, kiddo, that lollipop is bigger than your face. Jeez, no, don’tofferit to me. It’s way too shiny with your spit.”
Amanda dropped her head and groaned into her palms. “Tell me Sidney isn’t yelling at a first grader in my graphic novel section.”
Sean pushed the cup of pens out of reach. “Sidney isn’t yelling at a first grader in your graphic novel section.”
“Unfortunately, my ears work perfectly, but thanks for trying.”
“Anytime, hon.”
“I’m not yelling!” Sidney shouted. Then lower: “Ma’am, thanks for coming, and also, you’ll be purchasing every book your daughter touched with her sticky hands. So I hope you’re into European history and graphic novels and at least one cookbook.”
“She’s terrifying,” Sean commented with no small amount of admiration. “Are all book signings like this?”
“This isn’t a book signing,” Amanda reminded him. “It’s a combo prepublication date, author’s night, bake sale, date night, and drinking game, because among other things, I’m awesome at multitasking. It’s practice for when Cassandra’s book comes out next year.”
“You just wanted an excuse to talk about Gorey while eating brownies you didn’t have to pay for because you’re the hostess.”
