Page 3 of Road Queens
“Don’t booze shame. Or barf shame.”
He ignored her, still paging through the mag. “We did softball and bowling in my family. But in some ways, golf is even more challenging than bowling.”
“In some ways, huh?”
“Anyway. It’s hard but I like it.”
“I think that’swhyyou like it. Hey, no criticism from this quarter. I love you’re trying new things. It’s just, you don’t look like a stereotypical golfer.” Amanda leaned in, squinting. “You’re like Curly inCity Slickers: a saddlebag with eyes. And you’ve heard my mags rant, right?”
“Yeah. Not sure why you’re going into that again or what it has to do with my saddlebag eyes.”
“Because magazines are the biggest rip-off in the history of rip-offs! So expensive! Price ’em out by the page and then compare that to a paperback—you’ll be horrified.”
“Y’know you sell magazines, right?”
“It still makes me feel dirty. Hey, I’m as bad as anyone. You should see the stack of mags upstairs. They’re all packed with pics and only need about twenty minutes to read. Then you’re stuck with a stack ofshiny paper getting more outdated by the second and realize you’re stuck. ‘I paid thirty bucks for two magazines full of recipes I’ll never make.’ Scam. Scam. Scam.”
“They can’t be all that—”
“The one exception isVogue. I respect an unabashedly thick magazine that’s been around forever. Like those old-fashioned phone books, it’s a bazillion pages of gorgeous nothing.”
Before Dave could respond, the bronze frog over the door let out a series of ribbits as a customer came in. Amanda stretched up on her tiptoes and waved from behind the cash register. “Welcome to my Hole!”
The customer in question groaned. “You’ve gotta stop that.”
“Never.” Amanda grinned as Sidney, her favorite customer, hurried up to the counter after a brief pause at the “Dinosaurs didn’t read, and now they’re extinct” book display. “So you’ve finally learned to read. That’s just excellent, Sidney! How can I help you? Self-help? Cookbook? The latest celeb tell-all? An autographed copy ofGo the Fuck to Sleep?”
“No to all of—wait, do you really have an autographed copy of that? If I ever have kids, it’ll be just so I can read ’em that book.” Before Amanda could answer, Sidney cut her off. “Never mind. Have you been on social media this morning?”
“Ew. No.”
“Regular news then, you determinedly oblivious twit?”
“Again, ew.” To Dave: “I get most of my news from fortune cookies.”
He nodded. “That would explain how you failed to notice the pandemic.”
“I didn’t ‘fail to notice.’ I was just a little slow to catch on. And don’t talk to me about the pandemic. I’m sick of hearing about the—”
“A-hem.” Sidney smacked her hand, palm down, on the counter. Amanda didn’t react, since Sidney had been doing that since she was in diapers, but Dave flinched so hard he knocked over the pen cup he’dbeen moving out of Amanda’s reach. “Cassandra’s in the tank as of a couple of hours ago.”
“Weirdest phrase ever for a police station. Makes it sound like she’s drunk. Wait.” Amanda took a second to process. “Our Cassandra?”
“No, a rando stranger also named Cassandra got pinched, and I ran over here to tell you for no good reason.”
Amanda blinked as Dave cleared his throat and said, “I’ll just mosey four feet over here and look at a book I’m not going to buy in order to give you the illusion of privacy.”
“Or you could leave,” Sidney suggested, “and give us actual privacy.”
Amanda barely heard them; she was too busy gaping like a goldfish. “Cass has been arrested? For ... for what?” She cast about, physically and mentally. “Not for what happened back—I mean, she didn’t do anything, so why—”
“I don’t know for what. Like a dumbass, I thought you might have an idea.” Sidney Derecho: fern enthusiast, wicked tennis serve, poetry prodigy.
“Thatwaspretty dim of you,” Amanda observed. “I also like how you pretended to insult yourself while actually insulting me. Never change, Sid.”
“You know I hate when you call me—”
“You’re not here for news. You’re here to givemenews. Mission accomplished. Cassandra’s cooling her heels in a holding cell.” Amanda spread her hands and shrugged. “Consider me caught up.”
