Page 60 of Road Queens
“Seems fair.” Paul let out another sigh. “Some advice? Don’t get married. I know my experience isn’t typical, but ...”
“No worries” was Cassandra’s grim reply.
“None of us want to get married,” Amanda added.
“Excellent. Take me away, ladies. And thank you again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Behold, the only decent member of the Manners clan.”
Back in Prescott, jiggety jig. Amanda parked behind Sidney’s van, popped the kickstands, made sure they were locked, and waited for (sigh) Beane to (siiiiiiigh) remove his hands from her waist and hop off.
She’d been so angry that she had released the carrier strap and all but thrown Sidney’s old helmet at Beane, which he caught with his belly like it was a medicine ball from a 1950s gym. “Oooof!”
Cass and Sidney exchanged looks. “Sean, you could ride down with us,” Sidney suggested, with the air of a woman inviting a rattlesnake to hang out in her bathroom. “Pretty sure your safety might be compromised otherwise.”
“He’s riding with me,” Amanda snapped, and glared in response to Sidney’s arched eyebrows.
“It’s fine; I’d love to ride with Amanda,” Beane put in, and who fucking asked him?
“Put it on,” she said as she straddled her bike and kicked the engine over.
“Happy to respect the law.” He sniffed the helmet and probably got whiffs of Sidney’s grape-scented hair spray and not a little rage, then plopped it on his head.
“Not the law. The rule,” she corrected the former cop. “My rule. There’s only a partial helmet law in Wisconsin. Eighteen and under must wear helmets. We’re both older than that, but guess what? Put on a helmet. It’s why we keep the old ones on hand.”
“Gotcha.”
Yeah, sure. You and your “gotchas.”
“Buckle it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then he climbed on, his arms coming around her waist to hold her firmly. None of those tentative grasps first-time passengers used, or the way-too-firm, argh-I-can’t-breathe beginner’s clutch.
While buckling her own helmet, she got the intoxicating scents of aftershave, cotton, and soap-clean skin as he leaned against her, which was infuriating. She felt him settle into the pillion seat, then kicked the engine to life.
They cut through side streets to get to MN-280, then hopped on I-94 east to shoot over to US Route 61. Soon enough, cities were replaced with strip malls, which were replaced with fields of corn, the tassels already hip high.
Cornfields always reminded her of detasseling stalks for local farmers, Cass and Sidney at her side. As usual, the route smelled like sunshine, fresh grass, and ... Sean?
Dammit!
“Amanda, you copy?”
“Copy,” she replied.Gotta love smartphones and helmet mikes.“I was just thinking about you guys.”
“Naw, you were thinking about what a pain in the ass detasseling corn was. No wonder they hired mostly teenagers; adults know howmuch the work sucks. Hobbling around like you’re in your eighties isn’t as much fun when you’re sixteen.”
“I don’t think hobbling is fun for anyone at any age. And you know better, Sidney. We weren’t teenage detasslers, we were seasonal agricultural adjusters. I think that’s where your hatred of euphemisms was born: in the lush cornfields of Wisconsin beside the Kum & Go gas station.”
“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t get you on the horn to reminisce.”
“Sure about that?”
“I’m just checking in, and also, you’re not gonna kill Sean Beane, right? When we’re about to clear Cass? I get being mad at the guy—”
