Page 136 of Whistle

“It’s true, baby.” Rush agreed.

“Jason!”

“At least you don’t have to parade around on stage like some appliance on QVC.”

“What’s QVC?” Rush asked.

For the love of God. “The home shopping network,” I snapped.

Landry’s nose wrinkled. “Like… on TV?”

“Bro, that’s what Amazon is for,” Rush added.

“Get in the car,” I deadpanned.

Rush pulled the keys to his Corvette from his pocket. “I’m not riding in that,” he said, glancing at my Mustang like it was some hoopty with missing hubcaps.

Note: I don’t care if your car is missing its hubcaps. It’s a joke, not a dick. Don’t take it so hard.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”

I let myself into my Mustang GT and fired up the engine. The purr was so sweet I didn’t even hear Landry climbing into the passenger seat, my attention caught by the flash of her red dress.

“Why aren’t you with Rush?” I asked.

“I want to ride with you.”

My eyes narrowed. “What’d he do?”

“Nothing.”

I glanced through the windshield as Rush backed his blue Vette out of the driveway. He saw me looking and waved.

“Seriously, Dad, everything is fine. I just wanted to ride over with you.”

“You’re sure?” I pressed.

She nodded.

“Put your seatbelt on.” I reminded her.

I was turning off our street when I felt her eyes.

“What is it, ladybug?” I asked gently, knowing there was something on her mind.

“Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye before turning back to the road. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem… different.”

The back of my neck grew hot. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, then, “Quieter.”

I laughed. “Am I usually loud?”

“You yell a lot, Dad,” she deadpanned.

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